A viselike grip clenched his heart. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to win Paisley back. Nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice, including his pride. His life meant nothing without her. Even if he’d gotten the revenge he wanted on Sterling, it would have been an empty victory because he’d lost Paisley and she took precedence over everything else.
He scooped up his keys and headed out the back office door. His driver had taken Paisley home the other night and Lucas had ordered the guy to hang around since then for anything she needed.
Lucas couldn’t believe she hadn’t texted to tell him to back off, but perhaps she was that angry she didn’t even want to talk. Or maybe she was using the driver, who knew.
There was nothing Lucas wouldn’t give her to make her life easier. He somehow had to get her to understand his actions, and that he’d cared for her, even though he had a poor way of showing it.
Lucas climbed into his SUV and headed toward her town house. He wasn’t giving her a heads-up; he didn’t want her to make excuses to leave or talk him out of not coming. He needed to see her, needed to just tell his side. Hell, he’d beg, plead, sell his soul to get her back.
He wasn’t too proud to admit he’d been a bastard. He wasn’t too proud to lay his heart on the line for the woman that he loved. Once he put everything out there, he’d respect her enough to back away and let her think. Walking away would kill him, but he had to let her come to him on her own if that was what she decided.
Baring his heart, laying it before her, and then walking away and leaving all control to her was going to be pure hell. But nothing could be worse than not having her at all.
Four days was too long to be without his wife. It was time to reclaim his life, their life, and find a way to make things right.
* * *
Sundays were meant for relaxing, but Paisley felt anything but relaxed.
She’d received an insane amount of money in her business account, more than enough to order any dress she’d ever want in her shop, more than enough to pay off her building, and more than enough if she wanted to throw a new car into the mix.
So how could she relax when her soon-to-be ex-husband was trying to buy his way back into her life?
Not that she wasn’t thankful for the exorbitant amount of money, but she couldn’t keep it. She was filing for divorce and she wasn’t going to take something that wasn’t hers...the money or the man.
Paisley tightened the belt on her robe and started to head to the master bedroom for a shower when her doorbell rang. Who on earth would be here on a Sunday morning? She didn’t just get drop-in visitors and she certainly hadn’t invited anyone over. With the mood she’d been in, she tried to keep to herself for fear of lashing out at anyone who asked how she was doing.
She’d had to save every bit of patience and smiles for her customers. Today, though, she’d wanted to do absolutely nothing. She wanted to give her mind time to rest, her heart time to heal, but none of that would happen anytime soon.
She’d never gotten over Lucas when she’d left him years ago—how the hell did she think she’d get over him after becoming his wife and spending every night in his bed?
Paisley smoothed her bed head away from her face as she padded barefoot to the front door. From the silhouette she could make out through the etched glass, she knew exactly who stood on the other side.
Well, it took him long enough and he’d better be here groveling and down on his knees. Not that she’d take him back. She was going to be strong, stand her ground and not let anyone take advantage of her again.
But she wasn’t going to turn down an apology. Tears would help, too. At least she’d know she wasn’t in the land of misery alone.
Did he even cry? She’d never seen him show such emotions or anything really other than passion and greed.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d shown so much more, but right now, anger and pain fueled her thoughts.
The doorbell chimed again, followed by a knock.
“Tart, I know you’re in there.”
Damn that nickname.
Paisley flicked the lock on the door and swung it open. Taking in his rumpled hair, his wrinkled shirt that looked like it was from yesterday and the dark circles beneath his eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.