She looked at up at him again. Level and direct. "No," she said. "I wasn't."
"I thought you'd retired."
She held his gaze and said nothing, and in that silence he understood. She hadn’t retired early. She’d waited for him somewhere, and he hadn’t gone in search of her. But neither of them was going to say that aloud.
"It was a long day," she said, finally. Giving him the perfect excuse if he wanted to take it.
Foolishly, he pressed forward instead. "Cori.”
She waited, her brow lifted in expectation of whatever he meant to tell her.
"I’ve been trying," he began, carefully, "to do what’s right by you."
"And what is that?” she asked.
How could he explain it? How to make her understand? He didn’t even understand any of it himself.
“Do you think I don’t know my own mind, James?”
“No, of course not. I?—”
“That I shouldn’t have a say in deciding what's right for me?”
“Well, I?—”
“I will have you know that I make decisions that affect the running of Beckett Salt and the livelihood of a great many people all the time. I am quite capable of making decisions about my own life.”
“That’s not what I meant. I?—”
“No?” she asked a little tartly. “What did you mean, then?”
He meant to tell her that he’d wanted to see her the night before. That he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He wanted to tell her that their kiss had consumed him since that night in the library. But what flew out of his mouth instead was, “I had a seizure.”
“What?” She blinked at him.
He was stunned. And from the expression on her face, so was she. If he could call the words back, he would have done so in a heartbeat.
“A seizure?” she repeated as though making sure she’d heard him correctly.
“I didn’t mean to tell you that,” he said.
“Last night?” Her pretty blue eyes were clouded with worry.
“No.” He shook his head. “Six weeks ago. In London." He blew out a breath.
“Six weeks ago?”
James couldn’t hold her gaze. He could not bear to see the worry on her face, so he focused on the moors in the distance instead. “The morning of Darling’s wedding,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Hannah found me, Daniel sent for Dr. Wells, and?—”
Her hand settled on his arm and he glanced down at her once more.
“—he couldn’t give me assurances, Cori. So, I have none that I can offer you."
She said nothing. She simply looked at him with her clear eyes and an expression he couldn’t fully read.
The silence between them stretched and felt like a confirmation of sorts. The very thing he'd been trying to protect her from had arrived anyway. She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and he’d just told her that he couldn’t promise her anything. Her silence said everything that her kindness wouldn’t let her say aloud.
"So, you see," he began, and then cleared his throat, "why I thought it better?—"
