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Though I bunch my shoulders, I try to remain calm. "I would like to know why you went to him. If you'll tell me. Please."
She swings her arms several times, then stuffs her hands into her jeans pockets. "He asked to see me, and I decided I should put that demon to rest." She kicks at the floor with the toe of her shoe while staring down at the beige carpeting. "He's out on bond, and his parents have taken away all his toys. He's broke." She hauls in a long breath, releasing it slowly as she raises her gaze to mine. "He apologized for framing me. Says he always loved me and he hopes I have a good life."
Every muscle in my body stiffens, and I compress my lips. "Does he."
"Yep." She rubs her arms. "Men are apologizing to me right and left these days."
I sit down on the opposite end of the sofa from her, slouching forward to brace my elbows on my knees, my focus nailed to her. "You must think I'm just like him. Insincere, lying, uncaring."
"Actually, I think Presley was being genuine."
"What about me?"
"I'm sure you mean everything you've said."
"But?"
She spins on her heels to face the wall of windows, then sucks in a big breath, releasing it little by little. With her hands still shoved into her jeans pockets, she regards the cityscape. "I've never thought you were like Presley. He abused my trust and didn't see the error of his ways until he got caught. You figured out you'd screwed up without needing to be arrested. Plus, you told me from the start you couldn't give me more than a fling."
Mhac na galla. I wish I had never spoken those words to her.Be my American fling. What a bloody stupid ersehole I am.
I push off the sofa and come up behind her, gazing at our reflections in the window, though I keep a small gap between us. "From the moment I saw you in the club, I wanted to give you more, give you everything. The second I left your house that day, I realized what a terrible mistake I'd made, but I hurt you too badly to run back inside and beg your forgiveness. Giving you time seemed like the best choice, the only choice. Erica, you aremo leannan."
She turns around, her face level with my upper chest, standing no more than an arm's length away. Her gaze wanders over my entire body, and her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. She coughs and scuffles backward, smacking into the glass, then lays a hand over her collarbone. "You never told me whatmo leannanmeans."
Though I reach out to touch her, I hover my fingers near her cheek only to withdraw my hand and curl my fingers into my palm. "It means my sweetheart."
She swings her gaze up to mine. "All this time you've been calling me your sweetheart? Why wouldn't you tell me?"
I lift a hand to her face, trailing my fingertips down the line of her jaw while excitement tingles over my skin simply because I'm touching her. "Didn't intend to call youmo leannan, orgràidh. Those words came out before I realized what I'd said. By then it was too late, and I couldn't keep from saying them over and over." I feather my fingertips over her lips before pulling them away. "I want to give you more than sweet words, though. I want to give you everything."
"I just… Not sure…"
She sways slightly, her face going pale—and her knees buckle.
I catch her before she hits the floor.
Her purse tumbles off her shoulder to drop onto the carpeting.
I sweep her up in my arms, the way I've wanted to do since the day I fell to my knees at her feet, and carry her out of the living room. Her eyes drift shut while her head lolls against my shoulder.
Christ, she must be ill. Why else would she pass out?
When I lay her down on the bed without bothering to pull the covers back, she mumbles so softly I almost don't hear it. I can't tell if she's asleep. Though I'm reluctant to move even one foot away from her, I hurry to the bathroom and get a cool cloth for her, then brace one knee on the bed while trying not to jostle her too much. Leaning over her, I place a hand on her forehead to check for a fever. She feels normal, not warm. Thank God for that. I settle the cool, damp cloth over her forehead. Will that help? I have no idea, but it's all I can think of to do for her.
She opens her eyes a sliver to gaze up at me.
I brush the back of my hand across her cheek. "Erica, sweet, how do you feel? I should call for a doctor."
"Uh-uh." She pulls in a deep breath. "I'm fine. Besides, doctors don't come running when you call."
"If I pay enough, one will."
"Please don't. I didn't eat enough breakfast, that's all."
I adjust the cloth on her forehead, then comb my fingers through her hair. "Passing out is not the sign of a well woman."
"I must have the flu."
