by V.K. Sykes
Holly’s heart skipped a beat when Nate’s ID popped up on her call display. Several beats, actually, and she had to dig deep for a breath before she answered.
“Hello,” she said, struggling to hide her emotions. She’d thought endlessly about what to say if he called, but the reality sucked the words from her brain.
“Hi, Holly. Still hate me?” he said in a light-hearted voice that sounded totally fake.
“Of course I don’t hate you. Why would you even say something like that?” Holly winced at the harshness of her tone, but couldn’t believe that those were his first words.
He exhaled loudly, his frustration bleeding through over the phone. “Hey, don’t start off like this. I’ve got a lot of pride, too.”
Holly’s throat closed as she struggled to respond, to figure out the right thing to say. Her brain felt frozen, and she hated that. Never had she felt less in control over her emotions.
“It took a lot for me to pick up the phone,” he added.
“I know.” She sounded tight and unyielding, but that was because she was trying to keep her voice from quavering. She hated that, too.
“I know you think I let you down,” he said. “And I’m sorry about that. Really sorry. But the way I look at it, things have been way too good between us to throw everything over without giving it another try. Around twenty-four hours ago, everything was still aces between us. Don’t you think we should talk about it some more?”
Holly hesitated. Of course she wanted to talk to him. She was dying to see him again, to have him hold her again. But she couldn’t bear a rehash of yesterday’s horrible confrontation. “Not if it doesn’t accomplish anything. It’ll just hurt too much,” she said softly.
“Okay, I get that. But we can’t fix this situation if we don’t talk. I don’t want to lose you, Holly. Not like this. Let’s have dinner, okay? Just dinner. I promise.”
A fluttering of hope pulsed somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, easing the ache just a bit. At least he’d said he didn’t want to lose her. Maybe that was a start.
“All right,” she said. “Dinner.” She was terrified of being hurt again, but it wouldn’t be right to turn him down cold. Not when he seemed to be genuinely trying.
“Fantastic,” he said, relief evident in his tone.
“Just dinner,” she emphasized. They needed to talk, not get distracted by sexual chemistry.
“That’s what I said, right? We’ll eat and we’ll talk, that’s all. You love Japanese food, so why don’t I take you back to Takarazuka?”
She did love that restaurant. They’d shared a wildly romantic meal there early in their relationship, enjoying the wonderful Japanese cuisine but barely able to keep their hands off each other. Holly’s body started to respond as she recalled the memories.
“That’s fine,” she said, making sure her voice sounded crisp—detached, even. “You make the reservation and I’ll meet you there. I should be able to make it by seven-thirty. If not, I’ll call your cell.”
“Sure, I’ll take care of it. See you at seven-thirty.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I’m looking forward to it, babe. I miss you.”
Holly had to resist the urge to respond in kind. She didn’t trust that anything was really different—that he would take a different course with her now that he’d had time to reflect. Yes, she felt gratified that Nate had taken the initiative to call. That’s what she’d been hoping for. But would more talk actually lead to any change between them? Or would it bring on another painful fight, and a confirmation that she was just like every other woman who’d passed through Nate Carter’s life?
Fun while it lasted, but nothing more.