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“Tessa.”
I want nothing more than to go to him, press myself against him and fling my arms around his neck. Tell him everything that’s on my heart.
Slowly.I need to go slowly so as not to send him running off into the night.
“Hello, Rafe.”
“What are you doing here?”
My resolve falters. Is he not happy to see me?
And then I shake my head. Maybe after I tell him everything I’ve come to say, he’ll still stick to his resolve to have nothing to do with me. That having a family of his own is the last thing he wants.
But I can try. I can tell him everything I’m feeling, take the risk and reap the rewards or leave Rafe in my past knowing I did everything in my power to try.
“I…I forgot something.”
Ah, yes. The lamest excuse I could possibly come up with.
His brows draw together. “In the master suite?”
“Well…” My voice trails off as I take in the room beyond him. “Oh! It really turned out well, didn’t it?”
He glances over his shoulder. Then, at last, he opens the door wider and steps aside, gesturing for me to come in. I try to ignore the heat of his body as I pass by. I sweep a critical eye over the furnishings, the decor. It turned out even better than I anticipated.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
I glance at him over my shoulder. He’s watching me with an intensity that unsettles me. Momentarily knocks me off my course.
“I’m glad.”
“The paintings were a nice touch.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate. “I always saw you looking out. I thought after a long day, this might be a good place for you to come.”
He takes a step toward me. My breath freezes in my chest.
“I always commended myself on my powers of observation. But you have considerable skill of your own.”
“Thanks.” I try to force a smile, even as it feels as though a dozen birds are madly beating their wings against the inside of my rib cage. “An important skill for an interior designer.”
“You failed to notice one thing, however.”
I blink, unsure of what to say. “Oh?”
“You didn’t notice the most important thing that’s missing in here.”
My eyes roam around the room, trying and failing to think of what I missed.
“What?”
“You.”
Time stops. We stare at each other, hearts thudding, pulses pounding. I swear I can hear his from across the room.
And then we’re moving, crashing into each other as though it’s been years instead of a few weeks. His arms band about my waist. I release my grip on my crutches, slide my arms out of the cuffs and let them drop as I fling my arms around his neck and bury my face against his shoulder.