Her hand hovered over the gems, fingers twitching. Then she gritted her teeth and took them out. She still had the velvet boxes for them tucked in the top drawer of her dresser. She pulled them out, one box in blue, one in gray, and carefully placed the pieces inside. She might be angry and upset, but there was no reason to take it out on the jewelry. Then she slipped the boxes into her purse, double checking to make sure they wouldn’t bounce around on her trip to the office, all the while ignoring the wailing voice in the back of her head. The one that wanted to know if she was sure, if she really wanted to go through with this, if she’d given it enough thought.
She was and she had.
“Ms. Ford.” Bailey greeted her from behind the reception desk when she breezed into the office. “Are you feeling better?”
Since Mal hadn’t wanted to tell anyone why she was out, she’d simply lied and said she was ill. She supposed heartbreak was a type of illness. She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m fine, Bailey. Thank you for asking. Is the boardroom ready for my meeting?” She needed to focus on something else, anything else.
“Yes. But please let me know if you need anything.”
“That will be fine, Bailey. Thank you.” Mal wasn’t usually so abrupt with the staff, but she just wasn’t up for small talk today. She still had some time before the meeting, which allowed her a moment to go into her office and take a few more of those necessary deep breaths. She also needed a few minutes to visit the washroom and touch up her lipstick, brush her hair and pretend that not only did she look okay, she felt okay.
When she returned to her desk, she pulled up some files on her computer, reviewing the agenda for the meeting, but she jumped when Bailey buzzed her to let her know the first meeting guest had arrived. And her heart didn’t leave her throat, even when she saw it wasn’t Travis. Really, it just would have required too much luck for Travis to arrive first so she could hand him the jewelry in private.
No matter. Mal would just request that he stay an extra minute and do it after the meeting. The timing wasn’t important. All that mattered was that she return the pieces to him. After that, he could do whatever he wanted with them.
The rest of the group trickled in, helping themselves to the coffee, tea and pastries Bailey had ordered. No Travis, though. Mal kept a sharp eye on the door, waiting to see his shadow a moment before he stepped through, all strong shoulders and dark ink.
But he never turned up and she couldn’t bring herself to ask the group if they’d heard from him, afraid that everything she was trying to keep deep inside, safely contained in the walls she’d put back up, would show on her face. So she waited until the last people left, walking the three stragglers out to the lobby and personally seeing them onto the elevator before she allowed herself to inquire about Travis’s absence.
“Bailey? Did anyone call while I was in the meeting?” Mal didn’t say his name. She wanted to, but her tongue twisted and all she managed was, “We were short one attendee.”
“No.” Bailey shook her head. “No one called the main line. Do you need me to call anyone for you?” Her hand was poised, ready to take down the number or make the call.
“That’s fine, thank you. I’ll follow up.” And a fresh, clean anger burbled inside her. After all the angst, the emotional drain on her life, and he didn’t even show up? She stormed down the hall to her office, grabbed her purse from her desk and retraced her steps to the lobby.
No, she had not gone through all of this to be foiled so easily. She was returning his gram’s jewelry. And she was doing it today. And while she was at it, she planned to remind him that the charity event wasn’t some feel-good celebration for dilettantes, where the money earned was used to pay for the cost of putting it on. This was about raising money for the homeless in the community, and she expected him to honor his commitment, no matter what had happened between them.
Bailey blinked when she saw her reappear. “Ms. Ford? Is everything all right?”
“No, but it will be soon. I just need to step out,” Mal said. “If anyone calls, I should be back before noon.”
“Of course.” Ever the professional, Bailey took the change in routine in stride. “Should I order lunch in for you?”
“No.” Mal nearly ground her teeth with the effort to keep her tone mild. “I don’t think I’ll be hungry.”
Her stomach was hard, full of knots and tension, as though she’d swallowed a stone of discontent. She huffed out a breath as she climbed into her car and accelerated out of the parking lot onto the busy city streets. But she’d grown up here and knew the streets well. Which ones were filled with tourists. Which ones curved and changed direction before you realized you were now heading away from your destination. Which ones turned into routes for buses only. And which one was the fastest way to Travis’s new pub.
Her car growled as she punched the gas, darting through an intersection, past a minivan with tinted windows and a hatchback that had an empty ski rack on its roof. This wouldn’t take long.
Mal saw the construction trucks parked by the curb and squeezed in behind one. It was marked as a loading zone, but she didn’t intend to be any longer than five minutes. The sound of saws buzzing through wood and the scent of sawdust greeted her as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door.
She ignored the sign that said she was entering a construction site, banging on the door with a flat palm. The sawing didn’t stop, but a grizzled man whose jeans had seen better days pulled open the door. “Yeah?”
“I’m here to see Travis.” She tapped one high-heeled toe. Her footwear was wholly inappropriate, as was her expensive silk dress, but then she hadn’t chosen her clothing with the idea that she’d be crashing a construction zone. She glared at the man when he didn’t move. “Now.”
