Page 46 of The Promise Of You

Squinting, I make out Moose’s goofy head hanging out of Clover’s car window, like he’s played the best joke on me. Then my eyes slide to the driver’s side. The light is bad, but I can sense more than see her closed-off face, the set line of her mouth.

I set my soda down and walk the few steps that separate me from her car, aiming for the passenger seat. How do I even begin to apologize? To explain what was going on in my fucked-up head?

“Where d’you find him?” is all I manage to say as I release my dog.

“On my porch.” Her eyes barely slide to me before locking onto the emptiness in front of her. She puts the car in reverse, waiting for me to shut the door.

I hold it firmly open in my fist, my other hand against the roof of the car, my head leaning against my arm as I take her in. The outline of her profile. Her lush hair cascading down to her shoulders and her back. The seatbelt pressing between her breasts and across her hips, where my arms and my hands and my face were two weeks ago.

The bitter curve of her smile.

“Clover,” I whisper.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.” She bats tears away furiously and releases her foot from the brake, the car backing up, taking me with it.

She hits the brake again and turns a deadly gaze to me. “Shut the door,” she snaps.

No, no, I won’t shut the door. She’s hurting, and I did this, and I need to fix this.

“Shut. The. Door.”

I slide in the passenger seat and shut the door.

She recoils against her side window, disgust, actual disgust, painted all over her face. Her hand creeps to the door handle, but her gaze stays locked on mine. She’s giving me a chance. At least that’s what I want to believe.

“I want to apologize about the other day. I didn’t mean to—”

“Please leave.”

“I don’t want to leave, Clover. I want to make this right.”

“Is this always about what you want? You only sleep with women once. You don’t want to exchange names and numbers. You only want your rent. And stop calling me Clover!”

She stops there. I wait for the final blow. What will she have to say about how I told her to leave my pub? The way I spoke to her.

Nothing comes.

“So?” she prompts me, crossing her arms, one knee folded on the seat so she can face me.

“I… it was… I mean… Is this about Boston?” How about what happened at the pub?

“What do you mean,” she hisses.

“I—I wanted to apologize for what I said to you, the other day. You know.”

“Right.”

“So?”

“So what,” she bites.

“I’m apologizing.”

She narrows her eyes on me and scoffs. “You mean, you wait until you run into me, force yourself into my car, and just say the words ‘I’m apologizing,’ and expect everything to be fine? I got news for you. Forgiveness takes a little work.”

“Right,” I mumble. Heck if I know what kind of work she’s talking about. But she’s right. What was I expecting?

I step out of the car and shut her door just as light spills out the pub’s back door, and Shane comes out. “There you are.” His gaze turns to Clover. “Oh good! You came. Haley will be happy. I mean, everyone’ll be happy, but she was just talking about you.” His gaze slides to me.

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