Page 22 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

He sighed and slipped his card into the reader like a good sport.

Lulu started bagging his items.

“Do I have permission to speak, or do I need to submit a written request?” Colin asked.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, baby boy.” Lulu grinned, passing him his receipt and a pen. “Ask Truly.”

Colin signed the receipt with a swooping flourish. “Truly?”

This entire interaction had been... not entirely awful. But it didn’t magically erase the fact that Colin McCrory had hurt her feelings. That wasn’t something she could just laugh off or pretend away.

“Color me surprised you’re waiting for my answer. Instead of, you know, running roughshod all over me the way you did during the podcast.”

Lulu cleared her throat. “You know what? I’ll be in the back. Inventorying ball gags and blindfolds. It was a pleasure meeting you, Colin.”

Colin nodded, but waited to speak until Lulu had wandered out of earshot. “Running roughshod over you how, exactly?”

“You’re kidding.”

A furrow appeared between his brows. “I’m not. You told me you weren’t sure whether I was truly sorry, so I’m trying again. But in order to apologize sincerely, I need to know exactly what it is I’m apologizing for.”

Jesus. She’d expected him to just—just say he was sorry so he could get it over with before moving on to hounding her about recording another episode. She hadn’t expected an actual attempt at contrition.

“That’s... big of you,” she conceded, crossing her arms like a shield because she hadn’t accounted for the vulnerability this would require of her. “Fine. You interrupted me.”

Colin nodded slowly, as if he were filing her words away. Actually listening. Actively listening. “Okay. And?”

He expected her to keep going? Air all her grievances? Fine, she could do that. “You... you trivialized my”—feelings—“point of view. We might have had differing opinions, but that didn’t make my opinion any less valid than yours.” Even if he had turned out to be right. “And it absolutely didn’t excuse you calling me—sorry, my viewpoint—reductive. That was rude. And shitty. And out of line.”

And a dozen other adjectives she could rattle off if she felt like being redundant for the sake of making her point. And she didn’t. If Colin hadn’t gotten the gist by now, there was no hope for him.

“Are you finished?”

“For now.”

His lips twitched. “Okay.” He took a deep, bracing breath in through his nose, broad shoulders rising and falling. “You’re right—I did cut you off and for that I apologize. Not only is interrupting rude, but it demonstrates a lack of respect. My actions were antithetical to my feelings because I do respect you. I got caught up in the moment and my passion got the better of me, but that doesn’t excuse my poor behavior. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but I do promise to try harder in the future.” Colin grabbed a feather tickler off the counter, smile going lopsided as he whacked it against his palm. “Just smack me the next time I interrupt you.”

“That’s for tickling, not flogging.” She snatched it away from him with a laugh. “And it hardly counts if you like it.”

For a moment, Colin just stared at her, smile disconcertingly soft. Being the subject of his undivided attention made her stomach twist and her toes curl and uncurl inside her sandals. “You have a nice laugh.”

Her stomach went into free fall. “That—that doesn’t sound like an apology.”

Colin ducked his head. “Apologies, right. I—shit.” He ran his hand over the top of his head, messing up his hair. “Okay, yeah, I could’ve disagreed with you without belittling your stance, and for that I’m sorry. It was a dick move on my part, trivializing your viewpoint.” There he went again, looking up at her through his lashes. Colin was taller than her but when he did that it made her feel like she was towering over him. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

And just like that, what lingered of her ire was gone, the hollow in her chest where her anger had resided filled with a burning need to meet Colin’s sincerity with her own. “To be fair, the topic is—was?—sort of a sensitive one for me. It doesn’t excuse what I said about your career clouding your judgment or the fact that I lashed out at you, but I hope it explains it.”

Colin’s gaze swept across her face like he was trying to put together a puzzle with only half the pieces. “Was?”

Was what? “Sorry?”

“You said was.” Colin reached out, plucking the tickler from her clenched fist. She’d honestly forgotten she was still holding on to it. “The topic was sensitive?”

“You, uh, caught that, did you?” She wished she was still holding that silly tickler, if only for something to do with her hands. “My fiancé—ex-fiancé—and I were on a break.”

The tickler hit the floor with a whisper of a thud, landing feather-side down before falling onto its side. Colin bent at the waist, snatching it off the ground. When he rose, his cheeks were pinker than they’d been before. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Truly snorted and rolled her eyes. “It was his idea. The break, not the breakup. That part was all me. See, Justin, he’s in a band and they’re on tour. He told me he didn’t have the time to devote to our relationship, but that it was temporary and that it wasn’t because he wanted to see anyone else. Only, the morning of the podcast, I stopped by his place and caught him... well, he wasn’t on tour yet and he wasn’t alone, if you catch my drift.”

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