“You were definitely in my past. But now I’m sitting here with you and a cookie and... I want an answer. You owe me that.” She could feel the anger rising and welcomed it. His smile. His voice. The way he looked at her. While her body only seemed to remember the good times, she needed to keep in mind this man had already had his chance and he’d blown it. “If you loved me so much, why did you think it wouldn’t last?”
“Your family didn’t think I was the right guy for you,” he said. “Your father made it pretty clear you were destined for greater things than being married to the son of a roofer who was between jobs and who had met his daughter at a party on a college campus he didn’t belong on.”
“Greater things? I work for a tech company in Providence, testing software.”
“I had nothing.”
“So? We would have built a life together and you certainly wouldn’t have been the first man to have to win his father-in-law over.”
Brendan tilted his head, his gaze locked with hers. “It was more than that. I was rough and you were so...”
When his words trailed off, her fingers tightened around the handle of her coffee mug. “I was so what?”
“You were slumming, Del.”
Shock and anger rose up inside of her in equal measure and she let go of the mug so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw it. Not that she’d make that kind of a spectacle of herself, but her emotions were like a storm in her head. “Are those your words or my father’s?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
She watched him struggle with what he was going to say. Even years later, his expressions were so familiar to her, she didn’t have any trouble reading him. But what she didn’t know was why he was having a hard time with the words. Did he not want to tell her, or did he not want to tell her the truth?
“He didn’t use the word ‘slumming,’” he said finally. “But what he did say made it pretty clear that’s what he thought. And maybe I didn’t think he was wrong about me not being the kind of guy you’d be happy with long-term. The more time I spent with your family, the less I felt like I belonged there.”
He didn’t look at her as he spoke, staring instead at the remains of his cookie. She should probably be thankful, because if the pain in his eyes matched the pain in his voice, she’d be tempted to walk around the table and hug him. As it was, she knew she’d take almost any excuse to touch him. Six years’ worth of hurt and anger obviously hadn’t been enough to kill off her feelings for him.
“You didn’t have to belong with them. You belonged with me.”
“Tell me you didn’t feel it, too, Del. You were already being pulled between me and your family. I thought—hoped—it would get better, but the more serious they could see our relationship was, the less they liked me. It was only a matter of time before you’d have to choose.”
“So you walked away and didn’t look back,” she forced herself to say. “You didn’t even give me an opportunity to choose you.”
“You’re so close with your family. I did it—”
“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t you dare say you did it for my own good or I’ll walk away right now because that’s bullshit.”
“Can I say I did it for our own good?” He shifted in his chair, leaning forward so his forearms rested on the table. She looked at his hands, weathered and callused, remembering the way using her thumb or fingertip to draw circles on his palm would drive him crazy. “Or maybe my own good. At the time I believed I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be and it would hurt less to end it before we started down that path.”
Tears made her vision shimmer and she tried to blink them away. Her heart had already been on that path, and she was pretty sure his had been, too. “You were wrong.”
He met her gaze then, and the regret in his eyes removed any doubt. “I’ve wondered that every day since then.”
Del was in trouble. She’d loved this man completely and sitting across from him—almost close enough to touch, which she ached to do—and seeing the emotion on his face was making her come undone inside. Agreeing to meet him for coffee had been a big enough mistake on its own. She didn’t need to make it bigger by giving in to the chemistry still sizzling between them.
She needed to change the subject to something that didn’t remind her of how his touch used to make her feel. “When did you start fighting?”
* * *
Brendan leaned back in his chair, trying to hide his disappointment at the turn in the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about himself. He wanted to talk about her. He didn’t know yet if she’d found happiness after her heart had healed from the pain he’d caused. “Not too long after our last phone call. I needed to hit things and joined a gym, and it just happened to be one where a couple of fighters trained. It was a good outlet, I guess.”
“You must be good to get such a big poster.”
He laughed, remembering the way she’d flipped the image of him the bird earlier. The gesture was unlike her—at the least the younger version of her he’d known and loved—and he couldn’t shake the memory. “I’m not bad.”
“There was a long line to meet you. Are you going to win?”
He grinned, holding up his palm in a who knows gesture. “I’m the underdog.”
“Ah.”
“Do you want to watch the fight?”
Her eyes widened and then she shook her head. “As satisfying as it might be to watch you get punched in the face a few times, I don’t have any interest in fighting.”
Until she said no, he hadn’t realized how badly he wanted her to say yes, but he hid the disappointment behind a casual shrug. “It’s pretty exciting, actually. Since you’re obviously not here for the fights, what brings you here?”
“Kate’s getting married. Do you remember her?”
“Of course I do.” Kate and Brittany had been her roommates and best friends, and they’d both been a lot like Del. Attractive, fashionable and with parents who didn’t lose sleep paying bills.
