He insisted on walking her out. When he’d confirmed for himself that Neil wasn’t lurking in any corners—not that she asked or he confessed—he let her go by herself to the reception desk.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the honey-voiced desk clerk said four minutes later, “we’re all sold out tonight.” She flicked a hand toward a group of wedding guests. “The wedding and parents’ weekend on campus have us booked.”
Anna propped her elbow on the marble countertop and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not even one room? Don’t you always hold one or two back for special circumstances? I got beaned with the bridal bouquet and shouldn’t drive home.”
“Yes, ma’am, usually, but the college president came in an hour ago with some distinguished guests.” She dropped her voice. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“How about a broom closet?”
“I’d be happy to call the Camp Inn down the road for you.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Neil’s voice made Anna’s shoulders bunch. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
Slick shoes shuffled against the tile floor beside her. “Look, Anna, I’ve handled today poorly.”
“Just today?”
The hotel clerk cleared her throat and slid away. Neil tugged on his cuffs. “Let me make it up to you.” He slid a flat key-card onto the counter. “Take my room.”
Anna’s neck muscles hurt from holding her head upright. A haze of exhaustion crept into her vision. “No, thank you.”
“It’s my fault you got hit. You should take my room.”
The normal cocky tilt to his head was gone, replaced with ahumbler, straight-on hazel plea for something she didn’t have the stamina to interpret. She signaled the clerk. “Do you have a number for a taxi service?”
“That’s not necessary.” He shifted again, but his lips settled into an unfortunately familiar rigid board, his voice tight. “If you won’t take my room, let me drive you home.”
More familiar. In a car. In the dark. With Neil. Driving home from a celebration. Unwelcome nostalgia made her nauseous. “I can take care of myself.”
“You always could. That’s one of the things I love about you.”
Hewhat?
“Look, I know you’re tired, but I’d really like to talk.”
Oh, Lordy, he’d pulled out the earnest puppy face. And aimed it ather.
As he had on the night he proposed.
He took her by the elbow. She gulped back something that tasted like diseased strawberries. “Neil. Stop.”
He stepped close enough for the mingled odors of wet hog and rotten peaches to seep into her nose. She covered her mouth, but still found her face squished into the front of his tuxedo shirt. “Anna, I was wrong. I miss you so much. Baby, I’m falling apart without you.”
Voices lingered somewhere nearby, but whoever it was either didn’t notice or didn’t care that she was suffocating in the scent of Neil’s body wash. She wrenched away from him. Her head teetered on her neck. Her temper teetered on something significantly less solid. “Take it back.”
“I can’t. I screwed up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back. You want kids? You want me to get out? Anything. You name it.”
Her voice wasn’t as steady as her knees, and those were about to buckle. “I want to go home,by myself, to my label maker.”
A woman who hadn’t been married to him for six years might’ve missed it, but she caught the way his right nostrilflared at the mention of her label maker. The slight movement set loose a fresh volcano of anger. She pointed a shaky hand at the door. “Get out.”
“I love you.”
“If you love me, you will turn around, walk out that door, and never, ever bother me again.”
“Anna—”
