She was grateful to him in one way. He’d restored her belief that there were monogamous guys out there. And he’d absolutely built her sensual confidence. He’d made her believe she was attractive and sexy and that a gorgeous guy could want her—even if it was for only a little while. He’d even gotten her to believe that her “boring” tastes weren’t that boring to everyone.
But this was a holiday romance. A fling. They were supposed to walk away easily, and occasionally remember the other with a fond smile.
“I’m going to put this here.” She put the ring down on the grass. The diamond sparkled. “I’m not taking it. You have to take it.” She stood. “I have to get going. Can’t miss the train and plane and stuff.”
He stood, too.
The ring still lay on the ground between them.
“Pick it up,” she ordered.
He shook his head obstinately. “I have to get back to the hospital.”
“Eduardo, this is crazy.”
“It’s yours. I gave it to you.”
“I can’t accept it,” she argued. “It’s too precious for me to keep.”
“It’s all I have to give you.” He looked cross.
“Bullshit.” She swore, suddenly puffing like she’d been running a marathon in boggy sand. “You don’t have to give me anything.” And he’d refused to give her what she really wanted from him.
“I’m not taking it back.”
“Then it’ll lie there for someone to find. Some geek with a metal detector in three summers’ time.” She turned away and walked away.
In a second he was beside her. She glanced back and saw the stone glinting in the grass.
She walked a few
paces on, but it preyed on her mind. “You’re playing chicken with me.”
“I’m not going back to get it. If you want it to be safe, you have to go and get it.” He kept walking.
Her anxiety increased. “Are there magpies in the park?” She glanced up at the sky and then around them—people, people, people. Someone would find it.
She stopped on the path. Her heart racing, she stepped so she was right in front of him. She stretched up onto tiptoes and plucked away his sunglasses so she could see into his eyes. “Can you really walk away from something so precious?”
Unflinching, he solemnly held her gaze. “I told you I don’t have the same capacity for caring as most people.”
“Maybe not for things,” she conceded. As wealthy as he was, it was clear he wasn’t materialistic. “But you’re no ‘stony-hearted villain.’ You can care as much as I do. As anyone does.”
He laughed a little but slowly shook his head at the same time. “No.”
“You can and you do.” She frowned. “I’m sorry your parents aren’t supportive of you, that other women in your life have resented the time you put into your work. But you have choices, Eduardo. You choose.”
And he didn’t choose her. Of course he didn’t. But what was with the damned ring?
He took back his glasses from her loose fingers, then sidestepped to resume walking, his face impassive again. She didn’t believe he was that bland on the inside—but she didn’t know what it was he thought. Or felt.
She stopped walking.
“I can’t leave it there.” She turned and ran fast as she could, not checking to see if he followed.
When she got to the patch of flattened grass where they’d lain, the ring was there—waiting, safe, cold. She snatched it up and turned. He hadn’t followed, and now she ran back toward where she’d left him. Only as she neared the corner of the path, she slowed. Because he hadn’t waited for her.
He’d gone.
She turned a slow, full circle. People walked everywhere but none in those dark trousers, that pale blue shirt. He had—to quote Shakespeare—vanished into thin air.
She tightened her hand into a fist so tight the claws holding the diamond cut her palm. Blinking back the tears gathering in her eyes, she focused on breathing—calming, regular gulps. That was it? He couldn’t stay to say good-bye properly? Of course he couldn’t. And she couldn’t break through the scars that held him so emotionally bound. She wasn’t the one for him. Which broke her heart, when he so easily could have been the one for her.
She’d had the real fiancé and no ring. Now she had the real ring but no fiancé. It sucked.
Nina dragged in another deep breath and fought for perspective. He’d needed something nice this week because he was having a crap time at work—with all those patients he supposedly didn’t care about. So their affair wasn’t because he was that into her, he’d just needed the stress release—the emotional lightness. The fun. And okay, that was fine—fair enough. She’d wanted a fun fling—her first. A light summer love affair. And he’d delivered on that. Only he’d delivered so much more—and he’d made her fall for him. It had been so easy. And he knew, didn’t he? He knew and he felt bad and had tried to blame himself, it was easier than admitting he didn’t feel the same for her. And he wanted her to have something to make up for it?