Page 72 of Hearts on the Table
Understanding and guilt washed over her face. She leaned closer, wrapping her hand around mine. Bold move, considering she’d practically leaped down an elevator shaft last time I tried to touch her. I opened my fingers to clasp hers.
“Sam, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in all this, I didn’t stop to think how hard this must be on you, too. Obviously. God, I’m the worst. Are you alright?”
“I only had to give one or two quotes. You’re the one doing the legwork.”
“I am sure it’s been hard on you, too. Especially if you’ve been accosted in the street as much as I have.” I felt her peering up at me, but couldn’t bring myself to look back. Now that shewas in front of me, the hurt and confusion I’d been grappling with all week morphed into unshakable irritation. She had just left me high and dry for days, and now she wanted to come back like nothing had happened?
Her thumb stroked my knuckles. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Is it just the publicity stuff? Are you mad I’m interviewing at Mercy?”
“No, that’s not the problem.” I cleared my throat, finally meeting her eyes. The way she looked at me reminded me of that first morning in the parking lot at R3. Aware. Actually seeing me, instead of just looking. Maybe Blake was right, and I needed to be more open with her. I owed her my honesty.
“I wish we’d had some time to debrief when all this went down. You flew out of that meeting and pretty much ordered me not to talk to you.” I cracked a smile, aiming for a joke. Her fingers froze on my forearm. “I thought we were on the same page, but now I’m not sure where we stand. I mean, I haven’t heard from you since Sunday.”
She removed her hand altogether, staring down at the table in front of her.
An uncharacteristic urge to fill the silence welled. “I know you have a lot more on your plate with this than I do—”
“I told you I was bad at this.” She blinked up at me, eyes liquid. “I’m the worst, Jesus. You’re right, I just…leftyou and acted like a complete moron. I wasn’t…I’m only used to thinking about myself. It’s inexcusable. Sam, I’m sorry.” She sniffed.
“Do not cry, Honey, please.” I didn’t know if I could take it if she did. Her pain amplified mine. Made me feel even worse. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I’m a self-centered idiot.” She swiped her hand across her forehead, her eyes looking more watery by the second. “I didn’t even think to ask about you in all this. I…I didn’t think aboutyou.”
There was something about that statement that threw me back into uncomfortable oatmeal memories, but she looked so remorseful—beautiful and remorseful—that I reached over to cover her hand with mine. I paused, hovering over her fingers. “I’d like to touch you. Is that alright? Here?”
The question sent a single tear down her cheek. She swiped it away quickly, swallowing. “That you even have to ask…”
“You’re in control here, Lainey. You always have been. You told me you were worried someone might see us together in public.”
Her face tensed like she was tasting something bitter. “In the interview today, I told them we were friends. So hopefully…no one will think anything if they see us together.”
Her hands were cold, despite the warm day outside. “So, you were thinking about me, after all.”
“Only…only in the future sense. Like how I can just get this behind us so that we can go back to…”
“Dating,” I supplied for her when she faltered. “I think we’re past the trial period.”
She snorted. “I guess. If you still even want me.”
Oh, Sweetheart. Don’t you see?“I do.”
“Even though I ruined our amazing weekend and yelled at you in an elevator and haven’t spoken to you for a week? Crap, I’m theworst.” The last bit was so quiet, as if she was whispering it to herself, before straightening up. “I can do better, Sam. I promise. Being in a relationship has to be like riding a bike, right?”
“You are a very quick study.” My shoulders relaxed a few degrees at her hopeful expression.
“I am. I’m sorry. I just—between the interviews and my patients and my mom and nowthis. I’m not…used to having to think about other people. Which sounds horrible when I say it out loud. Especially to you.”
“Why especially to me?” I wanted to hold her. Wrap my arms around her, kiss her hair, and wipe that wrecked, self-conscious pout off her face. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in days.
“You care about everyone. All the time. I must seem like a monster.”
“I don’t think you’re a monster.”
“I’ll do better,” she repeated, clenching her fingers in mine like we were shaking on it. “I promise. I’m sorry.”
“If you apologize one more time, you’re buying the next round.”
She jumped to her feet. “I can do that! I can get the next!”
