Page 110 of Healing the Heart

Although it was an obvious attempt at a joke, it fell flat, especially when the brief twitch of his lips looked more like a grimace than a smile.

“Have a good first day back,” he stated suddenly, before striding across the parking lot to his vehicle.

The entire exchange seemed off to her. The stilted answers, his forced smile, and attempt at humor. It was like one step forward and two steps back.

As she followed his SUV out of the parking lot, Fiona found it ironic that she was the one in therapy, yet Noah seemed more deeply disturbed.

SHE GOT OFF WORK ONtime, but with traffic, she didn’t get to Brentwood until after six. Noah had been cooking each night for the past week, but maybe she could convince him to order in since they’d both worked all day. When she let herself intothe condo, she immediately tripped over something on the floor next to the door. Lurching forward, she narrowly avoided a face-first collision with the hardwood floor by catching herself on the couch.

When she righted herself and glanced back to see what it was, she sucked in a breath. A large duffel bag and an even larger suitcase sat between the door and the console table. Dread rose within her, along with a wave of nausea.

Noah’s footsteps echoed in the hall. When they stopped, she stated the obvious. “You’re packed.”

“We need to talk, Fiona. Come have a seat.”

Were there four words in the English language that prophesied the end of a relationship more thanwe need to talk? But they didn’t really have a relationship. Neither of them had made any promises or exchanged words of love and forever, and, with neither a contract nor a collar, they hadn’t moved forward as dom and sub like most committed couples in the BDSM world.

“You’re leaving,” she said, without budging from the spot where she’d nearly fallen. If she tried to move, nearly would become a sure thing.

“SVI called again,” he explained. “They had a surgeon cancel at the last minute with a family emergency. Rather than postpone surgeries, they called out looking for a replacement. Since I was available—”

“Where?” she interrupted.

“Africa, for at least a month.”

For longer and much farther away than Central America. And at a greater distance from her. Masking the ache in her chest, she said vaguely, “I’m sure the need is great there.”

“It is. This will be my fourth trip.” He paused for a moment then repeated, “Come sit.”

“No, thank you.” She moved in the opposite direction, as if separation would stop the inevitable words she knew in her gut would follow.

“You can stay here until you find a new place.”

Of course, why would she stay if he wasn’t here? They weren’t a couple; she was a job that ended a week ago.

She moved to the table, busying herself by emptying her pockets of a short pencil and a crumpled piece of notebook paper on which she’d jotted patient notes, and laying her purse and keys on the table next to his.

“Fiona, I’d rather not talk to your back.”

Too bad. Why should she make this easy for him?

“I’ll call my apartment manager and see if he has another unit to rent.”

“No. It’s not safe there. The break-in proved as much.”

She picked up her keys again, and, with a calm she didn’t feel, removed his door key from the ring. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go get my things now.”

With her head down, she hurried toward the hall, hoping to escape the excruciating conversation, but he intercepted her.

“You knew you were the first since Claire. I said I’d try but made no promises to do more than that,” he said, a rasp to his voice as if this was hard for him. He should be in her shoes.

She pulled her arm free and started walking again, desperate to get away from him before she started crying.

“I don’t have more to give you, Fiona,” he said, following her.

“I know, which makes me the fool,” she whispered on a hitching breath. “I was warned about you the very first day. That’s why I refused to be matched with you.” Suddenly, she whirled, not caring if he saw how shattered she was. She needed to ask just one thing. “Tell me something. Is being alone, with a revolving door of submissives, better than trying again? I can’t understand the pain of losing your family, but can you trulysay you wouldn’t do it again? You had five years with Claire and two with Leah. If given the chance to do it over again, to cherish every precious second with them, wouldn’t you, even if the outcome was the same?”

“You’re right. You can’t understand the pain of my loss, and I hope to hell you never do.”

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