Page 34 of Solo

“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “Did you need something else?”

“I—uh—I just wanted to apologize, Dr. Markham. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

I can only glare at her, our short-lived thaw replaced with that familiar sense of irritation. She speaks again before I have a chance.

“I—um—I think I’ll go back upstairs and lie down for a bit, Dr. Markham,” she says, her voice tight and small, like she’s trying not to cry.

Oh, hell…

“Miss Brenner…” But I’m too late. She’s out of the kitchen. I move quickly to catch her in the den, but she’s already a blur of white cotton shirt and long dark hair on the staircase.

Chapter Fifteen

Kate

How could I be so stupid? Why on earth had I let myself get comfortable enough to tell him about myself? And why, for God’s sake, did I have to go and bring up his ex-girlfriend? Fiancée. Whatever.

When I get to the master bedroom, I close the door behind me as quietly as I can and contemplate locking it. No, that’s just stupid. It’s his house. Besides, it’s not as if he’s going to come up here after me. He’s probably grateful for the break from me.

It isn’t until I take a long, shaky breath that the tears start to fall down my cheeks. I go into the bathroom and shut that door before walking to the shelf that holds a stack of clean towels. I take one and push my face into it, allowing the plush cotton to swallow my sobs as they rise from within my chest.

My rational mind tells me that I’m overly emotional because I’m exhausted and weak. My irrational mind tells me that I have conflicting feelings about him.

He hates me. But then he took care of me. And now he hates me again. And why do I care anyway? Another wail escapes my lips and I sink down until I’m sitting on the cold tile floor, my back against the vanity. My arms come around to hug my legs and I rest my face on my knees. I wish that I could just sink right into the earth. But I’m not that lucky.

“Miss Brenner?” comes the muffled voice from inside the bedroom.

Oh no… Really?

I try to stifle my crying, but I can’t. He knocks on the bathroom door. I don’t answer. I’m certain he can hear me, but I don’t know how to stop, and I just don’t give a damn anymore. What’s he going to do? Laugh at me? Yell at me? Fail me?

I hear something against the door. Like he’s sliding down next to it onto the floor.

“Miss Brenner?”

The direction of his muffled words confirm my suspicion about his position.

“I—I’ll be out in a sec,” I manage to say in a small, shaky voice.

“May I please come in and talk to you?”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

“Please?”

Well, shit, it’s his bathroom. I can’t exactly keep him out, can I?

“O-okay,” I sob at last, turning my back so I don’t have to see the look of disgust on his face when he comes in.

I hear the creak of the bathroom door behind me and there’s a palpable shift in the room as he enters. Then I feel his hand on my shoulder. It just makes me cry harder. And then he is there, on the floor with me, pulling me up against his chest with strong arms. I shake my head no. I don’t want this. But I do. I don’t need this. But I do. And, somehow, this awful, mean, arrogant man seems to know this already.

With my face buried in his sweatshirt, I just cry and cry until the only thing left is the sound of my dry, hiccupping, heaves and sniffling nose. He’s patting my back, rubbing my arms and shushing me softly.

Oh. My. God.

This is my worst nightmare, and then some. I sit up, abruptly, trying to wipe my sodden face with my hands, not looking at him. I can’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” I say in a hoarse whisper.