“Pretty blonde, looks determined?” Jake grins. “Your girl came to you.”
“What do I—” I start to stand, then sink back down. “I don’t want to see her. Tell her I’m not available.”
“Like hell.” Knox’s voice is blunt, with no room for negotiation. “Marcus, buzz her in.”
“Wait—”
“Owen.” Jake’s tone is serious. “Don’t be a dick.”
The elevator doors slide open,and I have to catch my breath. Fuck. I’ve missed this woman. She’s wearing dark jeans and a slate-colored sweater, her hair pulled back, her jaw set.
“Vivian.” My voice wavers as I say her name. She doesn’t look happy, which isn’t surprising. No man likes standing in front of a woman who’s angry at him.
“You don’t get to hide from me, Owen.”
No preamble, just right to the point. Conversations around the bullpen taper. I’m distinctly aware that everyone is watching us.
“Not here,” I say, gesturing toward my office. She lets me guide her, but her shoulder is stiff under my palm.
I open my door; she walks in first. I stand there looking at her, speechless and feeling like an absolute fucking idiot. How could I ghost this woman?
She turns to face me. “You vanished.”
“I know.” The apology’s already in my throat. “Vivian, I’m—”
“Don’t say sorry to fill air.” Her voice is steady and even, which makes this almost worse. I never understood what people meant when they said they’d rather someone yell at them than be quiet when they’re clearly angry. “Say what you’re actually apologizing for.”
I swallow. “I’m sorry for not coming in. For not calling. For making you think I regretted that night.”
Her chin lifts a fraction, her eyes hard with challenge. “Did you?”
“No.” The word is easy. The rest isn’t. “Not for a second.”
The line of her shoulders softens by a degree, but the anger in her eyes doesn’t fade. “Then why?”
“Because I was scared.” I hate how small that sounds, but I don’t dress it up. “Of hurting you.”
She holds my stare. “You already did.”
I flinch, but I don’t look away. “I know. I told myself I was protecting you.” I drag a hand through my hair.
“Protecting me from what?” Vivian’s voice rises in frustration.
I take a deep breath. “From me.”
Vivian’s mouth falls open, and she shakes her head. “What on earth…”
“That night—it meant everything. You—” I bite down on too much, try again. “You mean everything.”
Her breath catches. Anger wavers, revealing hurt. “And so you decided that ghosting me was the best way to treat a woman you’d just slept with?”
“No. I…This is the pattern. I’m poison in relationships. Meeting you was…You’re a force of nature. I avoid relationships because I always ruin them,” I force the words out, ugly and honest.
“Shocker,” Vivian says, rolling her eyes.
“I pour myself into work, vanish for days, weeks. I forget dates, birthdays. I told myself if I stepped back now, I wouldn’t put you through that. I told myself disappearing before you were more invested was kinder than disappointing you when I inevitably let you down.”
“You decided for me.”
