Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(34)

“What you had with these women wasn’t an emotional connection, remember? Only a physical one.” This was another rationale of his. Presumably it was supposed to appease her. Clark closed his eyes. “I was wrong,” he said again.

“What excuse do you have for the same thing happening a second time?”

At f irst she didn’t think he was going to answer; when he did his voice was strained. It seemed to vibrate with pain, whether real or fabricated, she wasn’t sure.

“I was drunk. Drunk out of my mind. I had no idea what I was doing. If it makes any difference, you should know I didn’t even f ind her attractive.”

“It doesn’t,” Phoebe snapped. “That’s completely irrelevant.”

Clark lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

She so badly wanted to believe him, and yet she knew she couldn’t. “Being drunk doesn’t excuse that kind of behavior.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t, but maybe it’ll help you understand why it happened. I was weak and—”

“What guarantee do I have that you won’t be…weak again?”

Phoebe asked.

“Because it would kill me to hurt you this way. It won’t happen. I give you my word.”

“He means it, sweetie,” her mother said imploringly. “Listen to Clark. Every word is sincere. He couldn’t be more repentant. Let him have one more chance. That’s all he wants, all any of us want.”

Phoebe turned to Clark, meeting his eyes for the f irst time. He wore a woebegone look that would’ve softened the hardest heart. Despite everything, Phoebe found herself on the verge of surrender. She was about to capitulate when the waiter arrived with their meals. The relief she felt at being interrupted, at not agreeing to yet another chance, nearly overwhelmed her. Winning was vital to Clark; she couldn’t know whether he meant what he said or just needed to remain in control by persuading her to take him back.

Clark seemed to sense that her determination was f lagging because he reached for her hand, intertwining their f ingers. He held on to her while the waiter served them.

“Shall I order champagne?” he asked her. “Tell me we have something to celebrate.”

“Not yet,” she whispered.

Her mother leaned forward. “Phoebe, please. It would mean the world to Marlene and me if you and Clark were engaged again.”

As if on cue, Clark took the solitaire diamond engagement ring from his suit pocket and set it on the table next to her bowl. “I’ve carried it with me from the moment you dropped it off,” he confessed brokenly. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve looked at this diamond. I can’t lose you, Phoebe. I can’t. You’re everything to me.”

“Unless you’re drunk,” she added. She knew she sounded bitter and angry, but didn’t care.

“If it’ll help, I’ll quit drinking. You say the word and I swear I won’t touch another drop.”

Phoebe pulled her hand away. “Why would you do that?”

Clark enjoyed his drinks. To the best of her knowledge he rarely overindulged.

“If that’s the only way I can have you back, then I’ll give up alcohol for good.”

“Why are you trying so hard?” she demanded. She needed proof that this was more than his pride talking, more than his desire to be in control of their relationship. He blinked as though he didn’t understand the question. “You don’t know?” he asked softly. “You honestly don’t know?”

“Tell her,” Leanne urged. “Tell her what you told me.”

“I love you,” Clark stated emphatically. “It’s as simple as that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to raise our family together and when we’re old and gray, you’re the one I want at my side.”

A lump f illed her throat. No woman could listen to those words and not be affected. “I…I have to think.”

Clark’s gaze held hers, f illed with triumph at the f irst crack in her defenses. She suddenly realized it was what he needed, what he’d been hoping to achieve.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said.

“You’ll be right back?” her mother asked. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Reluctantly Clark slid out of the booth and she followed, leaving her raincoat behind. Taking her purse, she hurried across the restaurant to the restroom and quickly went in. Locking herself inside a stall, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

The f leeting look on Clark’s face just then. She’d seen it—that small display of satisfaction that he could manipulate her. He assumed he’d won her back…and he almost had. He’d almost done it, but now that she was away from his inf luence, away from her mother, cool reason returned.

Without questioning her own actions, Phoebe left the stall and hurried out of the restaurant. Thankfully there was a taxi parked at the curb. With rain beating down on her, she climbed in the backseat and gave the driver her work address. Not until she was several blocks away could she breathe easily again. She felt like someone who’d taken a wrong step, who’d lost her footing and faltered. Only now, safe from Clark, did she feel secure.