“Okay. Well, she’s getting married and her bridal shower was really formal and old-fashioned, so she talked Brittany and me into coming here for a bachelorette weekend. I came early, though, because I had vacation time to use up.”
“And you were wandering the casino instead of curling up in your pajamas with a book?”
She laughed, a genuine Del laugh that kicked him in the gut. “I need to stop being so predictable.”
“No, you don’t.” He’d always liked her just the way she was.
“And I wasn’t wandering around the casino. Just the hallways, looking for something to eat. I haven’t actually been into the casinos yet.”
“Did you find something to eat?” He wished he’d thought to ask her to have dinner with him instead of coffee, especially since their cups were almost empty. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but she seemed to be drinking hers as slowly as he was. The last sip was inevitable, though.
“I had room service sent up after I ran into you.”
He let the lost opportunity go. “So Kate’s getting married in December?”
“Yeah, I guess she’s always dreamed of getting married on Christmas Eve.”
“That seems a little inconvenient for everybody else, doesn’t it?”
“She’s keeping it small and intimate for just that reason. But everybody who knows and loves her has always been aware this Christmas Eve would come. It’s her thing. She thinks waking up as a wife for the first time on Christmas Day will be magical or something. She’s a pretty hopeless romantic.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not anymore.”
The flat way she said those two words left no doubt she’d had her heart badly broken, and it killed him to know it had been him who’d done it.
“When are they arriving?” he asked, not wanting to go back to talking about how much he’d hurt her.
“Brittany’s supposed to get in really, really late tomorrow night and Kate will be he
re on the early side Saturday morning. They’ve always been that way. Brittany’s a night owl and Kate’s an early bird. Anyway, how is your family doing?”
His stomach clenched, the way it always did when somebody he hadn’t seen in a long time asked about his family. He didn’t want to spoil the small amount of time he had left with Del, so he kept it simple. “They’re doing well. Business is good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I always liked them.”
When she took a drink of her coffee, tipping the cup in such a way it was obviously the last of it, Brendan’s stomach tightened. She’d agreed to give him one cup’s worth of time and that time was up. He finished his off since he wouldn’t push her to stay if she wanted to leave. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
“You want another?”
She looked at him for a long moment, her pretty green eyes not giving up whatever thoughts were running through her mind. Then she shook her head and his chest started to ache. “I’ve got pajamas and a book waiting for me.”
He stood and returned the mugs to the counter while she threw away the cookie wrappers and napkins. Then he fell into step beside her, not wanting to say goodbye to her in the middle of a coffee shop in front of a woman who had nothing better to do than watch them. “I’ll walk you to the elevators.”
She smiled and didn’t refuse the offer, so he walked with her into the lobby. There were a lot of people around and, judging by their attire, a lot of them were there for the fights. He thought he saw Janie and Corey in the distance and turned his face so there could be no chance of eye contact, hoping nobody else was around. He’d already felt his phone buzz half a dozen times with what were probably text messages from his manager or trainer. Probably from both. They wouldn’t be happy he’d fallen off the radar the night before a big fight, but he didn’t care.
“Are you happy, Del?” he asked. Besides not wanting to miss the unexpected opportunity to see her again, he was there to finally learn the answer to the question that had been haunting him for years.
“I’m not crying myself to sleep thinking about you every night, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Of course not. I just...leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and the only thing that got me through it was knowing that, once you got past our breakup, you’d find somebody who could make you really happy. You deserved that.”
“You made me happy. And my family would have grown to like you once they got a chance to really know you like I did. They never would have made me choose between them and you.”
He couldn’t tell if she was deliberately avoiding answering his question, but at least she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get away from it. It wasn’t a very long walk to the elevator bank, but they were walking so slowly, if they moved any slower, they’d be standing still. Despite that, he was running out of time. “You’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
“I’m not married.” She sighed, giving a small shrug he caught in his peripheral vision. “I’ve dated some great guys and had a couple of serious relationships, but none of them were quite right.”
His emotional response to that could only be called conflicted. It would have killed him to know there was some lucky guy waking up beside her every morning, sharing her life with her. But part of him couldn’t help feeling all the pain he’d put them both through had been for nothing if she hadn’t moved forward in her life.
They reached the elevators and after hitting the button, she turned to face him. “I’m glad I ran into you, Brendan. I guess I never really had closure on our relationship and it was good to talk, even if I’m not sure it really helped. I think it would have been easier—or at least made more sense—if you told me you’d fallen for somebody else.”
“There was nobody else. There still isn’t.” He’d given up hope there ever would be, though he’d tried to make a go of a few relationships. None of them were Del. “I’ve thought about you every day, wondering how your life is going.”
“But you never called to ask.”
He sucked in a breath, thinking of all the times he almost gave in and called her just to hear her voice. One time, after he’d had a few drinks, he’d tried but it had been two years and she must have gotten a new number because the woman who answered had never heard of her. He could have reached out to her parents, or to Kate or Brittany, but he didn’t. In the light of day, he’d convinced himself all over again it was best he leave her alone.