“Just a minute.” He wasn’t happy. She could hear him grumbling behind the door after he shut it in her face. Mal didn’t care. He could grumble all he wanted about people showing up without proper footwear and how he was supposed to be told about visitors in advance, but she was still getting inside.
It took longer than a minute, but eventually Mal heard the clomp of returning footsteps. The same man opened the door, a battered orange hard hat in one hand, a reflective vest in the other. He thrust them at her. “Here.”
Mal put them on without complaint and told herself not to think of where either item might have been. She didn’t have to wear them long. And maybe the five second rule applied, although in this case it would need to be a five minute rule. She followed the grumbler inside.
The interior was in mid renovation. Mal found herself checking things out as they walked. Bright spotlights had been set up to give extra light as various people worked on the walls and the posts. The ceiling had undergone a renaissance and now gleamed, well oiled to a golden glow. She wanted to pause and drink it in. It looked so similar to how she remembered, but better. But she wasn’t here to see what Travis was doing with the place. It was of no importance to her.
But as she crossed the floor, scarred and half torn up, seeing the posts, which had also been refurbished, her eyes straying to the long bar, which was covered in a thick drop cloth weighted down by rocks, she couldn’t help but imagine the finished product. The place was going to be beautiful, with elements of all the many things she’d loved about the original brought forth and highlighted in a new, modern style. The one place she didn’t look was the bar. That long, beautiful bar where such a short time ago she’d been intimate with Travis.
“Hey.” The grumbler waved at her from across the room. “This way.”
Mal shook off her thoughts of that day and her imaginings of what the space would look like when finished. If she wanted to see it, she could visit once it was open for business. No need to use any brain power to fantasize about it now. She picked her way across the floor, avoiding loose nails, boards and the occasional to
ol, catching up with the grumbler who was now mumbling about people not watching where they were going and how he had better things to do with his day than play tour guide.
“There.” The grumbler was a man of few words when it came to actual conversation, simply pointing down a short hall with three doorways. Only one had an actual door installed.
Mal paused in front of it, her nerves suddenly jumping. The back of her neck prickled and she felt a roll of jitters run through her. But she wasn’t about to be done in by some jitters and a prickle. Not even one that made her knees wobble. She lifted her hand and knocked, sucking in a deep breath for courage.
“Yes?”
Mal knew she could have bolted then, gone back the way she’d come, tossing her hard hat and vest at the grumbler, or anywhere, really, and escaped out the front door as though she’d never been there at all. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t consider it. But she refused to leave without getting closure. She’d done that the last time and thus had begun the longest year and a half of her life. She wouldn’t do that again. Couldn’t.
Instead, she gathered her poise, clutched her purse more tightly against her side and pushed open the door.
Travis sat behind a plain wood desk that had seen better days. A battered file cabinet sat in the corner, a pair of work boots beside it. There was a long table with blueprints and other papers spread out on it and a metal folding chair for guests. Mal remained standing in the doorway.
“Mal.” Travis blinked when he looked up, emotions running across his face. Surprise and wonder, before he shuttered his eyes and sent her a tight smile. “What are you doing here?”
She felt the anger rise anew. He hadn’t even remembered. Her event had been so unimportant that in only three days apart, he’d managed to wipe it completely from his mind. “You missed the meeting.” Her tone was frosty, as she’d intended it to be.
“Ah.” He sat back in his chair. “About that, I thought it was best that I skip this one.”
That was it. No apology. No excuse. Not that she wanted his apology. “You should have left me a message. We waited for you.”
“I did leave you a message.” The whine of the buzz saw filled the room, drowning out the rest of his words. Mal stayed where she was while Travis’s mouth stopped moving. He pushed himself out of his battered-looking desk chair. He was dressed for the site—a pair of old jeans, and a plain white T-shirt that had seen better days, worn so thin from washing that she could see the outline of his tattoos through it.
Mal couldn’t take her eyes off them as he walked toward her. Her mouth felt dry, and not from inhaling sawdust. Her fingers flexed and she curled them against her palms. They weren’t her tattoos to touch. Not anymore.
He reached toward her. Mal’s heart thumped. She didn’t know what to do. Run? Tell him to keep his hands to himself? Let herself be held for just a minute? But he simply reached past her to shut the door.
She could smell his scent. That particular mix of wood and oranges. She let her eyes drift shut and took a deep breath. But just one. And then he was back on the other side of the desk.
“I called and left a message on your phone this morning.”
Right. She was supposed to be angry, not absorbing his essence. “You should have come.” Travis merely shrugged, which triggered her aggravation. “The charity event is important. More important than whatever’s happened between us.”
“No.” His voice was firm. “It’s not. Nothing is more important than us.”
Mal ignored that. She hadn’t come here to talk about them. There was no them. “You made a commitment to the event.”
“And I’ll honor it. I’m sorry I didn’t come to this morning’s meeting. I thought I was being prudent. Now I know better.”
