Page 71 of Running to You

“You sure saw her that day.”

He grabbed another garment and folded it, thankful for something to focus on besides Eliza.

“You don’t have anything to say to me?”

He set the folded T-shirt on the table. “You remember what happened after that?”

She blinked. “I walked out.”

“You ran out without a word. It’s just lucky I saw you or I would never have known you were there. I followed you. I left Kylee sitting there, alone, and I chased you.”

“What, do you want a medal? You cheated on me.”

“I didn’t.” But he couldn’t manage to hold her gaze. Because, yeah, he might not have cheated, but he couldn’t pretend it’d been nothing.

“Liar.”

He squared his shoulders. This was a conversation he’d had in his head a million times. It was good he was finally getting to have it for real. Even if it ended everything. “I never lied to you. Never. Was I having lunch with Kylee? Yes.”

“A business lunch. That’s what you told me.”

“And that’s what it was. A business lunch in the same restaurant where I had all my business lunches. If it’d been some clandestine meeting, would I have told you where I was going?” Not that he’d ever expected Eliza to show up, but the point was, it hadn’t been a secret. “She asked me to lunch because she wanted to talk about selling a division of her family’s corporation. Her brother was supposed to join us.”

“Convenient how you left out who you were meeting with. A potential client, you said.”

“You’d have been okay with me having lunch with Kylee?”

“You think I should have been?” Eliza’s voice was shrill. She took a breath, tempered it. “I saw you two together.”

“Fine. You were right. She had a thing for me. I never realized… The point is, that lunch was supposed to be with her and her brother, but Ken didn’t make it, and fine, she flirted with me.”

“She kissed you. And you kissed her back.”

He winced. He hadn’t realized Eliza had seen that. Hated that she had.

It hadn’t been anything. Certainly hadn’t meant anything. He’d been shocked when Kylee’s lips had met his and her hand had landed on his thigh. And yeah, he’d kissed her back. Because…she was beautiful. And she obviously had a thing for him. And yeah, he didn’t always think with his brain.

So he’d kissed her. For like a second. And then he’d backed away and tried to make a joke out of it. They were friends, and he didn’t want to ruin that. And he’d wanted her business. He’d still been hungry back then, trying to build his career. He’d wanted to laugh it off, get them past it, get to the close.

In retrospect, he should’ve reacted differently. Obviously.

“I did.” Sam took a few steps toward Eliza. He needed her to hear him now. He needed her to know the truth. He breathed through his frustration and lowered his voice, tried to make it gentle and warm. Believable. Because he wasn’t lying, but that might not matter to her. “That’s what I was guilty of, Eliza. Flirting and that one kiss, which I ended after a couple of seconds. That’s all it was. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m not making excuses, and it wasn’t okay. But that’s all it was.”

“And I was supposed to be okay with that?”

“You could’ve let me explain.” He spoke slowly, enunciating the words he’d been rehearsing for five years. “You could have cared about me enough to give me five minutes of your time. But you saw what you chose to see, and it was your excuse to leave. You were gone so fast there was nothing but swirling dust in your wake.”

“Don’t act like it was nothing, Sam.”

“I’m not saying it was nothing, Eliza.” He emphasized her name like she had his. “I’m saying it wasn’t everything. Or it didn’t have to be. I’m saying, if you’d given me time—”

“How could you possibly have defended your behavior?”

Anger churned, bubbled up. He spun, walked away. Clenched his fists. Tried to remember all the words he’d said in this phantom conversation in the past. That speech had been eloquent. Now, he ground out the raw truth. “You were going to leave me.”

“I loved you.” She sounded incredulous, which just made him angrier.

“Not that much, obviously.” On the other side of the table, he turned. Picked up a garment—a pair of silky underwear—and dropped it like it’d scorched his fingers.