Paige reached out one hand to steady his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Was that concern he heard in her voice? It gave him hope and enough encouragement to rise unsteadily to his feet. “I think so.”
“Too bad.”
So much for her concern. The momentary dizziness passed and he wiped his hand across the sticky wetness on the back of his shirt. “What’s this?”
“Champagne. Dom Pérignon, 1992. A very good year.”
Too late Alex realized that Paige must be expecting someone. He’d glimpsed the intimate table setting for two just before he’d crashed into it. The candles. The champagne. Hell.
She was expecting a man.
Jealousy washed over him like a tidal wave. Just the thought of another man touching Paige made him want to grab her in his arms and stake his claim. Alex took a deep breath, then another, a little stunned by his visceral reaction to the fact that she was dating. Had he really expected her to wait for him? Especially when he’d given her no indication that he was coming back?
Yes.
His faith in Paige’s love had made it possible to endure the hell of the last year. He’d assumed she’d be angry. Hurt. Confused. But he’d never even considered the possibility that she’d move on to another man.
Which proved that he truly was an idiot. She was gorgeous. Then again, she’d always been beautiful to him. But now she was different. The shy, reserved Paige of his memory was gone. The woman before him now was full of fire. A kitten who had morphed into a hellcat.
But she was his hellcat. Alex would make that fact perfectly clear to any man who happened to walk through the door.
Paige took a step toward him, her brow furrowed. “You’re bleeding.”
He followed her gaze to the front of his gray T-shirt and saw a small red stain spreading in a circle on his chest. No doubt he’d landed on one of the slivers of glass on the floor.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said wryly. “It’s probably not serious.”
She met his gaze. “You might need stitches.”
Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he wadded it up into a ball then dabbed away the blood on his chest. “See? Nothing serious. You can barely see the cut.”
She wrenched her gaze up from his chest and cleared her throat, her cheeks flushed. “Good. Okay, well, you can leave now.”
He tossed the shirt aside. “You’re awfully eager to get rid of me. Afraid your date won’t like finding another man here alone with you?”
She blinked. “My what?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, how did you know where to find me?”
“This is where you live,” he replied, confused by her question. He probably had a concussion.
She shook her head. “Not anymore. I sold this apartment eleven months ago.”
Alex couldn’t believe it. She had fallen in love with this old place the moment she’d set eyes on it. He remembered the way she’d danced around the apartment when she’d given him a tour after making the down payment, almost giddy with excitement. The way she’d wanted to turn it into the perfect newlywed nest—a place for just the two of them.
But most of all, he remembered the hot kiss she’d given him on the balcony. The lushness of her body pressed into his own. Her soft whispers of love in his ear.
He sucked in a deep breath, the ache of those memories slicing deeper than the superficial cut on his chest. He’d been fooling himself that they’d be able to resume where they’d left off after he explained everything.
Well, not everything.
He planned to tell her just enough to make her understand. Enough to keep her from asking more questions—questions he couldn’t answer. But now he sensed it wasn’t going to be that easy.
That didn’t stop him from asking a question of his own. “If you sold the apartment, why are you here now?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
Jealousy flared up in him once more. Was she living with another man? He looked around the room. “This doesn’t look like your furniture.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” she replied, with no further explanation.
“So what is it doing here? What are you doing here, Paige?”
She picked up one of the chairs and set it upright on the floor. “If you must know, I’m leasing the place on a time-share basis—weekends only. I thought it would give me a chance to get away from everything.”
That did make sense. He’d met her mother. But his instincts told him there was still something she wasn’t telling him. A year ago, Alex would have pushed her for a clearer answer. Digging deeper. Always digging. Paige had mentioned once that she liked the way he always listened to her. She hadn’t realized that was his job.
Paige’s voice cut through his reverie. “So why are you here?”
“Because I want to explain why I left.”
“Don’t bother. There’s absolutely nothing you can say that will change anything.”
“Maybe not. But I’ll feel better.”
She arched a finely winged brow. “This may come as a shock, Alex, but making you feel better isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
She was bitter. He couldn’t blame her. But Paige deserved to know the truth. Needed to know the truth. At least, some of it.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he blurted, realizing too late he should have rehearsed what he was going to say to her. He’d certainly had long enough to do it. “Everything just got out of control.”
“You should have told me you were having second thoughts,” she said haltingly. “Instead, you just…left.”
“Under the circumstances, I thought that would be for the best.”
“Best for you, maybe. You didn’t have to announce to everybody that the wedding was off. You didn’t have to deal with the caterer or the reception hall or the band. You didn’t have to pretend your heart wasn’t broken….” She sucked in a deep breath, then tipped up her chin. “Don’t you see, Alex? You did more than dump me. You humiliated me.”
Her words hit him low in the gut. Wrenching. Twisting. He braced himself against the pain, knowing it was only going to get worse before the night was over. He glanced at the door, tempted to walk out. To let her think he’d just suffered a case of cold feet.
But that wasn’t the case. He’d waited a year for this moment. Marking off every day on the calendar until he could tell her what was in his heart.
Alex didn’t plan to waste another second.
