That was when he leaned across the table, his large hand covering my smaller one. I hated the fact that that sizzle of electricity whenever we touched ignited yet again. His hold on my hand was firm.
“I’m sorry for rushing off the way I did after our first night together. And for not contacting you afterward.” He paused, glancing around either side of us before moving in closer. “My father had a massive stroke.”
My eyes widened in surprise and I leaned closer as well. I’d heard all of those years ago that Robert Townsend Sr. had had a minor health issue but the news reports had made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal, never going into full details of what the issue was.
Robert nodded, acknowledging my disbelief and unasked question. “The day before I left. That was what the emergency call was about.”
“I read about something in the paper but they made it seem like—”
“We did that on purpose. All types of business snakes emerge from the grass when they think their rival has some sort of weakness. Townsend Industries was under immense pressure at the time, due to the oil crisis. Hell, we still are,” he grunted, anger marring his face. “Anyway, we never wanted to show weakness. So I took over running the day-to-day operations at Townsend while he recuperated. It took nearly twelve months just for him to walk without a cane and talk without a slur. He’s still not back to where he used to be.”
At that, Robert closed up, evidently not wanting to reveal anymore about his father’s health.
“I couldn’t get back to campus even though I wanted to. The best I could do was finish our project from afar and get it to you.”
I gave him a half smile at that. Robert had completed our World Mythologies project and had it especially delivered to my dorm room a week before it was due, saving me an immense amount of time.
“We got an A on the project, by the way,” I stated, grinning.
He squeezed my hand. “I know.”
“You didn’t even make it to your own college graduation.” I’d waited for him at graduation, certain that he would show up. I’d asked a few of his friends for weeks where he was when I didn’t see him around campus. All they’d told me was that he was taking care of family business. That was when my anger started. But even then, I’d waited and looked for him at graduation, hoping he’d show up.
“My only regret is not getting to see you walk across that stage.”
Why did his words feel genuine? Why had it been that aside from my own mother and father, my only regret was that he wasn’t there to see me graduate—for us to graduate together.
“I completed all of my courses from afar. They had to mail me my degree. I was in a meeting with three other heads of energy companies, bargaining for lowered oil prices on the day of graduation. I would’ve loved nothing more than to have seen you in your cap and gown.”
“You had family to take care of.”
He snorted. “More like business.”
I caught the bitterness in his tone but thought better of asking more about it. I’d spent five years rethinking the last conversation we had that night together. He’d shared with me the mistreatment from his own father. He didn’t need to retell it.
“But I’m not here to talk about business.”
“Than what are you here for?”
“To talk about you and I.”
I pushed out a breath, shaking off the chill that ran through me at the mention of there being anus.
“There is no us. I told you, I—”
“Have a boyfriend,” he stated on a flat tone, waving his hand dismissively.
“Yes.”
“Then where is he?” he asked, glancing around the restaurant as if trying to find him.
I gave him a look. “Unlike you, he can’t just take off whenever he wants. Cohen’s working.”
“Don’t.”
I wrinkled my brows. “Don’t what?”
“Say his name again.”
