Page 30 of Remember (Symbols of Love 2)

“I had just come back from New York. I had been feeling like a total ass because of our last conversation, and I was coming to apologize.” I twist my lips in a wry smile.

She doesn’t smile back.

“Okay. But, you just showed up at my house. Why didn’t you call me? I don’t understand your aversion to doing things the normal way.”

Her eyes roam my face. She doesn’t sound angry, just genuinely confused. I want to be honest, but I’m trying to pace myself.

“I didn’t think you would take a call from me. And I wanted to talk face-to-face. What I did, how I treated you, what I said to you, was wrong. I don’t have an excuse. I had been walking around for years with ideas and hopes and then in November they were completely obliterated. It felt like you disappearing all over again. But this time, I knew where you were. You were someone’s wife. You were someone’s mother, and you had been for a long time. I was angry and acted like an unmitigated asshole.”

That confession sounds pathetic to my own ears, but it is the sincerest truth I can offer right now.

Milly exhales loudly and looks away. Her shoulder hunch and she wraps her arms around her waist. When she looks back at me her eyes are angry; her voice is low and slow when she speaks, as if she’s trying to control the incredulity that coats her next question.

“Are you telling me you haven’t had a relationship with anyone because you were waiting for me?”

I respond, determined to be honest even as it exposes my hypocrisy. “I forced myself to move on. I was in college, working, then in business school, and then working my way up the ladder at the firm and I’ve never really slowed down long enough to give myself time to think about relationships. But my ex, who was my fiancée for a few months, she was part of the same world I work in. And—”

“I don’t need details. I really don’t,” she says sharply, her golden eyes sliding over me and shutting me up.

“I’m sorry, Mil. I’m fucking nervous,” I say self-consciously and run my hands through my hair. I’ve never been able to hide from Milly. I’ve never wanted to. I don’t want to start now. I missed the freedom that comes from being completely honest. Even when I know Milly isn't happy with me, I also know I can trust her with the truth.

“I’m nervous, too, Dean. So nervous. I don’t know what to do with any of this. I don’t know what to do with us,” she says quietly and looks down.

“I don’t either. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m here with you. Looking at you. You’re close enough I can smell you. I never thought I’d have that again.”

“Dean . . .” Her voice is laced with caution and sadness.

“I’m not saying I have you, Milly, but I won’t lie and say I don’t want you,” I persist.

I take her hand gently into my own and put my thumb over hers to still the nervous motion of her fingers. She doesn’t pull her hand away, and I take this as my cue to continue.

“Cristal got your email. She sent it to me, and I told her I’d take care of it.” She tenses.

“I can’t take the job. You never would have given me the time of day if you hadn’t been so hell-bent on your stupid plot for revenge.” Her voice is full of exasperation and very firm. Shit.

“Okay, maybe,” I start and her eyebrows shoot to the top of her forehead as she gawks at me.

“Fine, you’re right. No maybe,” I concede, but I'm not chagrined. “But I only told Cristal to interview you. I didn’t ask her to hire you. I really just wanted to see you again. To ask you questions that have been burning me alive for months—years. I knew you were married, I didn’t feel like I could just show up at your door and have the kind of conversation I wanted to have with you. So, I did something stupid.

“But this doesn’t mean you aren’t qualified. Please, take the job. I promise not to interfere, and I promise Cristal won’t cut you any slack. She has worked for me since the beginning, and she's as invested in this expansion as I am.”

“I don’t know,” she says, but I can sense she wants to say yes, so I push.

“I won’t be involved at all. If you’re worried about that, I promise,” I say, and I mean it. I’ll give her a wide berth if it’s what she needs.

She leans back on the couch, exposing her neck and I stifle a groan. That beautiful café au lait column of skin is begging for my kiss. She takes a deep breath, and I know she's thinking. So, I don’t say another word. I’ve already pushed too hard. I just need to let her make up her mind.

She sits up after a minute and without looking at me directly, which is so unlike her says, “I don’t know. I just need to think. Please don’t think I'm not grateful to you for being here when I was sick. I don’t know how I would have managed if you hadn’t come by. I can never say thank you enough.” She's playing with her thumb again.

“I feel a ‘but’ coming,” I prompt, trying to keep the disappointment from creeping into my voice.

“But, after what just happened in the bathroom, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” She pulls her hand away and lowers her lashes.

Fuck this.

“Milly, you walked in on me in the shower and you stayed. I was thinking about you when you walked in. You looked like you wanted to join me, so I extended the offer.”

I grab her hand again. This time I turn it palm up and caress the pads of her fingers.

---