Flirting with Fifty

“You’re angry.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hurt.”

“You’re very good. A gold star to you. I am angry and hurt. Sad, too. This isn’t how I wanted things to go. This isn’t what I thought would happen—”

“Then accept my apology. Give me a second chance.”

She opened her mouth, closed it. It was a struggle to find her voice. “It’s not that simple.”

“But it is,” he answered. “It’s called forgiveness. Forgive me, so we can make this work. There’s no reason it can’t work. You care for me. I care for you—”

“This will happen again. We’ll disappoint each other again.”

“Yes. We’re human. People make mistakes. Hopefully we can learn from our mistakes and do better.”

He wasn’t wearing sunglasses now. She could see the shadows beneath his eyes. He looked tired. Troubled. She’d never seen him without that light in his eyes, the teasing glint. It wasn’t there now. There was no brightness in him.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said quietly, not wanting to inflict more pain but determined to be honest. “I’m scared. Scared at the power you have over me.”

“You have the same power over me. My heart—my happiness—rests in your hands. I was planning a future with you. I want you in it.” He hesitated. “I need you in it.”

Words, she thought. They were just words. But they were also good words, hopeful words.

If only she could believe him.

If only she could forgive him.

Paige wasn’t good at forgiving those who hurt her.

She closed her eyes, tried to let go of some of the tightness knotting her stomach. “You know what happens after lunch?” she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear.

“What?”

“Another game drive.” She opened her eyes, looked at him. “Another four hours in the jeep.”

He gazed back at her, a long searching look, before nodding once. “There’s a lot of jeep time on these safaris.”

“I had no idea.” She glanced at the other couples. “How do they find it romantic?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I have no idea.”

Paige cracked a shadow of a smile. “I’m still mad at you,” she said after a moment. “We’re still in a fight.”

“I understand,” he said gravely.

“We’re not back together,” she added for good measure.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “No, we’re not.” He wrapped both hands around hers, holding it securely between his. “You’re angry.”

She knew what he was doing now. He was repeating her words back to her. She fought the impulse to melt, or smile. She absolutely, most definitely wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a smile. Or melting. There would be no melting today. “I’m angry,” she agreed.

“You’re hurt.”

Dammit. He was doing it. Her lower lip quivered. He was breaking her down. He was making her feel. “Yes.”

His eyes met hers and held, the gold-brown depths warm, sympathetic. “You’re sad.”

And Paige’s eyes burned, hot, scalding hot, and tears started. She couldn’t hold back the tears or the snort of inelegant laughter. “So sad,” she repeated, between gasps of laughter. She laughed so hard she cried.

Jack rose, drew her to her feet, signaled to Baraka that they’d be back, and led her from the lodge to the lounge chairs close to the water. He sat down on one, pulled her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight. The tears fell in earnest, real tears, tears because she felt as if she’d lost everything but suddenly hope returned. Possibility was back. She could almost see the future again.

“Jack, I love you so much it scares me,” she whispered against his neck. “I can’t lose you.”

He rubbed her back. “You’re not going to.”

“I almost did,” she sniffed.

“You didn’t.”

“No, I did,” she said firmly.

He laughed softly. “Okay, but it was only in your head. I didn’t go anywhere, and I wasn’t going to go anywhere. I came prepared to fight for you. I wasn’t going to return to Arusha without you, without us being us.”

“You should have had a backup plan.”

He laughed again, kissed her cheek. “There is you, and only you. And I think that’s how it’s always been. From the beginning.”

She lifted her head, looked into his beautiful face. His smile had faded; his expression was somber, determined. She kissed his forehead, his skin warm against her lips. “Don’t break my heart.”

“That’s the last thing I want to do. It’s my job to protect your heart. To protect you.” He cupped her face in his big hands, the palms calloused. “Paige, marry me.”

She hadn’t heard him right. She frowned, stared at him, confused.

“I’m sure you understood me,” he said. “My accent isn’t that strong anymore.”

“But . . .”

He lifted a brow. “Mmm?”

“You don’t marry.”