Funny how I could only see Luke in her before.
There are more people at the door and it’s a few minutes before anyone approaches the table. I watch Sierra for a bit, noting what a great job she’s doing, then consider the menu again. I see the glass of water first, then the woman delivering it.
Sylvia.
“So,” she says, markedly less friendly than Sierra. “You had to comehere.”
“Sounds like it’s the place to be.” Candace is still talking non-stop about how fabulous the meal was. Dad’s been stomping and glowering, blaming me for the fact that the café is still open. “You can’t be surprised that I’m curious.”
“I can be surprised that you broke rank.”
There’s no doubt who we’re talking about.
“Even he came for dinner.” Once.
Her eyes narrow a little, looking like they could shoot sparks, but she doesn’t say anything more about my family. Is all the softness really gone? I can’t believe everything has been easy for her but I hope Sylvia isn’t as hardened to everything asshe seems to be to me. She gestures to the seat opposite me. “Waiting for someone?”
I shake my head.
She considers me for a long moment, then lifts her pad. She is as inscrutable as ever, maybe more so. “What can I get you?”
“Actually, the main reason I came was to talk to you,” I admit and her wariness is back. “Just for a couple of minutes.” I wait a second. “Just enough time to apologize.”
That surprises her. Her eyes open a little wider. “For what?”
“For all that I said when I shouldn’t have.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I shouldn’t have even thought it. I was angry and should have kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry, and I should have said so sooner.” I meet her gaze. “I’m really sorry.”
Something flickers in her gaze, then Sylvia puts the pad into her apron. “Well, that’s done. No need to linger.”
“Sylvia.”
“Mike.” She braces her hands on the table, leaning closer to me. I can smell the scent of her skin, a scent I’ve forgotten that I know as well as my own name, a scent that unfurls a yearning in me that is fierce in its urgency. I see the twin halos of gold in her eyes, one around the outside of the iris and one around the pupil, piercing the green and hazel in between like beams of sunlight. I could stare into her eyes forever. I see the freckles on the top of her nose that she always tries to cover over. I see the sweet curve of her lips and I want to reach out, slide my hand around her nape and pull her closer. I want to kiss her into remembering how incredibly good it was between us, but the fire in her eyes stops me cold. “You can’t fix this,” she says with heat. “You’ve had years to fix what went wrong between us and you chose not to bother.”
But that’s not fair.
“How was I supposed to do that? I didn’t even know where you were!”
“You could have asked Una.”
“I did! She wouldn’t tell me.”
She blinks again, a sign of surprise that vanishes so quickly I might have imagined it. “Oh please. You could have just looked at the return address on my letter.”
I stare at her. “What letter?”
Her eyes flash. “It’s one thing to never answer me or acknowledge receipt, but don’t sit there andlieto me.I wrote to you.” Her voice rises. “I wrote and you didn’t reply. Ever. So, here we are, a whole bunch of years later, and you want to apologize. Well, that’s lovely but you can’t be surprised that I think it’s too little too late.”
I am stunned by this little soliloquy. “You wrote me a letter?”
“More than one letter.”
“Why wouldn’t you just call?”
She bristles. “Because I didn’t want to explain myself to anyone who answered the phone. A letter is a more private choice.”