“I’m sorry, Del. I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my life than I am about the way things ended between us.” Or that he’d ended their relationship at all, but again, he didn’t want to push. He’d made his choice and even though it had been the wrong one, he had to live with it.
“I hope you win your fight tomorrow night.”
“Thanks. Win or lose, it should be a good show, at least.”
As the control panel dinged and the doors slid open, a few guys slid by Del and stepped into the empty car. They were loud and he watched the uncertainty on her face. The elevators could be notoriously slow, but he could see that she didn’t like the idea of being alone with four men who’d obviously been drinking. And neither was he.
Brendan took her hand and stepped into the elevator. The button for the thirty-fourth floor was already lit up and when she sighed and didn’t reach for the panel, he realized she and the guys were all on the same floor. He turned his back to them as the doors slid closed and squeezed her hand.
They rode in silence as the men laughed and rehashed their wins and losses for the evening. Mostly losses from the sound of it, but the liquor seemed to have made having less cash and no women more fun than usual.
When the elevator car settled and the door slid open, he and Del stepped into the hallway and she nudged him to the left. The men followed and he guided her to one side so they could go by. She didn’t let go of his hand and didn’t tell him she didn’t need him to walk her to her door, so he went with it. Goodbye would come soon enough.
“Those guys were wearing T-shirts with your name on them but they didn’t even notice you in the elevator,” she said quietly when the men were far enough ahead so they wouldn’t hear her over their own voices.
“I’m telling you, it’s the beige sweater.” He chuckled. “It’s a great disguise, especially since none of my ink is above the neckline.”
She stopped suddenly and since there was no way in hell he was letting go of her hand until she let go first, he stopped, too. “Oh, I meant to ask you about the ink, since I saw the tattoos on the poster of you.”
“Yeah. I’ve got a few.”
“Since when? You never talked about wanting a tattoo before.”
“I got the first one after my first fight. Then I got a few more.”
“Huh.” She started walking again. “What are they?”
“Mostly just abstract stuff.” He didn’t want to talk about the ink with her. Especially not tonight.
A few doors later, she stopped walking again. “This is mine.”
But she didn’t let go of his hand. “I was hoping you’d forget your room number and we could just walk around all night.”
She smiled. “I’ve missed you, Brendan.”
“I’ve missed you, too. I knew I did, but I didn’t know how much until I saw you again. You know, right after you flipped off my picture.”
Her laughter echoed in the hall before she hushed herself, making an oops face. “I want to see your tattoos, dammit.”
“You want me to take my sweater off here in the hall?”
“No.” She looked down at their hands, where their fingers were laced together like the last six years hadn’t happened. He kept his mouth shut, letting her work through her thoughts. Then she tilted her head back to look at him. “I want to see, though, because I didn’t look that closely at the poster. And there’s a coffeemaker in the room with some decaf packets. One more cup?”
“One more cup.” He had to let go of her hand so she could get h
er key card out of the small purse dangling from her other wrist. While she unlocked the door, he tried to tell himself not to get his hopes up.
He also tried to tell himself she wouldn’t notice one little tattoo mixed in with the others, but lying to himself wasn’t one of his strong suits. How she’d feel about it, though, he had no idea.
Chapter Three
Del stepped to one side so Brendan could go by and then let the door swing closed. Once she’d thrown the security bar, she tucked the key card back in her purse and tossed it next to the television on the big bureau.
She refused to second-guess herself any more tonight. She wasn’t any more capable of resisting Brendan now than she had been six years ago, and she wasn’t going to try anymore. He’d been a gentleman, of course, but she knew he wanted her. The smoldering looks he didn’t always manage to mask. The way he watched her mouth when she talked. And the way he’d squeezed her hand and not let her go until he had to.
What better place for a fling with an old flame than a casino hotel? She could have him one more time and then they’d go their separate ways again. But this time she’d be able to say goodbye and hold her head up as she walked away. Maybe she’d finally feel some sense of closure because she sure hadn’t before.
The room was dark except for the small bedside lamp she’d turned on before she left because she hated returning to an unlit hotel room. Brendan was at the window, looking out at the view. The moon was just bright enough to reflect off the river and show a hint of the tree line, and below them, cars still drove around the perimeter road.
“Pretty high up,” he said. “Doesn’t bother you?”
He remembered she didn’t like heights, she thought. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, since she remembered almost everything about him. “Not really. I trust the glass, I guess. So are you going to show me those tattoos?”
Turning his head to look at her, he grinned. “You really want to see them?”
“Of course I do.” She’d spent a lot of time thinking about his body over the years—dreaming about it more often than she cared to admit—but she couldn’t picture him with tattoos.
A Fighting Chance Page 3