Page 12 of Mending Our Chance

“No,” she interrupted me. “Never that. I wanted to be like the other girls. Then I had to go catching feelings for you, and I just didn’t know how else to make you stay.” Her voice faltered, but she kept going. “I got burned, Marcus. And what’s more, I might have loved you. I might have felt this strong pull physically, but you kept saying you couldn’t.” Her voice made a choking sound. “You had other commitments. I wanted to be one of them, but I wasn’t. Then, you left.”

“I didn’t want to leave.” I brushed my fingers over her cheek. Something flickered in her eyes, like she was waiting for me to say something else. But how could I tell her that I had loved her so much that I had to let her go—how a country bumpkin like me wasn’t good enough for her bright mind? I knew that if I could give her the love and be kind of man she deserved, I had to earn it. Hell, I still wasn’t that guy but I sure as shit was on my way to becoming someone she deserved. “What do you propose? How do we move forward?”

“I can’t keep pretending that I hate you when I don’t. But these scars—although hidden—are real. And I just can’t let the past go.”

“Can I do penance?” She was squirming away from me, but I caged her in with an arm on each side of her body, still cradling the damned pasta. “Can we become friends?”

“I can be civil.” Felicity’s eyes lit up with intention, as if I had just offered her the solution to something that had been driving her crazy. “I can be friendly. Maybe we can even be friends. Hell, we used to get along so well…” her voice trailed off.

As the memories from the past swirled in my mind, I jumped on the chance she was offering me. “I’ll take what you give me—”

“It can’t be romance.” She cut me off with a firm jerk of her chin. The words rushed out of her mouth, emphasized by her gesticulating hands. “I can’t put myself out there again, because although I’ve grown out of my childish ideas about sex and marriage, I believe that romance and relationship go hand in hand and I won’t be made to feel bad for holding myself to some kind of standard. I won’t do a fling again without some promise of commitment.”

“Relax.” I wanted to sooth her feathers which were so easily ruffled when she anticipated a fight. “I promise not to touch you without your express permission.” Then, I leaned forward, hovering just close enough that my breath would tickle her skin and my voice grew husky, “But I also promise you this: No matter how long it takes, I’m going to make you mine again. I’m going to fix what I broke all those years ago.”

Her breath caught in her throat. That little gasp was like music to my ears. Good, I still have some ability to make you responsive. It was a start.

I changed the topic. “Stay and eat with me.”

It was an impulsive offer. I was certain she would refuse me, so I added that I would like her to review the stock market data, plus some other statistics sheets I had been working on. “Think of this as a business meeting,” I cajoled.

The refusal was on her lips. I could see it. So I laid down my final card. “I have that portfolio of new ideas. You can look at them for me, weed through what we should tackle next. It would be good to make a plan for the future and let the present go where it will.”

“No, that’s not a good idea,” she stammered, shaking her head. “I’m giving you a second chance to be back in my life, but we have to be open and honest. So I’m being honest when I tell you that after today, after the way things have played out, things are too volatile between us. It was a full day. So, I’m not ready to trust us alone in a room together yet.”

“Just wait then, Felicity.” I dashed back into the apartment where I dropped the casserole on the counter top and grabbed a file of documents. Returning to her, I thrust them into her hands as I skidded to a halt in the doorway. “Look at these. Tell me these aren’t worth discussing over some homemade pasta?”

There was silence. Her eyes were analyzing each document, weighing its worth and merits. Finally there was the faintest of whispers. “Marcus, you did it. This is the key to your success. These products will—wow! Look at all this analytical data you compiled…” her voice trailed off. Handing back the files, she looked into my eyes. “I’m glad I have the chance to help you realize these products.” She held up her hand. “But I won’t come inside. I want to give your company the best of me, and to do that, I need to keep the personal feelings away as much as possible until we sort out what exactly those will look like.”

With that, she turned and left, and this time, I let her. Resting my head against the door frame, my mind called after her, Admission is the first step to recovery, Felicity. We are going to get through this. I’m going to win you back.

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