along with his, artwork she’d loved and bought, pieces of furniture she’d inherited from her parents. But everything she owned was in her flat in London, Levi’s stuff was here and they hadn’t had the chance to combine their lives and possessions.
Because she’d run...
“I like this room,” she said, ignoring his deep scowl.
“It’s not filled with priceless pieces of artwork like your childhood home but it’s okay.”
As auctioneers and fine art dealers, her family, going back generations, had amassed an incredible collection of art, most of which adorned the walls of the house in Beacon Hill. Her bedroom held a sketch by Degas and a watercolor by Georgia O’Keeffe.
She’d grown up surrounded by incredible art, textiles and ceramics, and had planned to follow her brothers into the family business at Murphy’s, joining the auction house’s PR and publicity department. But she hadn’t been back to Boston in years and hadn’t, not since her accident, been back to Murphy’s. She’d avoided it because it had once been her second home, a place she adored...
Murphy’s was the one place in Boston where she’d felt completely at ease and happy. She adored art, in all its forms, loved talking about it and promoting it, and being around people who loved it as much as she did. On every visit home, Tanna knew that if she stepped into Murphy International she’d start questioning her decision to become an EMT. So she avoided the family business. And, as much as she could, Boston.
Tanna sighed. “I should’ve just stayed in London,” she said, mostly to herself.
“I absolutely agree. Feel free to go back.”
She would if she could but that wasn’t possible until she had her PTSD symptoms under control. And who knew how hard she’d have to work or how long it would take her to achieve that goal? Tanna’s stomach clenched and the muscles in her neck contracted.
Relax, Tanna.
Concentrating on her breathing, she pushed away her negative thoughts.
She’d just hit a bad patch and she needed a little time to get her head sorted. Her accident had been a long time ago and she was fit and healthy. She was done being hostage to her fears. She liked emergency medicine, and the notion of helping others as she was once helped was important to her.
She owed those paramedics for saving her life—her heart had stopped twice en route to the hospital—and the only way she could show her gratitude for walking away from the crash with nothing more than a few scars was to pay it forward.
Unfortunately, paying that debt came with panic attacks, flashbacks and cold sweats. She just needed to control her reactions at work. She’d live with her PTSD symptoms if she could save lives. The symptoms wouldn’t, after all, kill her. Sometimes it just felt like they would.
They couldn’t sit here in silence, so Tanna attempted to initiate conversation. “I’m sorry about your dad, Levi. I know it happened years ago, but I’m still sorry.”
“As you said, it was a long time ago.”
Okay, then. She’d try again. “And I read somewhere your family sold your dad’s company when he died. It must’ve been difficult losing your dad and the company.”
“Not really.”
She hoped he was referring to the loss of the company and not his father’s death. The Levi she remembered was private and reticent but he’d never been a jerk.
“Is there a point to this inane conversation? Since you walked out on me, I didn’t think you particularly cared about my life. And I, in turn, don’t care how you’ve spent the last ten years, Tanna.”
“I’m an EMT.” Seeing the quick flash of surprise in his eyes, she blurted out a question and immediately regretted letting the words fly. “You didn’t, just once, ask my brothers where I was, what I was doing?”
“You bailed on me, bailed on the life we planned, so I didn’t feel the need to keep up with yours,” Levi shot back. So that was a no then.
“Sit down, say what you want to say and then leave.”
His casual order, and his expectation that he would be instantly obeyed, annoyed her. Unless she was at work being paid to take orders, she took umbrage at being told what to do.
Tanna took her time walking to a wingback chair, crossing her legs, making herself comfortable. Levi placed his plate on the arm of his own chair and picked up his sandwich. “Talk. Make it quick.”
Tanna stared down at her hands. She’d imagined this meeting so often, had practiced what to say, but now those carefully crafted words wouldn’t come. Seeing Levi’s impatience building, she forced them across her tongue. “I didn’t leave you at the altar, but it was close.”
“You left straight after the rehearsal dinner. A scant twenty-four hours before,” Levi said, dumping his hardly touched sandwich back onto the plate and putting it on the table. Tanna forced herself to meet his eyes, a deep blue that defied description. Sometimes they were cobalt, sometimes ink. Sometimes, like now, they held more than a touch of ice.
“I should not have left without talking to you, without a goodbye. Without an explanation.”
“No argument from me.”
“Levi, from the time we got engaged, I had my doubt—”
“Did I ask you for an explanation? Do I want one? I have a one-word answer...no.”
Well, okay then. Tanna wasn’t sure what came next, so she sat quietly, wondering how quickly he’d ask her to leave. The words were on his lips; she could see them hovering there. She needed to speak before he kicked her out.
“I was wrong, and I should’ve had the courage to face you, to explain. It was easier to run, to leave you that letter.”
“Yeah, after watching you fight to recover from your injuries, watching you learn to walk again, I was surprised by your lack of bravery. And decency.”
Ouch. Tanna felt the knife in her back, felt it turn. But she couldn’t argue with his statement. How she wished she could tell him the truth. That she couldn’t talk to him face-to-face before she left because if she had, she knew he would have brushed off her fears as prewedding jitters. He would’ve dismissed her concerns, persuaded her they were doing the right thing, and she would have listened. Then she’d have been miserable. And furious with herself for not standing up to him.
“My mom canceled the wedding, called everyone and returned the presents. Christmas was pretty crap that year.” Levi’s words drove the knife in deeper and harder. “But we did make headlines, day after day, week after week. All of us—me, my parents, your brothers and my sisters—lived with the press following us everywhere, shoving cameras into our faces, demanding an explanation, a comment, something. Yeah, best Christmas ever.”
Tanna winced. She’d asked about the press attention but Carrick told her not to worry about it and she hadn’t. Because she’d been trying to find a new life, a new normal, she’d done as he suggested.
“Maybe one day you will let me explain...”
“Don’t
