The most likely scenario was that he was already too late. His chance to save the day had ended five years ago, and his opportunity to put things to rights had gone up in smoke last night.
But he had to try. Love was worth fighting for.
Gladys was worth any sacrifice.
When Reuben arrived at her door, it was not empty-handed. He’d made a brief stop along the way, in the hopes that it would aid his cause. And if not… well. He would keep trying until there was no hope left.
He set the heavy basket on the doormat and banged the brass knocker.
Silence greeted him. And nerves. Pinpricks, all over his body. Nerves and desperation and—
A miaow. Soft, but right there on the other side of the door. Count Whiskers! Gladys had said a friend was minding her cat, which meant if Count Whiskers was now back at home, Gladys must be, too.
Reuben banged the knocker again with renewed hope.
“I’m coming,” came her laughing voice as the lock disengaged. “What on earth can be the—”
She stared at him, her happy smile falling into an expression of dismay.
He dropped to his knees at once, clasping his hands in supplication.
Count Whiskers let out a hiss. Gladys moved to shut the door.
“Please listen, just for a moment,” he blurted out, unable to tide the words now that he’d found her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I will never stop being sorry for what I did to you, and my lack of action that followed.”
She crossed her arms, but she didn’t shut the door.
“My chest isn’t big enough to contain all the sorrow I feel. Made all the worse because my sorrow is meaningless. I’m sorrier than I can ever say, but that won’t undo what I’ve done.” His words spilled faster and faster. “I wronged you, time and again. I should have seen it then. I see it now. I see you, now.”
She didn’t move.
“And this is me.” He spread his arms wide. “Worse than imperfect. You know the worst of me, because I showed it to you, again and again. I believed I caused no harm, when the opposite was true.”
Her brow lifted slightly, as though to say, Understatement.
“I was a terrible person,” he admitted. “I don’t want to be the rogue anymore. I’d like to think I stopped being that man when I met you again for the second time—but we both know I kept hurting you. It probably doesn’t help to know that my missteps this time were because I did want you, and was afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
Her eyebrows climbed higher. “The ton’s most prolific rake somehow believed himself undesirable? I was literally naked in your arms.”
The back of his neck heated. “And I thought that was all anyone ever wanted from me. On a hot summer day, cold sugary ice cream sounds delicious. And the first scoop is. Maybe even the second. By the third, you no longer hunger for it. By the fourth, your stomach starts to turn. By the fifth, you can’t even bear to open your mouth. I’m not just an acquired taste. I’m only palatable in single scoops.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re a person, not ice cream.”
“Yes, well, that’s easy to say when you’re clean spring water, perfect at any time of any day, and absolutely necessary for life. I could never get enough of you, Gladys. I would bathe myself in your embrace, drown in your kisses. I want you when you are boiling hot, and I want you when you pelt me with shards of hail. I want your puddles, your thunderstorms, your tsunami. I don’t deserve any part of you, but would cross the farthest desert for a single drop.”
“And here you are. On my doorstep.”
“Tell me where you want me, and that is where I will go. On the moon? I will fly away. In your life? I will never leave it. I never truly wanted you to be my mistress. I want you to be my wife.” He pulled a diamond ring from his pocket. It had belonged to his grandmother. “I know I don’t deserve your presence before an altar yet. Take this, as a token of my sincerity. All I ask for today is a chance to prove it.”
She did not take the ring. She scooped Count Whiskers up into her arms instead, and jutted her chin toward Reuben’s knees. “What’s in the basket?”
“The last resort of a desperate man.” He flung open the lid. “Every book I could find with similar themes to the ones you’ve been reading. Including the next volume in that series.”
She frowned. “The next installment doesn’t publish for another month.”
“And yet, publishers must print copies in advance, in order to be ready for release day.” He held up the volume. It had cost a small fortune to pry it from the publisher’s warehouse. “If you don’t want it…”
Gladys shooed Count Whiskers into the house behind her and held out her palm. “Give it here.”
