"Me as well. Kate, I want to apologize for being a first-class jerk in the way I treated you. I had all these needs I didn't understand. I understand them now."
I looked at his face and didn’t see any deceit on it, but he was so attractive, his face so innocent in its masculine beauty, I had no idea if he was putting it on or being truthful.
"Give me a chance," he said, leaning closer, his finger brushing my cheek. "Let's have coffee. Dinner."
At that moment, a flash went off and I turned, holding my hand over my eyes to see what it was. A photographer, hanging around outside the venue taking pictures in case a celebrity exited.
"Fuck off," Kurt said, turning his back to the photographer, sheltering me as I stood against the brick wall of the building. "Jerks," he said, looking down at me almost possessively. "I really missed you, Katie," he said as if he couldn't accept what I was saying. He moved closer to me, leaning his arm against the wall beside my head as if trying to block my exit. "I thought we were such a good match. I was really hurt when you broke it off."
The cameras flashed as someone else left the club – someone deserving of the paparazzo's notice. Kurt leaned closer, his finger tilting my chin up as if he was going to kiss me.
I pulled back. "Stop. I have a boyfriend," I said, touching my collar. "A serious boyfriend. We're going to Africa in a few weeks, to live there for six months."
"My loss," he said softly. His gaze moved over my face. "I missed those pretty green eyes of yours," he said, smiling. " "I always thought I was just your type, Kate. A marine like your old man, a volunteer, dominant… If you feel like giving it another chance, call me." He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. I pulled my hand away.
"Tell me about your new man."
"He's a doctor at NYP. A volunteer with Doctors Without Borders. A neurosurgeon."
Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Neurosurgeon? Not Morgan…"
I nodded. "Drake Morgan, yes."
Kurt frowned, his hand on the wall beside my head. "He's your old man's friend. He's really well-respected, but jeez, Kate. He's forty, isn't he? A bit old for you, don't you think?"
"He's thirty seven. Only six years older than you."
"Seven."
"Seven," I said, frustrated. "I'm in love with him and he's in love with me. I can't meet you or have coffee or anything." I turned and walked to the street, looking for my father's limo. It wasn't in sight so I took out my cell and texted the driver, requesting that he take me home earlier than I had indicated. He texted me back that he was getting gas and would be about ten minutes.
That was too long. I started walking to the street, planning on hailing a taxi.
"Kate," Kurt said, catching up with me again, standing far too close to me. "Let me at least give you a ride home."
"I have a limo service – and a boyfriend."
He sighed and smiled softly. "When you're free again, keep me in mind. I felt like we never really made a true go of it."
"We did make a go of it. It didn’t work out." I turned to him. "I'm happy with Drake."
"If you're ever unhappy with Morgan, please keep me in mind. I've learned a lot about things since we broke up. I've grown up, Kate. If things don't work out with you and Morgan, give me a chance."
"Things are working out with us," I said, turning away.
Luckily, an empty taxi pulled up. "Goodbye, Kurt," I said, never so happy to be out of a man's company.
"Goodbye, sweetheart," he said and blew me a kiss. I frowned as I closed the door. Kurt stood on the curb and watched, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face as we drove off.
I fumed on the drive home, upset that Kurt felt so empowered to push me, and upset that I hadn't told him to fuck off the way I had before, just a year earlier. I was so unnerved to see him out of the blue. I knew he'd been away in Africa, flying for some regional airline, and so had no expectation that I'd ever run into him at a DWB function.
There he was, looking as gorgeous as ever, and seemingly, still interested in giving me a chance. I had no interest in him – Drake was all I needed. Kurt was just a bad memory from my past that served to show how naïve I was back when I was with him.
I couldn't wait to get back to Drake, check on how he was doing, feeling somewhat guilty that I'd left him alone and had run into Kurt. It wasn't my fault he was at the fundraiser – I had no idea he was even back in the US – but it would have been much better if Drake had been with me to show Kurt that I wasn't available. I hoped it was the last time I saw him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Drake was asleep on the couch when I got back, his head turned to the side, the blanket pulled up to his chin, a pile of used tissues on the coffee table. The television was on, set to a news channel. He looked pale as he lay on the couch, his nose red, and I wondered if the medicine he took prior to the procedure hadn't weakened his immune system. I hung up my coat as quietly as possible, shucked off my boots and tiptoed to the doorway to watch him from a distance, not wanting to wake him. I'd let him sleep and wake up when he was ready.