“Well for starters,” he said, wiping his mouth with the napkin and then dropping it back in his lap, “I was awful to you. I had my reasons, and they were damn good ones, but no matter how good they were, I was still terrible to you. And then you—” His gaze abruptly shifted to an opposite wall, and she raised her eyebrows.
“What?”
He shifted his gaze back to her face. “You went through things. Like you said. I can’t help feeling like I should’ve been there so I could’ve helped you with whatever you went through.”
Her heart ached, and a phantom stab throbbed in her lower abdomen. “I really appreciate that.” And she did. There was no way he could’ve known that he had a direct hand in all of it, and the fact that he felt that waynot knowingthat eased the sting just a bit.
Liza shrugged, and since they were being honest anyway… “I wished you could’ve been there. I meant it earlier when I said I missed you.” She looked at her hands for fear that continuing to look at him would usher her to the brink of tears.
The room descended into silence. Connor didn’t reciprocate the sentiment as he’d done earlier. But it was entirely possible that earlier, they’d both been caught up in the moment. After all, Connor had made it clear years ago that he didn’t want her anymore—for whateverdamn good reasonsaccording to him—but that all seemed inconsequential now.
“I mean,” she appended. The atmosphere was suddenly thick with awkwardness. “I missed what we had. I still do. I tried to find it again. I’ve dated some over the years, but I never found it again.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh as she gestured at the small house clearly inhabited by a very single woman. “I mean, obviously. If I had I wouldn’t have rented the smallest house in the Irish Channel.”
“Hmph,” Connor muttered. He set down his fork and picked up his wine. “I didn’t look for it. I didn’t find it either.”
“Oh no?” Liza pushed the plate aside and rested her forearms on the table. “I guessshewasn’t what you wanted either.”
He cut his eyes toward her face and then looked into his wine glass. “Something like that.”
She should’ve held her tongue. The conversation had drifted into uncomfortable territory, and she’d steered it there. Connor was probably counting the seconds before he could politely leave, so she stood and began picking up her dishes. She crossed around to his side of the table to pick up his, but he placed his hand on her wrist.
“I got it.” He stood, and they both carried the dishes into the kitchen.
“Anyway, I think it sort of seems like it was meant to be,” Liza said, attempting a casual tone as she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “Maybe we’re some kind of alt-soulmates.”
Connor made a sound in his throat that was somewhere between a scoff and a quick, sarcastic laugh. “Alt-soulmates?”
She turned and dried her hands on a towel. “Yeah. Like some people are destined to find each other and be together forever. Maybe we were destined to find each other just so we could lose each other and then never find anyone else ever again.”
He rubbed his chin, leaning against the counter opposite her. “Better to have loved and lost and all that, right?”
Setting the towel down, Liza folded her arms across her chest and couldn’t stop the words before they spilled out of her mouth. “Iloved you.”
Connor shoved his hands in his pockets, crossing one ankle over the other, and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you insinuating that I didn’t love you?”
She shrugged, turning her palms over. “I think youthoughtyou loved me. I think when you got back to reality, you lost that loving feeling.” She began shuffling from side-to-side, snapping her fingers, and doing her best impersonation of Tom Cruise and Anthony Edwards in Top Gun. “You lost that loving fee-eeling. Whoo-ooah that loo-ooving feeling. Now it’s gone, gone, go—”
He didn’t laugh, so she gave him a playful shove.
“Come on, Connor. It’s not a big deal anymore.” She picked up the bottle to refill his glass and hers. “I like what we have better now anyway. We’re friends.” She sipped the wine and cocked her head as she squinted and pondered. “Sort of friends. Friendly colleagues who randomly kiss each other sometimes.” She paused to laugh. “Apparently.”
At that Connor finally cracked a genuine smile. “Yeah, except you ruined the one earlier by passing out in the middle of it.”
She laughed again as she set her glass down and shrugged again. “Sorry! It was stupid hot out there and ridiculously humid.”
Connor placed his glass on the counter, a mischievous smirk tugging one corner of his mouth. “Maybe.” He stalked toward her. “Think I want a do-over.”
Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. Her stomach gave an unmistakable flip. “Oh really? A do-over, huh?”
He placed his palms on the edge of the counter, trapping her hips between them. “Yeah, I don’t like to half-ass things.”
Liza gulped. “So that was half-assed kissing earlier?”
He lifted his hulking shoulders, the muscle in his jaw giving a subtle twitch. “Yeah, but only because you couldn’t take the heat.” He angled his face just above hers, and she instinctively raised her chin.
“If you can’t take the heat,” Liza babbled as longing and anticipation clouded her brain, “get out of the kitchen.”
“I think your kitchen’s just fine.” He drew his bottom lip across her parted mouth, and her breath drained from her.
