Finding Isadora(75)

“I do.” Tentatively I reached out to touch his hand. “I truly am sorry.”

He jerked his away and we sat in silence for several minutes. I toyed with my mug but didn’t attempt to lift it, my hands were shaking too badly.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Richard. This is all my fault. I should have figured things out earlier, but…”

“Yeah, you damn well should have, and I wish—” He broke off abruptly. “Oh, just f*ck it. There’s no point talking. You’ve made up your mind and I’m not going to change it. I don’t want to change it. I don’t know you any more.”

I believed him. I felt as if I didn’t know myself either.

Across the table, his face was a mask, hiding his feelings. Any moment now he’d stand up and stalk out of the restaurant.

But he didn’t. He remained sitting, staring across the room, though I guessed he saw nothing but his own thoughts. He was sifting through the information, analyzing it, deciding on his course of action. How well I knew this man. The thing I didn’t know was whether I should say something. Were there any words that could possibly make things better?

Unshed tears burned, demanding release, but I refused to let myself cry. It would embarrass Richard, maybe annoy him. He’d think I was using tears to soften him. I bit my lip and stared down at my hands, which circled my now-cool mug of chai tea.

The waiter came by and said, rather anxiously, “Help yourselves to the buffet when you’re ready.”

Richard’s gaze jerked to him, and he nodded. Then, when the waiter had gone, Richard let out a lengthy sigh and finally met my eyes. “I suppose I should appreciate your honesty,” he said grudgingly. “Better to find out now than later.”

“Are you all right?”

He snorted. “Stupid question.”

I gazed at him wordlessly.

“God, Iz, I never saw this coming. I thought we were happy. We were going to move in together.”

“We were. This isn’t about anything you did. You’re a terrific man. And I, uh, I really hope we can still be friends.”

“Oh, there it is, the infamous death knell. You want to go from sleeping with me to being platonic friends?” He spat the words out sarcastically. “Frankly, Iz, I don’t think I can do that. I don’t want to.”

“I understand. I know I’ve shocked you, and hurt you, but … I c-can’t…” I broke off, swallowed hard, and tried again. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“You’re not losing me, you’re throwing me away.”

Avoiding his bitter gaze, I retrieved my purse from under the table and took out the two little jewelry boxes that contained my engagement ring and the diamond studs he’d given me. When I held them out, he didn’t make a move to take them from me, so I put them on the table in front of him. He stared down at them for a long time.

When he lifted his head, I expected him to look angry or hurt. Instead, his expression was rueful. “Diamonds aren’t your thing, are they?”

Slowly, I shook my head.

“I should’ve seen that.” He shook his head. “I should have seen a lot of things. Like the fact that you weren’t happy.”

“I—” About to say I had been happy, I realized how ridiculous that would sound to him, so I cut the words off, unspoken. “You’ll find another woman,” I said softly. “A really special one, because that’s what you deserve.”

He fingered one of the tiny boxes. “And maybe I’ll pay more attention. Like to what kind of jewelry she prefers.”

His mood had softened. I didn’t sense anger any more, only a pensive, reflective kind of regret. Hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck, I said, “A female friend like me could help you figure things like that out.”

His lips curved a millimeter. “You don’t intend to give up, do you?” he asked gruffly.

I shook my head vigorously. “No. I won’t give up on this friendship. You mean too much to me.”

“Can you understand how damned confusing that is for me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

He studied the boxes again, for a long time. Then, in a quick gesture, he swept them off the table and into a jacket pocket.

He raised his head and gazed across the table at me. Assessingly.

I squirmed. “What?”

“Maybe I’ll try it,” he said softly. “Being friends. If I can get past the bruised ego. I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Can we start tonight?”

He shook his head firmly. “Too soon.”

“I guess.” But I had a horrible feeling that, if we didn’t start the transition to friendship tonight, we never would. The gap between us would widen until we were the kind of acquaintances who nodded when they passed on the street, but didn’t stop to speak.

“When you came in,” I said softly, “you said there was lots you wanted to tell me, and I’d really like to hear it.”

He studied me some more. “And I wanted to talk about it. Damn. If I don’t tell you, I have no-one else to tell. No-one who’d care.”

“Then tell me, Richard. Because I do care.”

I waited, and after a few more long moments, he said, “Oh, hell. There are a dozen reasons why I should walk out, but I’m not going to.” He gave a ragged chuckle. “Besides, I’ll starve to death if I don’t eat soon. I skipped breakfast and worked through lunch.”