Take a Chance on Me(67)

His lips pressed together. What might have been anger flashed over his expression before a veil of calm slid over his features. “Pre-wedding jitters.”

“It wasn’t jitters.”

Flat blue eyes fixed on hers and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “This isn’t productive.”

Irritation jabbed like a knife in her stomach. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms. “How did you find me?”

“Is that important?”

“Ah yes, the credit cards.” Earl’s was the last place she’d used the card before it had been declined. She wanted to rage at the blatant manipulation, but didn’t see the point. He’d never admit it. She squared her shoulders. “I want my files back. I’ll ask Penelope to pick them up as soon as possible.”

He clasped his hands on the Formica table. “Did you expect me to not fight for you?”

Maddie looked away, staring fixedly at the framed nineteen-fifties advertisement for ice cream. “I don’t know what I expected. I only know this isn’t right.”

“It’s fine, Madeline. You’re being dramatic.”

“Steve, look at me.” She waited until he met her gaze before she continued. “I’m not fine. Please, I don’t want you here. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t I deserve a chance to talk to you?” There wasn’t one thing about him that looked out of sorts. He didn’t even have dark shadows under his eyes.

“Yes, you do.” Needing something to do with her hands, she grabbed a napkin. “We can talk when I get back, but not now. I need time to think.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re acting like this after everything I’ve done for you.”

She twisted the white paper around her fingers, tugging tightly. “What exactly have you done for me?”

He raised a brow. “You want a list?”

“No, forget it.” He didn’t understand. She wasn’t talking about taking care of her or picking up her dry cleaning. She was talking about her. She hugged herself, wishing for Mitch. “I was selfish and I’m sorry. That’s all I can say.”

“Let’s put it behind us.”

Stunned, she could only stare openmouthed at him. “Steve. Listen. I left you in the worst way possible and you’re not even asking why. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, why?”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

“Of course I care,” he said, his voice conveying the ultimate patience. “But I already know why.”

She could not believe this. “And tell me, what are my reasons?”

“You were nervous. Plain and simple. You would have been fine as soon as you walked down the aisle. You were stressed out and overwhelmed because of all the wedding details. As soon as we were married, all the pressure would have been off and everything would have been fine. If you’d only stopped to think it through, I’d be on a beach in Hawaii instead of being forced to chase you down at some crappy diner in the middle of nowhere.”

He didn’t know the first thing about her—not the real her. That had been her fault for letting things go for so long. She tore the napkin in two. “It was more than nerves. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating.”

“It was a panic attack. With your history, you should know that.”

She’d suffered the attacks the first year after the accident, and they weren’t the same as what she had gone through on her wedding day. “No, you’re wrong. And even if you’re not, I don’t think having a panic attack on your wedding day is a good sign.”

“It happens all the time,” he said, reasonably.

“Shouldn’t I have been happy?”

“You were fine until that day.”

“I wasn’t. Every day, my anxiety got worse.”

“If you were so distraught, why didn’t you talk to me?”

It was the million-dollar question. If only she hadn’t been so afraid, so worried about everyone else, she wouldn’t have gotten into this mess in the first place. She’d been wrong and she owed him the truth. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“I always listen to you.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s the point. You don’t.”

“Give me one example.” His lips formed a thin, hard line before he took a breath and seemed to visibly compose himself.

She could give him a hundred, but settled on the most compelling. “I told you I didn’t want to get married.”

“You needed a push,” Steve said, the first threads of irritation lacing his tone.

She started shredding the napkin. “I specifically told you I wasn’t ready. There were things I wanted to do, but you shrugged me off. You didn’t listen. You pacified my feelings, then proposed to me a month later in front of God and everyone at my aunt and uncle’s anniversary party. You called me up on a stage, got down on one knee, and gave a speech guaranteed to make every woman in the room cry.”

He shook his head, staring at her as though completely dumbfounded. “I gave you a memorable proposal that women live for. How is that wrong?”