You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(81)
When he wasn’t trying to think of what to write to convince Curtis—or anyone—to listen to him.
After paying the bill, he practically ran to the car to get away from the funk he had left behind in the seats. He was in the car and had the motor running before Selina was even halfway across the parking lot. His tires squealed as he shifted into reverse and backed up.
It wasn’t until he’d pulled up next to her and realized she was standing perfectly still, her purse clutched against her chest, that it occurred to him it looked as if he was about to drive away on her and leave her there in the middle of nowhere.
The fact that he was acting like every other loser guy in her life startled him. Waiting until he’d cooled down wouldn’t cut it for Selina. He wasn’t being the kind of person he wanted to be for her.
He rolled down the window. “I’m sorry for being a dick. There’s no excuse for it.”
Still clearly shaken, she nodded and got in.
On the short drive through the town’s two stoplights, Marc took several deep breaths. He hadn’t meant what he’d said to Selina, but he didn’t know how to make her believe him. He liked his life organized and well planned, and he didn’t understand how she wasn’t freaked out by the sudden and massive turn her life just took. He’d gotten the change in his life that he’d worked years for, and still, here he was, obsessively checking his e-mail, trying to get the life he’d once had back. Maybe he couldn’t give up his project, but that wasn’t Selina’s fault.
When they hit a grocery store, he pulled into the lot and turned the car off. After the radio stopped, Selina’s silence pulsed through the inside of the car.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Yes, you said. Apology accepted.” She was saying the right words, but the lack of warmth in her tone smarted. Though her tone surely cut less than what he’d said to her. Besides, he wasn’t looking to win this argument or shake her until she understood how sorry he was. He wanted her to feel better because he liked her. Because he respected her. Because he really was sorry. And because what it was like being in her shoes was beyond anything he could imagine.
“Yes, I already said it, but I don’t think I said it well enough. I didn’t mean what I said, Selina. I promise. I lost control of my baby—I sold control of my baby—and this trip hasn’t helped me come to terms with that fact. But—” He stopped himself before he launched into more about his own frustrations. “But that’s not what’s important right now. It doesn’t matter why I said what I said. It doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you. And I’m sorry for that.”
Her entire body seemed to relax at once. He’d said the magic words, and even better, they were true. He’d meant every one of them.
“Thank you,” she said, turning her head to give him a slight smile. “I appreciate and accept your apology. It’s hard for me to understand how your life is causing you stress right now, but just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. And I know that stress can make even the best people say things they don’t mean.” She paused a beat. “And I think you’re one of the best people.”
They didn’t say much to each other on the drive back to the hotel, but at least there was no silence pushing down on the car.
Back in their room, he turned on the television for background noise while he applied for a job at the company that bought Terry—maybe it was a way to get back in. But he didn’t need the television for company. Selina, sitting on her bed flipping through her phone, provided that and more.
Chapter Eight
The buzz of the heater might as well have been a mosquito buzzing directly in Selina’s ears for all she was able to relax her mind and sleep. The highway noise couldn’t drown it out, though she was at least honest enough with herself to admit that the cars would be keeping her awake if the blowing air wasn’t already doing it.
She rolled over in bed, kicking at her sheet. No plan. Marc’s words knocked on her subconscious every time she got anywhere remotely near sleep. The problem wasn’t that he’d said the words—though they had hurt like a large, sharp needle. The problem was that they were true. Taking one class per semester at a community college and working at a diner until she could escape wasn’t a plan. It had been an existence, and she’d been lucky that Marc had been the one to walk into Babe’s Diner and give her this opportunity.
She sighed. That had been more of a plan than what she currently had, which was find a job and a place to live. But how? God, how would she do it in the week she had the use of Marc’s hotel room at the ski resort? She’d e-mailed her professor, both about her final assignment and the gallery, but that wasn’t really a plan, either. That was a shot in the dark.
She pushed the sheets down and sat up. She didn’t want to rely on Marc. They were both lost and wandering. If she asked—or even looked like she might need it—he would probably be willing to find a place in Salt Lake City—pestering his friend through texts and e-mail—and she could be adrift again, just in a bigger city. The jokes they had shared and the intimate conversations would become sore as they became the only thing holding each other up.
Resolved to make a plan past the week at the resort, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her phone, and tiptoed her way to the bathroom. Door shut and light on, Selina posted to Facebook that she needed a job and a room in Salt Lake City, starting immediately. Most of the people she knew from high school had gone to Spokane when they’d left for the “big city,” but a few had ended up in Salt Lake, and if they didn’t have any leads, maybe they knew someone who did. She texted Babe, too. Maybe Babe’s friend knew of something or someone that could help.