he just standing outside her apartment like some kind of crazy man?
He was crazy.
She’d texted him earlier that day and asked what he wanted her to do with his things. He couldn’t really recall what he had at her place, other than his running gear and ear buds and maybe a few odds and ends, some clothes. Maybe, instead of saying he’d stop by and pick up his things, he should have told her to just keep it all.
But that still left him with having to deal with her belongings. She’d had some toiletries in his bathroom and some clothes that he’d boxed up. So, tonight, he’d kill two birds with one stone. Or something like that. Because he’d stripped his place of all physical reminders of Savannah and taped them inside the box. Out of sight, out of mind.
Not really—forgetting Savannah would come with time.
As he’d been driving to her place, the night he’d told Savannah about his new job kept replaying through his mind. Over and over.
She’d been so happy when she’d met him at the door, had told him she had good news. Good news she’d never gotten to share because he’d told his news first and all hell had broken loose.
She hated him. He saw it in her eyes on the rare occasion when their eyes met at the hospital. She no longer wanted anything to do with him.
Mission accomplished.
Earlier that day he’d run into her and gotten a good look. She’d been abrupt, to the point, immediately launching into a report about one of his patients. Darkness had shadowed her eyes. Her face had been devoid of the happy sparkle that had always shone so brightly. She’d looked so completely opposite to how she’d been a month ago that her greeting him at the door, her smile, her giddiness, the warmth of her kiss and hug, had played on repeat in his head.
What had caused her such joy a month ago?
Him? Yes, they had had a good relationship, but only because he’d never had any expectations of her, had never made any promises that he’d live to break.
Hand poised at the door, he closed his eyes.
He couldn’t do this. He didn’t feel up to being the jerk he needed to be. He needed her to keep hating him, to move on. Instead, he just wanted to ask her what her good news had been, to see joy in her eyes.
He could never do either. He came with too much baggage, too much risk.
What if he pushed Savannah as far as he’d pushed his mother? What if the same type of thing happened?
He turned to go.
* * *
Fighting the urge to slam the apartment door she’d just opened back shut, Savannah stared at the man in the hallway with his back to her. At the sound of the door opening, he turned toward her. His eyes were full of raw emotion and she thought she should definitely slam the door and bolt it closed.
“My neighbor called and told me you were loitering in the hallway,” she said as explanation for why she’d opened the door since he hadn’t knocked. “She wanted to know if she should call the police.”
“What did you tell her?”
“To call them,” she said, even though they both knew it wasn’t true. “That I hoped they’d lock you up and throw away the key.”
“I thought that might have been your answer.”
She raised an eyebrow and waited. Just as he could wait if he thought she was going to invite him into her apartment. She wasn’t.
She’d been nauseated most of the day, but had made the mistake of eating dinner anyway because she knew she needed to eat to keep the baby healthy. Her grilled cheese wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. Charlie showing up at her apartment wasn’t helping.
“You looked as if you weren’t feeling well when I was at the hospital earlier,” he pointed out as if this was breaking news.
“It’s been a long month,” she said, a mixture of adrenaline and exhaustion tugging at her body.
She was showing the patience of a saint by not screaming and yelling. She’d like to scream and yell. But, really, what good would that do? He was leaving. But, way beyond that, he’d pretty much put her in her place when she’d said he should have discussed such a big decision with her. That place hadn’t been beside him or as someone who had any importance in his life.
That knowledge kept her in the middle of her doorway, staring at a man she’d once thought she’d spend her life growing old with.
“Are you just going to stand there not saying anything?” she asked, injecting as much annoyance as she could muster into her voice.
Glancing down the hallway as if he half expected the police to really show up, he shifted the box he held and raked his fingers through his dark hair. “I brought your stuff.”
Her fingers itched to smooth out the ruffled tufts of thick hair left in the wake of his frustration, but she stayed them by tucking her hands into the pockets of her nursing scrubs.
“Fine,” she huffed, not moving out of the doorway, almost afraid to move for fear of jostling where her dinner precariously sat in her belly. “Set it down there and I’ll get your stuff so you can leave.”
“I was leaving. You opened the door.”
His frustration was palpable and had her shaking her head.
“You’d been in my hallway long enough that Mrs. Henry was having a conniption.”
“She always was nosy.”
“I thought you liked her.”
“I did.” He raked his fingers through his hair again. “I do.”
Savannah winced. Two little words she’d once thought she’d hear him say, but under very different circumstances.
Unable to bear looking at him a moment longer, she turned away, put her hand to her lips to stay anything that might be going to come out.
“Are you okay?” he asked from behind her.
She gritted her teeth to keep from verbally attacking him. No need to have Mrs. Henry calling the police for real.
“I’m fabulous,” she lied.
You could mend a broken heart back together, but it was never the same. She’d never be the same or look at Charlie the same.
That magic giddy bubble was popped forever.
She’d trusted in his feelings implicitly and he’d shattered that trust. He’d unilaterally made a decision that had torn apart what she’d thought had been a permanent relationship and he’d not had remorse or guilt or a sense that he should have talked with her first. Her complete misjudgment of that meant she would never allow herself to trust in her own feelings again. Not with Charlie or any other man. How could she when she’d been so completely wrong about Charlie?
Exhaustion gripped her body, making