His easy acceptance tamped down some of her fire. “Well, good. Because there are a lot of people counting on us.”
“I won’t miss another meeting.”
Mal swallowed and nodded, tried not to think of the actual logistics of seeing Travis across the table and having to act as though there was nothing wrong. She slipped her hand into her purse. “I want you to have these.”
She pulled one box free and placed it on the desk. His eyes tracked the motion of the blue box and then looked back at her. Mal then produced the gray box. She nudged both boxes toward him when he didn’t reach for them. She saw his fingers flex, noted the ripple of his biceps highlighted by the edge of the Scottish Cross tattoo peeking out beneath his shirtsleeve.
But Travis still didn’t touch them. “What are those?” His voice was tight, the outline of his jaw suddenly sharp.
“They belong to you. To your family.” It was the right thing to return the jewelry, so Travis or his brother could give them to someone else, someone who would be a permanent part of their future.
His hand flashed out, grabbed the gray box, which held the earrings. He flipped the lid open and stared at them. Then he looked at her. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Mal was taken aback. “They belong to your family.”
His fingers curled around the box and she was pretty sure his gaze could melt steel. “My grandmother willed these to you. My grandmother, who loved you, left you something personal to remember her and you’re throwing them back in my face?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TRAVIS NEARLY CRUSHED the box in his hand he was so angry. So hurt. That she could just hand his gram’s jewelry over as if it meant nothing to her. Held no place in her heart. The box flipped open under the pressure from his hand, but Travis didn’t look away from the woman in front of him.
Mal shook her head. “No, you misunderstand.”
“Oh, I think you’ve been clear.” It was a rejection. Another damn rejection. Or perhaps a final exclamation point on the original one. Only this time it was more than a rejection of him. “She was a good woman, Mal.”
“This isn’t about your grandma.”
“No?” He snapped the box shut so he didn’t have to look at the gleaming jewels anymore. He didn’t even reach for the other box. He already knew what was inside. “Then what is it about?”
“The jewelry should stay in your family.” Her throat bobbed, her hands twisted around each other. “Maybe Shane will want to give them to his future wife.” There was a long pause. “Maybe you will.”
He could have exploded then, let out all the pent-up disappointment and regret and frustration in one volcanic eruption. He gripped the edge of the desk instead, feeling it bite into his palms. “She willed them to you.”
“She thought we were still together. Don’t you think that influenced her decision?”
He couldn’t definitively say no, which only highlighted the fact that his grandma wasn’t here. The thought was a punch to the gut. Yet another one. He felt as though he’d been taking a lot of them lately. He ran his thumb along the edge of the desk, striving for control. “My point stands. It was your name she put down.”
“Only because you didn’t tell her we weren’t together. She didn’t know.”
“That wouldn’t have mattered to her. She loved you. She’d have wanted to give you something to remember her.”
“Sure, something.” Mal put her hands on her hips. “Not heirloom jewelry.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you.”
They glared at each other for a moment. “Fine. Neither of us know. Satisfied?”
“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t come here to get satisfaction, Travis.”
“Then why did you come?” He put the box down on the desk, his eyes never leaving hers. “You could have called about the meeting, used a messenger to drop off the jewelry.”
“Don’t go twisting this into something it’s not,” she told him. “I don’t have any secret agenda.”
“No?” Because it occurred to him that, even now, she could just walk back out the door, seeing as she’d completed what she’d come for. And so hope, that vicious little beast, dug its claws into his heart.
“No.” She straightened her shoulders. “And tell your family I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She frowned and looked at him as though he was missing the point, which he obviously was. “That I won’t see them again. It’s a normal thing to say after a breakup.” She paused. “You did tell them, didn’t you?”
Travis ground his teeth together. “No.” He’d been sort of busy the last three days, focusing on not punching something or someone, finding a new place to live, because as generous as Owen was allowing him to stay in the apartment, Travis no longer felt comfortable there.
“See?” Mal threw her hands into the air. “This is what I’m talking about. You just keep everything important hidden. Secreting it away.”
“It’s my business to tell them—my choice to share or not.” So sue him. He didn’t want to call his family, who were still in mourning, and tell them that he and Mal were over. He didn’t want to answer the questions that would arise. Like what had happened, since they’d seemed so happy together. His jaw ached from clenching. They had been happy. At least, he’d thought they were happy.
Mal shook her head. “You can do whatever you want with your life, Travis. It’s not my place to say, but I will tell you that you create distance. You make people think you don’t care.”
“What are you talking about? How many times do I have to tell you that I love you? That you’re the only person in the world for me.”
“But you don’t mean it.” He saw her face crumple, sensed the tears before he saw them make her eyes shiny with grief. “You let me go when I needed you most.”
“What do you mean when you needed me most?”
“My dad was sick, the family was in turmoil. I had to come back and you let me. You didn’t offer to come with me, you didn’t even want to try and make it work. You just washed your hands of me.”
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