Page 2 of Without Regret

He raked a hand through his short hair, cursing under his breath. “I’m sorry, Jeremy, and you…”

“Ms. Brown.” Because giving him my first name seemed too personal.

As if he sensed the boundary, his lips twitched.

“Please, call me Trevor. And I do apologize to both you and Jeremy for my sister’s manners. Not to excuse her behavior, but she normally isn’t so rude. She found out a couple days ago that her fiancé cheated on her with her best friend. It has her—well, let’s just say out of sorts and out of character.”

Not that I had a sibling, but if I did, I’d shoot him for spilling personal details of the sort Trevor had just told me. But, damn. Those details would have to hit my weak spot: women dealing with the heartache caused by a cheating man.

Jeremy spoke up. “I can have one of the female trainers go into the locker room and check on her?”

Trevor shook his head. “No, no. I suppose I’ll wait her out. Unless Ms. Brown might be kind enough to go in and come out with an update for me.”

The nerve. “I’m not apologizing.”

This time he grinned, and it would have been panty melting if, you know, I found his type appealing.

“No, ma’am, you shouldn’t. If anything, I thank you for stepping in. But I thought perhaps you could tell me if she’s bawling her head off or merely taking a moment. Might give me an indication if I have a while to wait.”

I did have to go into the locker room anyhow to get my gym bag and sweatshirt. Bollocks. “Fine. I’ll give you an update.”

Not because I felt guilty. She’d deserved the little talk down I’d given her. Wasn’t as though I could’ve known she’d been betrayed or could have felt sympathetic that she’d not only lost her fiancé, but also her best friend. That bloody sucked.

Upon entering the locker room, I followed the sounds of sniffles to the last stall in the row in the bathroom. I’d given up years ago calling it the loo since most Americans didn’t have a clue what it meant.

What was her name again? Oh, right. “Avery, your brother is outside at the desk waiting for you.”

“Did you, uh, tell him about what I did?”

“Yes, but—”

A wracked sob permeated the air, causing me to wince.

“He did tell us you had some, uh, mitigating circumstances.”

“That’s so humiliating. And you don’t need to apologize. I deserved what you said.”

“I’m not apologizing. But it sounds like you’ve had a shitty last couple of days and weren’t acting yourself.” For all I knew, she was a bitch all the time.

She came out of the stall, mascara smudged, big innocent eyes now red from crying. “I wasn’t. God, my momma would roll over in her grave if she knew how I was talking to the front desk clerk. It was rude, and I’ll apologize.”

I gave her a small nod. “Brilliant. You do that.”

Intending to grab my things and get home to take a shower and get on with the rest of my Sunday, I was unprepared when she stuck out her hand.

“Can we start over? My name is Avery. Actually, my real name is Elizabeth, but my brother always called me by my middle name when we were kids, and it turned out I preferred it.”

Why? Why would I care about this mundane shit? Ah, right. Because rolling my eyes would put me on the level of bitch she had been. “Hello, not-Elizabeth-but-Avery. Lovely to meet you.” I took her hand and shook it slightly.

“But what’s your name?”

I smiled tightly. “It’s Emma.”

“Obviously, you’re not from here. I mean this is Texas, and you’re British.”

Thanks for pointing that out. I sighed, thinking she was probably in her early twenties. Which begged the question: why get married so young? None of my business. “You’re right. I’m not from here.” Nor did I wish to stay here in Texas. But that was a serious conversation with my boss I’d been avoiding. “Your brother is waiting on you. Wanted me to check to ensure you were okay, and now that I did, well, I’ll be leaving.”

“But wait. At least let me buy you a drink or something while I’m in town, so I can thank you properly.”

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