heart ached as the words came out of his mouth. Dear, sweet Lila was the most precious thing in the world to him. He still couldn’t fathom how Elle had walked out on her, except that he’d witnessed it—the desperate look in Elle’s eyes that told him she was equally horrified by her own distaste of motherhood. She didn’t want to be a mom, never had, and Marcus had talked her into it. With their other problems, the fights, he’d thought for sure parenthood would save them, would save her. Quite the opposite had happened. It had been the final, wretched straw. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t pretend. Freedom was all she longed for, away from England, her father and the expectations that had been foisted on her from a young age. Away from all of them. Away.
“Surely you’re interested in Ashley. That kiss is awfully convincing.”
How did Joanna talk him into these circles? “She’s very pretty. I won’t deny that. But she’s wrong for me, just like Elle was, and I can’t make the same mistake twice. I need solid. Reliable. Sensible. Ashley is none of those things.”
“Please promise me you will never, ever set up a profile on an online dating site saying you’re looking for a solid, reliable woman. You’ll end up with an incredibly loyal lumberjack.” She took the seat next to his, reaching over and touching his arm with the tips of her fingers. “Marcus. I want you to be happy. God knows you deserve it. Please just ask Ashley out to dinner. Thank her for the nice thing she did for our business. It’s not a big deal.”
Everything in Joanna’s voice said how much she pitied him, and he hated that. Part of him wanted to ask Ashley out, try again, at least apologize for last night. The rest of him was certain he didn’t have time to spend on a date with a woman he’d never end up with. And that was assuming a lot. Ashley had every right to want his head on a platter. “She’ll probably say no.”
“You won’t know until you ask.”
His mind flew back to last night—the look on Ashley’s face when he’d left her alone in her apartment. “No, I’m certain the answer will be no.”
Ashley stepped off the elevator and came to a stop. Normally she’d head straight for her apartment on the right-hand side of the vestibule. Marcus’s door was directly opposite. The two were separated by a thirty-foot expanse of the finest marble floor, a fussy old chandelier and a sea of differing opinions.
I promised Grace. If she was going to ask him to dinner, she should probably do it in person. Calling or texting from across the hall seemed juvenile. She was a grown woman, for God’s sake. A grown woman did what she needed to do, no regrets, no second thoughts about rejection. Still, she was drawn to the idea of going home. It would take a lot to prop up her busted confidence after last night.
She inched closer to his door, casually leaning in, craning her neck to see if she could hear what might be going on in there. It was dead quiet, of course. Marcus loved his calm and quiet. She raised her hand to knock but stopped herself. It was after seven. Maybe this was a bad time. Maybe it was Lila’s bedtime. Or her bath time. Or story time. Not that Ashley would know anything about Lila or her routine—Marcus had kept the most precious thing in his life, the reason he couldn’t or wouldn’t take Ashley seriously, as far away from her as possible.
Ashley did an abrupt about-face. Her purse went flying, as did her metal travel coffee mug, which clattered and clanged across the marble floor. She shushed the damn thing as it noisily collided with the wall. She scrambled to collect her things, then rushed to her door. She was shoving her key into the lock when she heard Marcus’s door behind her.
“Ashley?” he asked.
She froze. Her shoulders rose to her ears. Why did that have to be his effect on her? Why did his voice make her behave like a smitten idiot?
“I heard a noise.”
“Marcus. Funny running into you.” She turned, and his presence hit her like a tidal wave. She was still so hurt from last night, and seeing him felt as though she’d scraped a fresh wound. The problem was that her inclination was to fold herself into those arms of his, not run away and hide, even when he’d had the gall to suggest last night that feelings like that for him were foolish.
“Is it? Funny, I mean? We do live across the hall from each other.”
She shook her head, trying to wrench her thoughts away from the kissing variety. How she wanted to kiss him again. Just one more time. Just so she knew it hadn’t really been that amazing. It was her womanly due diligence. One ordinary kiss and she’d know it was okay to walk away from Marcus Chambers. “It’s been a long day, Marcus.”
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. With his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, the move only served to torment her with his muscled forearms. “Oh. Sure. I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure I extended a proper thank-you for last night. That’s all.” He closed his eyes for an instant. Was it actually painful for him to grant her a single gracious thought?
Thank me for what? The party? Or the part where you told me how wrong we are for each other, only after we got naked together? She nearly clamped her hand over her own mouth to keep the words from coming out. Regardless of how she felt about last night, trying to dish it back to him would only make things worse. She’d have to ask him to dinner some other time. A decade of waiting seemed about right. It simply hurt too much right now. “You’re welcome.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay, then. Good night.”
“Night.” Bastard. She rushed to her door and collapsed against it when she was inside. A strong smell of varnish hit her nose, but apartment renovations were the last thing on her mind. She never should’ve invited Marcus to the premiere. Things weren’t merely strained between them now. They were stupid.
She padded back to her bedroom, which felt like returning to the scene of the crime. If things hadn’t been in such disarray in the living room, she would’ve slept on the sofa last night just so she wouldn’t have to smell Marcus on the pillows. She kicked off her heels, rubbing her tired feet and ankles, then slipped out of her skirt and blouse and dressed in yoga pants and a tank top. Finally. A tiny measure of comfort.
Her stomach growled. No big surprise considering she’d scarfed a protein bar at two that afternoon and eaten nothing else. She’d had a ridiculously busy day, just like she did every day. She longed to slam on the brakes, just for a few days, but there was no stopping the Manhattan Matchmaker train. Not now. Not when the network was seriously considering First Date in Flight, a crazy idea Ashley had for a show where couples would have their first date on a cross-country flight. Not when she had a massive online dating site asking her to do commercials for them. She had to strike while the iron was hot. Her kind of good fortune was never long-lived, and she wasn’t about to let her family down, ever. Nor was she about to let down Grace, which meant she still had to find a way to get Marcus to dinner.
She ate cold leftover lo mein straight from the carton. The kitchen was progressing nicely with gorgeous white custom cabinets and a gray quartz countertop. The white glass tile backsplash was installed, but there was still wiring hanging out of the outlet junction boxes. For today at least, her apartment was moving forward. No complaints from Marcus. Tiny victories. She’d have to take them.
She tossed the takeout container into the trash, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and retreated to her bedroom. Climbing into bed, she made a point of putting the television remote out of reach. According to the clock
