“Ah. That explains it—I’m more of a death metal fan. Thirty-five forty-seven.”
She handed him her debit card.
“He really interrupted your wedding?”
“Yup.”
He gave her card and the receipt back. “Wow. That’s ballsy.”
“Yup.”
“Well, try not to drink it all at one time, okay?”
She cracked a smile. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Hope your day gets better.”
“Me, too.” She took the bag and returned to her car, scanning for anyone with a camera. No one stood out and she hoped she had lost them while she’d driven around aimlessly. So aimlessly, she wasn’t entirely sure where she was.
She set the bag on the floor behind the passenger seat and started the engine. Poor Richard. He hadn’t deserved her blowup.
Luke deserved her blowup.
She snatched her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her recent calls, stopping at the unassigned number from three weeks ago.
It answered on the second ring. “Rowan?”
“Why did you do it? Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Is your life so boring and unfulfilling that you had nothing better to do than interrupt my wedding and ruin my life? Again? I just blew up at Richard because I thought he was going to ask me if I was the woman who got left at the altar.”
“Who’s Richard?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter! I can’t go to work because it’s too disruptive to the patients. I—”
“You were fired?”
“No, I wasn’t fired, but I may as well have been. The clinic owner is making me take the time off that I had scheduled for my honeymoon. Except I’m not going on my honeymoon and I have nothing else to do except sit around my house drinking ice cream and vodka floats.”
“Come to Nashville.”
“What? I’m not going to Nashville,” she almost shouted. Did he not understand she was angry with him?
“Why not?”
“Why? Because we’re not together.”
“But we could be if you gave us another chance. I’m sorry this is affecting your work, but I’m not sorry about what I did. I should have done it a hell of a long time ago. Come out here. I’ll put you up at a hotel if that’s what you want, but I want another chance, Rowan. Let me prove to you that I’m serious.”
For a dangerous millisecond—a microsecond—she considered it. What would it hurt? Would she be any worse off than she was right now? Probably. Because the last few days had shown her he could still break her heart into thousands of pieces.
“You’ve disrupted my life enough.” She hung up the phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat.
