Read Online As If You Never Left Me (Crimson Romance) by Katriena Knights - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katriena Knights
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can, no.” No matter how hard it might prove to be, she didn’t think she could consider a future with him without working through their past.
His gaze slid sideways, and she could tell he was disappointed by her answer, but he shrugged, resigned. “Okay, then, we might as well dig in.” Folding his hands in front of him on the table, he added, “You first.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. Where in the world was she supposed to start? Of all the wounds they’d inflicted on each other, which should she pick open first? Rallying, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Why did it take you so long to come after me?”
He nodded approvingly. “Okay. A tough question, but fair.”
“You’re stalling, Rey.”
“Yes, I am.”
Resting her chin on her fist, she waited while he gathered the pieces of his answer. Would this be the honest Rey, who’d bared his soul to her from time to time? Or Rey the equivocator, whom she’d seen wowing the jury in court? Or attempting to wow the jury. She still couldn’t shake the image of the last trial of his she’d witnessed, when all attempts at wowing had failed miserably.
“When you left — ” he started, then broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to go into this. It can’t help. We both know what happened.”
Joely blinked back sudden, surprising tears. She remembered it all too well. Inwardly, she cringed to remember the imprecations she’d thrown at him along with the divorce papers.
“Don’t bother calling me, Rey. It’s too late to fix this. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.”
And that had been the least of it. She hadn’t thought about that in a long time. She’d shoved it into the back of her mind so she could pretend it had never happened. A part of her still refused to believe she could have been so awful to him. So hateful. Hurtful.
His gaze caught hers as she regained control of her swimming eyes. His pain was masked there, but she could still see it lurking. Maybe he was right. It would be like picking at a nearly healed wound to revisit those moments.
“It occurs to me,” he said slowly, “that you might have some of the answers you need if you’d taken the time to read my letters.”
She swallowed. The letters. She hadn’t wanted to read them last night, and she didn’t want to read them today. But maybe he was right. Maybe she’d missed what she’d needed to hear, back then, by not looking at them. A wave of nervous tension suddenly passed through her, making her almost nauseated. Better to get it done, if he was going to insist. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. Make it quick.
He wasn’t sure why he brought up the letters. He already knew she hadn’t read them — she’d told him that in the restaurant. But when she got up and walked into the bedroom, he had a sudden sense that it had, in fact, been the right thing to say.
She came out carrying a shoebox, which she set on the table next to him. Tentatively, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. So he opened the box.
They were all there. All the letters he’d written her after she’d stormed out of their apartment. Running his fingers over the edges of the envelopes, he counted twelve. None had been opened. Was that really all there’d been? He could have sworn he’d written at least a hundred. He looked up at Joely.
“Read them,” she said. “Or shall I?”
He cast his mind back and dredged up some of the more colorful contents of the letters. “I’ll read select highlights under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I burn them when I’m done.”
Her eyebrows shot up into neatly plucked, pale blonde arcs. “That bad?”
“Some of it.”
She considered. She looked almost frightened. “All right. It’s a deal. Read.”
He opened the first envelope, unfolded the letter, and confronted his own, old pain. If he let his guard down
His gaze slid sideways, and she could tell he was disappointed by her answer, but he shrugged, resigned. “Okay, then, we might as well dig in.” Folding his hands in front of him on the table, he added, “You first.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that. Where in the world was she supposed to start? Of all the wounds they’d inflicted on each other, which should she pick open first? Rallying, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Why did it take you so long to come after me?”
He nodded approvingly. “Okay. A tough question, but fair.”
“You’re stalling, Rey.”
“Yes, I am.”
Resting her chin on her fist, she waited while he gathered the pieces of his answer. Would this be the honest Rey, who’d bared his soul to her from time to time? Or Rey the equivocator, whom she’d seen wowing the jury in court? Or attempting to wow the jury. She still couldn’t shake the image of the last trial of his she’d witnessed, when all attempts at wowing had failed miserably.
“When you left — ” he started, then broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t really want to go into this. It can’t help. We both know what happened.”
Joely blinked back sudden, surprising tears. She remembered it all too well. Inwardly, she cringed to remember the imprecations she’d thrown at him along with the divorce papers.
“Don’t bother calling me, Rey. It’s too late to fix this. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.”
And that had been the least of it. She hadn’t thought about that in a long time. She’d shoved it into the back of her mind so she could pretend it had never happened. A part of her still refused to believe she could have been so awful to him. So hateful. Hurtful.
His gaze caught hers as she regained control of her swimming eyes. His pain was masked there, but she could still see it lurking. Maybe he was right. It would be like picking at a nearly healed wound to revisit those moments.
“It occurs to me,” he said slowly, “that you might have some of the answers you need if you’d taken the time to read my letters.”
She swallowed. The letters. She hadn’t wanted to read them last night, and she didn’t want to read them today. But maybe he was right. Maybe she’d missed what she’d needed to hear, back then, by not looking at them. A wave of nervous tension suddenly passed through her, making her almost nauseated. Better to get it done, if he was going to insist. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. Make it quick.
He wasn’t sure why he brought up the letters. He already knew she hadn’t read them — she’d told him that in the restaurant. But when she got up and walked into the bedroom, he had a sudden sense that it had, in fact, been the right thing to say.
She came out carrying a shoebox, which she set on the table next to him. Tentatively, she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. So he opened the box.
They were all there. All the letters he’d written her after she’d stormed out of their apartment. Running his fingers over the edges of the envelopes, he counted twelve. None had been opened. Was that really all there’d been? He could have sworn he’d written at least a hundred. He looked up at Joely.
“Read them,” she said. “Or shall I?”
He cast his mind back and dredged up some of the more colorful contents of the letters. “I’ll read select highlights under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I burn them when I’m done.”
Her eyebrows shot up into neatly plucked, pale blonde arcs. “That bad?”
“Some of it.”
She considered. She looked almost frightened. “All right. It’s a deal. Read.”
He opened the first envelope, unfolded the letter, and confronted his own, old pain. If he let his guard down
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