Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(99)

She looked good last night. Much more sophisticated than she’d been at eighteen. And, he realized as he bought a bottle of pop at the general store, she’d lost most of her accent. He’d barely heard a trace of it while they spoke on the roof and in the hallway.

On the ferry ride back to Hatteras, he found his mood grow strangely heavy. The time was getting closer when he’d see her again so it didn’t really make sense that he was feeling more down as the minutes ticked by.

Except, wondering about Laire had kept him connected to her all these years, and their impending conversation had the potential to break that connection with answers once and for all. Perhaps he was fearful about what she had to say. She seemed to have so much animosity toward him. Had he inadvertently done something to hurt her? Something he’d never known about? He would hate himself if that was the case because losing her had been the greatest misery of his life. If he’d brought it on himself, he didn’t know how he’d forgive himself for it.

Arriving at the widow’s walk precisely at eight twenty, he had the roof to himself and decided to sit in one of the single chairs facing the fire pit instead of the couch where he’d been sitting last night. He didn’t want to watch her eyes choose to sit in a chair alone and not by his side. It would sound stupid if he articulated it, but that’s how he felt.

At eight thirty on the nose, the roof door opened, and Laire stepped into the quiet darkness. Erik looked at her over his shoulder, his heart swelling with so much emotion, he wasn’t sure how his chest could contain it. Until that moment, he didn’t realize how worried he’d been that she wouldn’t show up at all.

You’re here. You came.

She was dressed similarly to last night, except her hair was down and her face seemed softer and brighter somehow. She’d matured so much in the six years they’d been apart, from a girl to a woman, and he was almost speechless now as he beheld her, so beautiful in the moonlight, it hurt to look at her.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she said, moving toward him, her voice soft, and—if he wasn’t mistaken—slightly warmer than it had been yesterday and this morning.

She moved around his chair, to the couch across from him, and sat down on the edge. The flames of the small, modern fire pit between them flickered with her movement before stabilizing.

“You’re still beautiful,” he said, blurting out the words just before remembering how uncomfortable they used to make her.

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “Don’t do that.”

Some things don’t change.

He nodded in understanding. “Okay. So, uh, what are you doin’ now? I mean, besides bein’ a mom?”

Laire relaxed a little, sitting back and looking at him over the fire.

“I went to college. I have a degree in fashion design and merchandising. I work for a European designer in New York City.”

Erik stared at her, at a total loss for words, pride making him grin at her like a fool. She’d done it. She’d chased after her dream and made it happen. That’s where she’d been all these years, and it gave him a certain amount of satisfaction to learn it.

“You live in New York,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I still live in North Carolina.”

“You work remotely?”

She nodded. “I send up my designs via e-mail.”

“Wow. You did it. You’re a New York City designer.”

Then she did grin, just a little, in conjunction with a modest shrug, and even with her fancy clothes, he recognized his girl in that little movement, and it made him happy.

“I’m workin’ for my father’s law firm,” he said when she didn’t ask.

“I know,” she said, then quickly cringed, looking away from him and muttering a quiet “Damn it” under her breath.

“You know?”

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, still looking over the railing at the ocean, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“You kept tabs on me?” he asked, his heart throbbing with this knowledge.

“Not really,” she whispered. “Just a little.”

“I would’ve kept tabs on you too, darlin’, if I’d only known where to look.”

She turned to him, rubbing her eyes with exasperation before nailing him with a glare. “What is this?”

“Two friends catchin’ up?”

“We’re not friends, Erik,” she said. “We never were.”

“I disagree,” he said. “We were lots of things to each other, but I believe we were friends too.”

“And is that what you want now?” she snapped. “To suddenly revive an old friendship?”

He clenched his teeth together and swallowed the words he wanted to say: No, darlin’. I want to jump across this fiery barrier and pull you into my arms. I want to kiss you again the way I’ve dreamed for six long years. I want you to know that I still love you. I want you to tell me there’s still a chance for us. And then I want to carry you downstairs to my bed and make love to you the way we should have made love that night long ago.

He licked his lips. “I told you. I want to know why you broke up with me.”

She leaned all the way back into the cushions, grabbing a shearling blanket from the back of the couch and covering her body with it.