Tangled (The Tangled Series)(72)

She takes my hand and stands up. Her arms go around my neck. And my hands rest at her waist—trying not to squeeze. Gently, we start to sway.

I swallow hard as her round, dark eyes look up at me without frustration or anger or hurt. They’re all warmth, like liquid chocolate. And my f*cking knees go weak. I trail my hand up her spine to the back of her head. She turns her cheek and lays her head on my chest. And I pull her against me even closer—tighter.

I’d like to tell you what it feels like. To hold her again. To have my arms wrapped around her, at last, and her body pressed against mine.

I’d like to, but I can’t.

Because there aren’t words—in English or any other language—that could even come close to describing it.

I inhale the sweet flowery scent of her hair. If the poison in the gas chamber smelled like Kate?

Every Death Row inmate would die with a smile on his face.

She doesn’t lift her head as she whispers, “Drew?”

“Mmmm?”

“I want you to know…I forgive you…for what you said that day in your office. I believe you, that you didn’t mean it.”

“Thank you.”

“And, in hindsight, I realize that I didn’t help the situation. I could’ve said something, given you…reassurance about how I felt…before I went to talk to Billy. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“I appreciate that.”

And then her voice changes—becomes lower.

Mournful.

“But it doesn’t change anything.”

My thumb sweeps back and forth across the bare skin of her neck. “Of course it does. It changes everything.”

She raises her head. “I can’t do this with you, Drew.”

“Yes, you can.”

She stares at my chest as she tries to explain. “I have goals. Aspirations. That I’ve worked hard for—sacrificed for.”

“And I want to watch you meet those goals, Kate. I want to help make your dreams come true. Every goddamn one.”

She looks up. And her eyes are begging now—for understanding. For mercy.

“When Billy broke up with me, I was sad. It hurt. But I was able to keep going. I didn’t miss a beat. This thing with you…it’s different. It’s…more. And I’m not too proud to admit that if it doesn’t work out, I’m not going to be able to just pick myself up and move on. You can…You could break me, Drew.”

“But I won’t.”

My hand moves to her cheek. And she leans into it.

“I know what it feels like to think I’ve lost you, Kate. And I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I’m a man who knows what he wants, remember? And I want you.”

She shakes her head slowly. “You want me tonight. But what about—”

“I want you tonight, and I’ll want you tomorrow and the next day. And ten thousand days after that. Didn’t you get the memo in the sky?”

“You might change your mind.”

“I might get struck by lightening. Or eaten by a shark. And both of those things are a hell of a lot more likely than a day ever coming when I won’t want you. Trust me.”

And I guess that’s the problem, isn’t it?

She stares at me for several moments, then her gaze falls to the floor. The song ends. And she starts to pull away. “I’m sorry, Drew. I just…can’t.”

I try to hold on. Like a drowning man gripping a life preserver.

“Kate…”

“I should go.”

No no no no no. I’m losing her.

“Don’t do this.”

Her eyes harden like molten lava when it cools to black rock. “Your time’s almost up. This was lovely. But…”

This is not f*cking happening. It’s like watching your receiver fumble the ball when you’re up by three with twenty seconds left on the clock. She turns toward the door. But I grab her arm and force her to look at me. My voice sounds desperate. Because I am.

“Just hold on. You can’t go yet. There’s one more thing I have to show you. Give me ten more minutes. Please, Kate.”

Look at her face. Right now.

She wants to stay. No—she wants me to convince her to stay. To give her a reason to believe in me again. And if this doesn’t do it, nothing on God’s green earth ever will.

“Okay, Drew. Ten more minutes.”

The breath rushes out of me. “Thank you.”

I let go of her arm, grab a black silk scarf off the chair and hold it up. “You can’t take this off until I tell you, okay?”

Suspicion washes over her face. “Is this some kind of weird sex thing?”

I chuckle. “No. But I like the way you think.”

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling right before I cover them with the scarf, and the world as she knows it fades to black.





Chapter 27

EVERY NEW ASSOCIATE at Evans, Reinhart and Fisher gets to redecorate his or her office. We’re not the only firm with this kind of policy. It’s good business. Makes employees feel comfortable, like a piece of the company belongs to them. The choices of paint colors and furniture patterns aren’t unlimited—but at a firm like ours, the pallet is pretty vast. That’s how I got my inspiration. How I was able to figure out what Kate prefers.