“Why ever would she?”
“Because you’re beautiful.”
“I’m not.”
“You were too skinny before. You look better now.”
I wasn’t sure where he was headed, but it couldn’t be anywhere good. Talk about baggage? There was so much of it between us, and it wasso dark,that I just couldn’t play games. He needed a reminder. I lifted my bangs to show him my scar.
He stared, frowned. “Where is it?”
“You don’t see it? Right here?” I let him look for a beat before dropping my hand and rearranging my bangs. “You never liked makeup.”
“Not on you. You never needed it.”
“That was before.”
“Well, I never needed a beard before, so we’re even.”
Pushing the salad away, I rose, went to the desk and etched my palm along its carved edge. “We’ll never be even.”
From behind, came an angry, “Jesus, Mackenzie,” then, with more control, “Y’know, we can go back and forth about who’s to blame, but you’ll never convince me it’s all you. So stop it already. We both feel guilt. Webothfeel regret. We both need to see someone different in the mirror when we get up in the morning.”
I turned. I wasn’t sure I could accept guilt on his part, but he clearly felt it. Nope, no actor, my Edward. There had been nothing staged about his wet eyes yesterday morning, and his fierce look now sealed the deal. He felt guilt.
Since arguing further would have been pointless, I studied his beard. “How long have you had it?”
“Three years,” he said. His voice was quiet. “I started growing it when I realized I needed a change.”
“Did it itch?”
“Growing? Yes.”
“Take much work now?”
“Less than shaving.”
“And it makes you feel different?” Hiding a scar was a subtraction. A beard was an addition. So were my bangs, I supposed, but I wondered whether seeing the beard in the mirror helped.
Actually, I wondered lots of things, only his eyes held mine, held mine, held mine with that irrevocably visceral pull. It had nothing to do with guilt or regret or grief, or any of the other emotions standing between us. I could raise any one of those, and it would instantly break the spell.
Actually, the thought alone did it. I looked away. At some point, we would need to have that discussion, but I couldn’t squeeze it into an hour’s lunch and then go to the most public job in the Spa without my face betraying angst. Besides, I wasn’t sure I was ready to be so raw again, especially not with Edward.
When he remained silent, I glanced over to see him frowning at his sandwich. After jiggling it for a minute, he dropped it on the wrapper, wiped his hand on his slacks, raised his eyes, and shifted the fight. “Are you closer to Nina than you are to Grace?”
Back to the present. This was okay. Returning to the chair, I said, “No. I’m closer to Grace.”
“Closer, how?”
I lifted my fork, waved it in dismissal. “Girl stuff.”
“Does she know about us?”
“No.”
“How do you have a friendship without sharing things like that?”
“Easily. You have ground rules. I don’t ask about her past, she doesn’t ask about mine.”
