Page 117 of A Ticking Time Boss

“You walked here all the way from your place?”

“I had a lot of thinking to do.”

Hope is a fragile thing in my chest, dancing about to the sound of his words. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, too,” I say.

We don’t speak until we reach the restaurant. Maybe neither of us want to dive into it until we’re sitting down, or maybe it’s nice to delay it. Prolong the time spent in each other’s company.

I’ve missed just being near him.

We’re given a table near the front.

“How was the vow renewal?” I ask. “That was this weekend, right?”

He nods. “Got back this morning. It was nice.”

“Nice?”

“I had trouble concentrating,” he admits. A longer finger smooths over the edge of the menu he’s not reading. “Audrey, I…”

The waitress cuts us off. We order the same as last time. A full pizza, even though I’m not hungry, my stomach filled with nerves and hope.

“I’ve missed you,” he says quietly. The gold in his eyes is molten, locked on mine. “So much. Watching you walk out of my office was the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” I whisper.

He gives a single nod. “I regret a lot of things, but I’m the most sorry for making you think it was easy to hear. For thinking I didn’t care.”

“You were so cold,” I say. “It seemed like you agreed with what I was saying. That… breaking up would be easier.”

“Maybe I did think that,” he says. “But not in the way you think. Audrey, for so long, I have… damn.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “It hurt to hear you say that you figured it would be easier to just end it.”

Oh. “I didn’t realize.”

“I didn’t let on,” he says. “That’s what I’ve done for years. Not being honest about when something’s painful. When someone leaves.”

I realize it, then. The connection. It’s deeply internalized for him… and I’d left. Not in the same way, of course. But it had triggered the same feelings.

“I should have told you to stay,” he says. “Told you that we’d figure it out. But most of all, I should have asked you to forgive me.”

“For not telling me sooner?”

“Yes. God, yes. I should have told you the same day I found out, when he ambushed me, when we met for coffee. Christ, I would have been a mess about it. But I should have fallen apart in front of you instead of hiding it from you.”

“I can handle the ugly,” I say. “That’s a relationship.”

“I’m realizing that.” Carter reaches across the table and grips my hand in his, so tight I can feel the sharp edges of his knuckles. “I love you, kid.”

Everything slows down. The spinning of the Earth, my breathing. “Sorry?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I was terrified of losing you.”

I swallow thickly, my brain moving through syrup. He loves me. “I noticed,” I say. “Not telling me about the plan B for the Globe, about your father’s connection with mine, the insistence I have a lock on my door…”

“I hate the the idea that one day you’ll disappear, and not have meant anything you said. Or that I can’t protect you from someone who means to hurt you.” He shakes his head, short, rough movements. “I’m sure someone could psychoanalyze the hell out of that.”

I give him a teasing smile. “The Globe has a therapist column, you know.”

He chuckles. “God, do I love you. And I wish I had made a hundred different decisions. I should have told you about my father. I should have trusted you with that information, instead of withholding it. I’m sorry I’m related to him. If I could change that too, believe me, I would.”

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