Sizzling Nights with Dr. Off-Limits

“Maybe I would.”

Emily sat quietly eating her food and staring at her plate rather than look at him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Emily.”

She dropped her fork.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things,” he continued, trying not to wince at her pale face. “Especially how sad you became during our marriage. I regret that I ever played any role in you not being happy.”

Her gaze lifted to his.

He waited, not trying to hide his sincerity, not surprised at her look of disbelief. Or was that disgust?

She obviously wanted to scream. She practically did. “No. You can’t do this to me.”

Not understanding her anger, he asked, “What?”

She pushed her plate away from her and shook her head. “You can’t come in here apologizing and acting like you regret how we ended.”

“I do regret how we ended.” More than she’d ever know or believe, he regretted everything that had gone wrong between them. “I’ve always regretted how we ended.”

“Bull.” She pushed herself away from the table and walked over to the refrigerator. She pulled out two individual glass servings of what appeared to be pudding with a dollop of whipped cream on top.

Which didn’t exactly fit with the theme of their meal. He loved pudding. Always had.

He had a vague flashback of pushing her away after she’d attempted to make pudding that had turned out to be a clumpy mess instead of anything close to edible.

Not that he’d cared about the pudding, but the broken look in her eyes had about killed him. When she’d started crying yet again, he hadn’t been able to stand it, had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away the tears in her eyes, had wanted to tease her, spread the liquid concoction on her lips and suck it off until they both forgot about everything except each other.

Instead, they’d fought. Badly. He’d stormed out of the house and gone to stay the night at the hospital doctors’ lounge. That had been the end.

The night he’d told her if she was that unhappy, she should leave.

She had left. Because she had been that unhappy. He had made her that unhappy.

When he’d come home the next day, she’d been gone and the tiny apartment had never felt more lonely, more claustrophobic, more cheap and distasteful.

He hadn’t meant his words. He’d not wanted her to leave. He hadn’t wanted her to be unhappy, either. No matter what he’d done, he hadn’t been able to make Emily happy.

Pride had taken over and bad had gone to worse.

What an immature idiot he’d been.

A selfish, immature idiot who’d driven away the best woman to ever come into his life. She’d been a likable person. A good person. Honest, wholesome, real, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.

A person unlike any he’d ever known.

“I really am sorry things turned out the way they did, Emily. I’m also sorry if that truth upsets you.”

“I’m not upset,” she obviously lied. Not looking at him, she shrugged. “Life turned out the way it was supposed to.”

“Do you believe that?” Because he wasn’t so sure. Instead, he wondered if the way they’d ended had left them both with too many unresolved emotions to really ever move on. Then again, perhaps it was only him who felt that way. Maybe she really was happy now and he should just leave well enough alone. So why couldn’t he?

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m not so sure,” he admitted, surprising himself at his honesty, surprising himself by standing and moving to stand near to her.

* * *