Page 92 of The Candlemaker

His jaw fired again. “This isn’t business, Frankie.Wewere never business.”

I whipped around, causing him to almost run into me.“Sothat’s why you disappeared in the middle of the night? Hours after my sister matched Mr. Fairfax’s offer?” My brow raised so high it was a miracle I didn’t pull a muscle.

He swore under his breath, eyes flashing like he hadn’t expected me to know about that.Of course not. If it hadn’t been for the baby, Lou probably never would’ve told me.

“If you’d let me explain?—”

“I don’t want you to explain, Chandler. Explaining is the kind of thing you do the morning after. Or a day later. Or even over a phone call or text after disappearing on someone—” I stopped myself and shuddered. “Explaining isn’t something you get to do after three months of silence.”

He banded his arms over his chest, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull me to him. To hold me tight and force me to listen to…whatever kind of confession he had.

“I’m sorry, Frankie.” His broken apology rasped from his lips like embers to a fire, sparking and smoldering and begging for my forgiveness to blow them back to life.

And, goddammit, the troublemaker in me wanted to give it.

“I want you to leave right now,” I declared, tacking on the barb at the end. “I know you’re familiar with the concept.”

He grimaced but didn’t make a move to comply. And me…stupid, irrational parts of me were too busy savoring the sight of him to continue to press the demand.

I couldn’t believe he was here—couldn’t believe he’d come back. He had to know I’d be angry. That this would be the reception he’d get. And still he came. I lifted my chin and swallowed down the bout of weakness that almost asked for an explanation.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Chandler relented. At least those days spent together had taught him one thing; I was formidable. “But I’m not leaving town. Not until we talk.”

“Then I hope you’re prepared to stay for a very long time, Mr. Collins,” I warned, thinking that being stranded in this small town, away from his city and his big business, was the worst punishment I could inflict.

He stepped close to me so fast there was no chance for me to avoid him. Even if I did, I risked getting too close to the pumpkin spice scent in the back, and as angry as I was, vomiting all over him wasn’t part of the punishment I wanted to extend or part of the conversation I wanted to have.

I sucked in a breath as his heat enveloped me. His scent invaded every receptor in my brain, bringing me back to that night in his arms. That night I thought everything had changed for me. For us.

“I’m prepared to stay forever, Frankie, if you’ll let me.” His words were the perfect brand of promise that made my resolve start to melt.

Bullshit, my racing heart chided.Bullshit sweet words. Bullshit promises. Bullshit torture for a broken heart.

“Please go.” My voice cracked.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I didn’t have it in me to protest. Not when it took every ounce of my strength to stop myself from calling out and begging him to stay.

If it was only me, I’d risk my heart for answers. For that explanation. But like my mother, I was going to protect my baby from a man who wasn’t worthy, even if that man was the father.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chandler

I bentover the sink and splashed water on my face, hoping it would wash some of the raggedness from my expression.

I’d fucked everything up. I knew that. I knew I was returning to scorched earth—whatever had started to grow between us was charred by how I’d left. But I was here to make it right.To take the risk.

I’d expected Frankie’s anger. Her barbed words and firm resistance. And I’d gotten them that first day. But after…I hadn’t expected her avoidance. Her silence. Her utter lack of curiosity. I’d banked on Frankie’s eagerness for answers. The bold lengths she went to outsmart and be on top of every situation was the first thing I’d learned about her that morning at the Maine Squeeze. I’d counted on her to at least want to know why I’d up and left, even if she still wanted to punish me for it.

But she didn’t. She ran from the conversation like it was a loaded gun, and I couldn’t fucking understand why.

I grabbed my phone and tapped on Tom’s name.

“Hello?” he answered after two rings.

“How is she?”

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