Page 224 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

“At home?”

“Megyn doesn’t really go out much.”

I recall that from what you told us during that lunch.

Like she had heard my thoughts, Maggie said, “I’m so sorry that all this is happening. If I’d kept my promise, the two of you would be getting along well right now. It’s my fault you’re in a bad spot with Megyn right now.”

“The other night, Megyn made it clear to me that she thought I should have come to her and asked her, saved my questions for her.” I got up, started pacing, myself. “I know that this is my fault and my fault only. I refuse to let you take any of the blame.”

“I guess youarethe one who let the secret slip.”

I jolted. She was only teasing me, but it was the truth and the truth hurt me. “I feel like I’ve ruined my only chance with her.”

“Oh, you haven’t.” Maggie gave a sad little laugh. “She’s way too forgiving. You should go talk to her.”

“Will she be at home?”

“I’m pretty sure. She usually drives right by my house on the way to work. Unless she deliberately took a different route to avoid me, she’s at home. And she wouldn’t take a different route, because that wastes gas.”

God. She had to worry about her expenses to the point where driving a block out of her way was too much. I should have been giving her a reprieve from those small fears, not exacerbating them.

“I’ll drive by, then.”

“Good luck, Carter.”

“I am going to need it. Thanks.”

I hung up and went out to my car, wasting no time even in telling anyone where I was going or when I would be back.

Brian will cover for me.

I drove up to Megyn’s little house and parked in her driveway, next to her car. I got out, noticing as I did that she had set out her garbage can. Not unusual, except she lived alone and shouldn’t have had so much trash. The bin was positively brimming, the lid pushed up and dangling on the edge of a cardboard box.

Going through her trash was beneath even me.

I knocked on her front door.

No answer.

I knocked again, louder than before, in case she hadn’t heard me.

Still nothing, not even a minute after.

My throat ached. I leaned my forehead against the door and spoke. “Megyn, it’s Carter. Please answer the door. I want to talk to you.”

The door opened out from underneath me. I staggered, almost falling right into Megyn. I caught myself on the recessed porch wall, panting, little lurching shocks still pulsing through my legs.

Megyn looked as if she had been crying, smudges of mascara covering her cheeks.

“Are you…” I righted myself. It wasn’t makeup on her face, I realized, but dirt, finger-swipes of it where she must have rubbed.

Her caramel hair was pulled back in a hasty bun, strands spilling out all around her ears. A bit of fuzz stuck to her bangs.

Her sweatpants were equally filthy, covered in dust and grime and fuzz. She smelled, strangely, like lemons.

“Are you okay?” I managed.

“With you? No.”

---