Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(72)

“You were honest.”

Robin stepped away from him for fear she would change her mind. Part of her was more than willing to be a stand-in for his dead wife, hoping against hope that he would eventually grow to love her, too. Quickly she changed her mind. The stakes were much too high.

Without another word, he reluctantly turned and left.

Surprisingly, after a few minutes Robin felt better than she had in days. Worlds better. The disappointment and frustration she’d carried on her shoulders was gone. She’d laid her cards on the table and it was a relief.

It couldn’t have been easy for Roy to seek her out. She admired him for the courage it had taken to come to her condo.

The doorbell chimed again and Robin opened it to find Libby with a take-out bag dangling from each hand. “I got us Italian.”

“I love Italian.”

“Me too, and I worked out this morning, and you didn’t,” Robin’s friend reminded her.

“I’ll be there Wednesday,” Robin said, and took one bag away from Libby.

“Hey, you’re looking much better.” Libby grinned as if she were solely responsible for the transformation.

“I feel better.” But she didn’t say why.

Opening a kitchen drawer, Robin removed two forks and handed the first one to Libby. They moved to the small kitchen table by the window. Robin had a view of the Seattle skyline. As she glanced out at the street she saw Roy standing on the corner across from her building. He had his hands in his pockets and he remained frozen, looking up at her floor. It was impossible for him to see her.

After a moment or two he removed his hand from his pocket, pressed his fingers to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

It was quite possibly the sweetest thing Robin had ever seen any man do. And he’d done it for her.

Phillip showed up at the gym right on time on Wednesday morning. Libby pretended not to notice, but to her surprise he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. Every time she glanced in his direction he was watching her. By the time she finished her workout, Libby’s mouth was dry and her heart was pounding. She knew this had nothing to do with her routine on the treadmill. Before Friday night she’d been desperate to make amends, if at all possible. But it hadn’t been as easy to eat crow as she’d imagined. She lacked both opportunity and courage.

Then after seeing him with Ms. Bimbo—that wasn’t fair; the other woman was stunning—Libby swallowed hard. His date had been lovely—in fact, she’d been perfect. Libby bet she wasn’t forced to work out in a gym five mornings a week in order to sweat off an extra ten pounds. Okay, she was being hard on herself; she was no more than three pounds heavier than she’d been when Hershel called her into his office.

Despite the fact that Phillip couldn’t take his eyes off her, he didn’t make an effort to talk to her. If this was his way of sending a message, then she was too much of a coward to act on it.

Then later that same morning, Phillip stopped off at the nursery. He had to know this was one of her days to volunteer.

He nonchalantly walked into the room, and picked up a chart as though he was there on official business. When he looked up, he pretended to be surprised to see Libby there.

She sat in the rocker, a sleeping infant in her arms, and met his gaze head-on, afraid her expression might give her away. Seeing him again gave her hope she could redeem herself and resuscitate their relationship.

“You really shouldn’t ever plan on being onstage,” she told him.

“Oh?”

“You’re a much better physician than you are an actor.”

“Really?”

It appeared the conversation on his end was limited to one-word replies.

“You knew I’d be here.”

“Did I?”

Okay, this was better. He was up to two words. “Yes.”

“Not necessarily.”

Okay, two could play this two-word reply game. “Why’s that?”

He set the chart down and stepped toward her, crossing his arms. “You seemed pretty upset about missing that job interview. From what I remember you blamed the babies.”

“No,” she corrected. “I blamed myself.” Libby hesitated and then rushed ahead, hoping to find the right words. “It shook me up pretty bad, blowing that interview. I was down on myself and I reacted impulsively. I … I do that sometimes, and then later I regret the things I say and do.” Her eyes widened with an appeal for understanding.

He held his ground for several moments before he spoke. “Regret, you say?”

Libby nodded. “Quite a bit of regret, if you must know.”

“I see.”

Undeterred, Libby plowed ahead. “I was wondering … hoping, really, if you’d forgive that outburst and pretend it never happened. The truth is, Phillip, I’ve missed you.”

He joined his hands behind his back, and then a slow, easy grin came into play. “Actually, I was hoping you’d come to your senses.”

Libby glanced down at the baby in her arms. “I don’t think you missed me nearly as much as I missed you.”

“Oh?”

Libby thought it was only fair to let him know she’d seen him with the Beauty Queen.

“I saw you on Friday,” she said. It was important that he know Libby had been out as well. She had social opportunities of her own and so she added, “I was out with … a friend myself.”