Moonlight Over Manhattan(24)

There was a pause.

“I—I don’t think that’s a g-g-g—” She broke off, visibly dismayed.

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t a big deal. He almost finished her sentence but then remembered his old girlfriend telling him it was the worst thing you could do for someone who stammered.

So he stayed silent and waited. Listened.

When it came to clearing up the mess left by a dog he’d lost his cool, but with this he had endless patience.

There was a tense silence.

Still he waited. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Saw her draw in a breath and brace herself to try again, like a swimmer about to plunge into deep water that had already tried to drown her once.

“—sensible.” She changed the word and it came out smoothly, but he didn’t see relief in her eyes. He saw embarrassment.

“I’ve made you nervous because I barked at you.” He wondered whether to be blunt or tactful. He went with blunt. “You stammered, and I’m guessing that was because of me.” The deepening color in her cheeks told him he was right. “You mostly have it under control, is that right? And then I walked in here with my big mouth and my insensitive ways and it came back.”

There was a pause and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to reply.

“Y-yes.”

Knowing that made him feel almost as bad as she did.

“Why? What is it about me that triggered it?”

“You were angry. I’m not g-g-g—” She stopped, frustration in her eyes.

He could feel her agony. He witnessed people’s agony daily, but witnessing it and being the cause of it were two different things. This time he was feeling it with her and it was a profoundly uncomfortable experience. Clearly he wasn’t as emotionally numbed as he’d thought. He had his usual urge to fix it, but this time he wasn’t dealing with blood or broken bones. He’d inflicted damage for which there was no easy fix.

She took another couple of breaths and tried again. “Angry people upset me.” She stooped to pick up her bag, stuffing everything back inside. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters, and not just because you’re going to be helping me with Madi. We’re going to figure this out.”

“I c-c-c—” She closed her eyes briefly. “Can’t work with you.”

He felt a flash of concern.

If Harriet refused to help him then he was in serious trouble.

“I handled the situation badly. I’m sorry and I want us to start again. You weren’t mad with Madi when she destroyed my apartment. You understood that there was something going on underneath. That she was upset.” On impulse, he dropped into a crouch and held out his hand to Madi. “Come here, girl.”

The dog looked at him warily and he couldn’t exactly blame her.

Obviously deciding his contrition was genuine, she trotted across to him.

He stroked his hand over her head, feeling silken fur under his palm. “Good girl. Lovely girl. Most beautiful dog in the world.” Madi sat down and looked at him. Ethan looked at Harriet. “If she’s ready to give me another chance, surely you can too?”

Harriet straightened and slid her bag onto her shoulder. “That’s a low trick, Dr.—”

“Ethan.” He said it softly. “My name is Ethan. And it’s not a trick. Stay for dinner. Dinner and one conversation. That’s all I’m asking.”





CHAPTER SEVEN


DINNER?

It had taken all her willpower to bring Madi back to the apartment. Given the choice, she would have taken the dog straight home. Then she would have called Debra and suggested that her brother, no matter how skilled he was in the hospital setting, wasn’t good with animals.

But she knew, deep down, that her prime reason for doing it wouldn’t have been about Madi. It would have been about her.

She’d stammered. Not only that, instead of standing her ground and using all the strategies she’d learned as a child, she’d run away. That depressed her almost as much as the knowledge that she’d retreated when she should have advanced.

Ethan Black was still waiting for her answer. “I understand your dilemma. I’m the cause of your stammer, so why would you stay? But, Harriet, that’s on me. I’m the one with the issue here, not you.”

He didn’t get it. And why would he? This was huge.

She felt as if she’d regressed fifteen years. Was this a one-off? Would it keep happening now? Would she be unable to speak without worrying if the words were going to come out the way she wanted them to? Would it be like school, when there were times when she’d only spoken if she absolutely had to?

She was desperate to call her twin and talk it through, but that wasn’t an option. She couldn’t tell her sister that she wanted to be independent one minute, and then call her in hysterics the next.

She had to find a way through this. But how, when the feeling of panic was a tight ball in the center of her chest?

And she realized with a flash of insight that the “challenges” she’d been setting herself hadn’t really been challenges at all. Where was the challenge in walking in high heels? Who even cared if she could walk in high heels?

This was the challenge. Staying where she was, when all she wanted to do was leave.