Natalie blinked. Once. Twice. Tried to discern if this was indeed her reality. “That’s it? After chasing me like crazy you’re just leaving? I’m not a challenge anymore?”
His broad shoulders braced, his eyes pained but his jaw resolute. “It’s not that at all. I’m not right for you, Natalie. I never was. I should have been honest with myself. I’m just not wired for being a part of a family lifestyle and routine.”
Natalie couldn’t speak, her throat was too clogged with emotion. She could only watch him scan the kitchen, his gaze pausing on Colby’s fish drawings that hung haphazardly on the fridge. Total quiet descended, pressing down on the room.
On her.
Finally, he looked back at her, his eyes full of guilt on top of that pain. “Look at what happened today with Colby getting lost. Who knows how long he could have been out if Miss Molly hadn’t alerted me?”
The self-recrimination in his voice tugged her forward a step. She reached to him, her hand shaking, her nerves still rattled. “I should have told you he’s an escape artist. I shouldn’t have expected you to be a mind reader.”
“Don’t make excuses for me.” He ignored her extended hand. “God knows, I can’t make an excuse for myself. I’m sorry, Natalie, so damn sorry.” He shook his head, seeming so distant now. His gaze turned inward, examining something she couldn’t see. “You deserve better and I’m going to step out of the way so you can have it.”
His words hurt, more than she would have expected, given how often she’d thought about how wrong they were for each other. Still, she’d dared to hope—he’d insisted she should. He’d made her live for more than the day. He’d renewed hope and confidence in her.
She was worth more than what he was giving her right now. He’d wanted her to take a risk, and now that she had done so, he was bailing.
Well, damn it, she wasn’t letting him go that easily. “That sounds like a cop-out excuse to me. I told you I don’t blame you. No one expects you to be an instant child expert in a few days. You’re selling yourself short and just giving up. Giving up on us, giving up on a chance at the family you were robbed of in your early years.” As she said the words, she found herself voicing the possibility in her he
art, too. Yes, she’d dared to hope maybe they could work this out into a future that promised more. “There’s a real possibility you could have that if you weren’t so willing to walk away.”
His jaw worked as he held her gaze for so long she thought he might actually have heard her. She could see the war in his eyes, see that he was moved. Then he tore his gaze from hers and looked away, shaking his head. “You’ve been hurt too much, Natalie. And your kids deserve better. I’m a techie, a man of facts and probabilities, so I can calculate odds. All that training tells me, in no uncertain terms, I’m just not worth the risk.”
Without meeting her gaze, he picked up his bags and walked out of her life.
* * *
Tension had been her constant companion since Max left four days ago. Her decision to call him out on running away still was the right one. Of that she felt certain.
Living with her parents’ disappointment in her had finally given her the strength to see that she was a good parent. That she could raise her kids on her own and do a damn good job of it. She wouldn’t settle for a man in her life who wasn’t ready to shoulder the normal fears that came with parenting. But knowing she’d made the right call didn’t do a damn thing to soothe the ache of missing Max.
Four days. It seemed like such a short amount of time.
And she missed him a helluva lot. Felt that longing in her chest, in the way her eyes absently, yet actively searched the parking lot for his rented SUV.
Even now, with Margie, she still found herself occasionally diverting her eyes from the yard. To the room where he’d spent so much time. To that other life she had glimpsed.
“I miss seeing Max around here.” Margie tossed the tennis ball to Lexie, who giggled as she half caught, then dropped it. The golden autumn sun provided just enough warmth to warrant a light jacket, even beneath the shade of the tree.
Miss Molly barked in excitement as Lexie scooped up the ball and tossed it with a strong pitch born of much practice at the game.
“Max and I are no longer an item. It was...a risk. That happens. Not every relationship turns into forever. Our lives are in different places,” Natalie said in a cool voice that made her seem much more collected than she felt. Miss Molly dropped the ball at Lexie’s pink sneakers.
Margie looked at her sidelong, that knowing expression in her keen eyes. “Your boyfriend has a private airplane. You’re never far out of reach.”
Boyfriend. What a surreal word. It sounded like a word of days gone by, a time of innocence before so much pain and loss. “Whatever he was, it’s over.”
Colby darted in front of them, the golden retriever close at his heels, tail wagging in delight. Her heart pulsed at the sight of her son’s smile. Lexie threw the ball back to Margie, catching the pup’s attention.
“Oh, sweetie, I know you too well. We’re your family now. That’s how this town works, making family connections out of strong friendships.” Margie took a turn at the game, lobbing the ball farther to give the dog more of a workout. “I guess that’s what makes this hacker’s attacks hurt all the more, since it means someone in our ‘family’ betrayed us. We all have secrets, so we’re all vulnerable.”
A gust of wind rustled the yellow and red leaves that peppered the still-green yard. The scent of pinecones and the distant scent of a bonfire carried on the wind. This small town offered her a haven. “Margie, I’m finding it tough to believe you have any dark secrets.”
A deep laugh shook the older woman’s shoulders. She tugged on the sleeve of her red-and-black-plaid shirt, eyes wide and kind. “Oh, honey, there are some, how shall we say it, boudoir photos I had made for my husband’s birthday about twenty years ago. I never could find the negatives when I went through his belongings after he passed away.”
“Oh, my.” Natalie couldn’t help grinning—and she also couldn’t help marveling at the way Margie managed to smile over memories of her dead husband, to even joke over going through his things.
“Exactly.” Margie let out a low, exaggerated sigh. “Every time I see a pink boa, I have twinges of fear of those pictures popping up.”