He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head back. Rubbed a hand over his face. Then said, “Hold on.”
He disappeared into the crowd, giving Faith time to breathe. Time to process his sudden return. She hadn’t known whether he would be coming back to town or not. And she’d made peace with their good-bye.
But now her guts were churning again. Her heart aching again. She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t have to do this.
And the fact was…she didn’t have to do this.
Faith pushed all her papers into a pile and grabbed the laptop. But before she could stand, he was back with a chair. He dropped it opposite her booth seat, and gently pulled her things from her arms, setting them on the table.
“I’m in the middle of something here.” Hold onto the anger. Hold onto the anger. If she didn’t, she’d cave. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.”
He laughed. It was a tired, you-are-so-freaking-adorable laugh. “Man, I missed you.” He leaned forward, and took her hands. “That had to be the longest thirty-six hours of my ever-loving life.”
“Stop it.” She jerked her hands back. God, she wasn’t going to make it through this day intact. She was ready to shatter into a million pieces. “This isn’t DC, and I’m not one of those women you can just drop in to fuck when it suits you.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she darted a look around. A few curious stares turned their way and her face flared with heat.
“Whoa...” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Faith, where did that come from? Why would you—?”
“I watched the tree lighting on television, Grant. Did you want me to see you with her? Is that why you asked me to watch it? Is this some bizarre game to boost your ego?” She couldn’t do this. She was going to snap. “I said good-bye, Grant. And I meant it.”
“I know. And, like an idiot, I didn’t realize that until just a few hours ago.”
She scowled in confusion. God she was tired—tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of hurting. “What? No, don’t answer that.” She pushed to her feet, but his chair blocked her path. “Please move.”
He sat back in the chair, slumping a little, a look of disappointed shock on his handsome face. “Are you really going to just walk away without letting me explain? You see a few seconds of film and you’ve already got me in bed with another woman? You don’t think you know me better than that?”
Now they were drawing more curious eyes. Faith sat back down and forced her voice low. “I know your history, Grant. And I saw you with an ex-lover hanging on you the day after you left me—“
“Baby, I didn’t leave you—“
“What do you expect me to think?”
“Okay.” He put up his hands. “You are one hundred percent right about my history. And you did see Bridgette sneak into the ceremony and make a move.” He shrugged and his expression darkened. “So is that it for you? You don’t care enough about me—or us—to at least give me a chance to clear this up?”
She pressed her elbow to the table and dropped her head into her hand, trying to get rid of the tears before they fell. “Grant, don’t,” she begged. “It was so good. I don’t want it to end like this.”
His big hand cupped her cheek. He leaned close, his voice a heavy, urgent rasp. “I don’t want it to end at all.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back. “I already told you—“
“I don’t want anyone but you. I didn’t even ask Bridgette to be at the event, let alone hang on me. You can ask my agent—he set Bridgette up as my date for the parties before and after, because he didn’t know I was seeing you. She wasn’t supposed to be at the event. That’s why she showed up at the very end and was only there for a few minutes. Ask the other guys that were there.”
“They’d all lie for you. I’m not stupid.”
“Then ask Bridgette. She’s royally pissed at me for losing interest. She’d be glad to tell you my every flaw.”
His explanation—even if it wasn’t true, though she was starting to think it might be, because why would he have come all this way when he had Bridgette willing to bang him in DC?—mollified the edge off her anger.
And they sat there a long moment, staring at each other, his eyes begging, her ears smoking.
“I was waiting for the President to get to the reception,” he finally said, “so I could take a damn picture with him and go home, when I rea
lized that while I was saying good-bye for the day, you were saying good-bye for good.”
He suddenly seemed vulnerable in a way she’d never imagined this big strong hockey player could.
Her throat thickened with emotion, but there was still too much gray space between truth and fiction. “Seemed like the right time. It was inevitable, and I didn’t see the point in dragging it out.”