No Attachments - By Tiffany King Page 0,81

for scraps of information off your father. I was forced to sit idly by in some diner instead of being by your side while you almost died. I did nothing but wait for you, and then, the one time I actually get to see you, you act like I'm not even there. You treated me like some chump you had a one-night stand with who you would rather never lay eyes on again. You stomped on my heart like a heartless bitch and drove away," he yelled, closing the distance between us in angry strides before stopping right at my face. "How could you act like what we shared was nothing?" he asked before pulling me in for a rough kiss. Time stopped moving as the familiarity of his lips settled against mine. The kiss was filled with anger and hurt, but it did not stop my heart from racing with excitement. "Why?" he whispered, finally pulling back, but not loosening his grip on my shoulders.

"Because I couldn't bare for you to see me like that. I was ashamed. My hair was gone, and I was weaker than an eighty-year-old woman. I wanted to spare you the horror of what I looked like. I was scared that the passion you once felt for me would be replaced with pity. I couldn't face that. I wanted you to remember me the way I was in Woodfalls," I said as a tear escaped my overflowing eyes. "I didn't want you to see me die if the cancer beat me. It would have killed me if your last memory of me was a shell of the former person I was."

"Why didn't you call me when you started to get better?" he asked quietly as his anger melted away.

"Vanity. I wanted to have something besides a scarf covering my head," I said, self-consciously rubbing a hand over my short hair that had grown in darker than its previous shade. "I needed to feel normal," I admitted. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway. It's too late."

"Because you don't love me anymore?" he asked in a resigned voice.

"Of course not, idiot," I said as a fresh wave anger flared up inside me again. "Because my father told me that you met someone else," I said, jerking my shoulders from his grasp.

"Charles told you…" he asked incredulously before throwing back his head with laughter.

"What the hell is so funny about my father telling me?" I snapped, fighting the urge to slap the grin off his face.

"You're father is a born matchmaker."

"Are you trying to tell me he's the one who set you up?" I asked, feeling the sting of betrayal. "He told me you met her at work."

"Your father didn't set just me up, he set you up too," he said softly, taking my hand in his.

"You're not seeing someone?" I asked as understanding dawned on me.

He shook his head. "Sweets, the only one I want to see is standing in front of me."

"My father set us up. Is that how you knew I'd be here today?" I asked, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together.

"No, but he knows I run here every day."

"That's why he pushed me to come here. No wonder he was so nosy this morning," I mused. "You're not bike riding with some chick from work?" I repeated, sagging in relief.

He laughed again. "You're the only one I want to bike with, sweetheart," he said, pulling me too him and resting his lips against mine.

Our lips melded together, filled with tenderness and promises of no anger or hurt. The past was forgotten as we lost ourselves in each other's arms, rediscovering what had brought us together in the first place.

"By the way, your hair is sexy as hell," he whispered in my ear. "Should we let Charles know we found each other, or should we make him squirm?"

"Well, I am still pissed that he lied to me this morning, but on the other hand, it made me face the music. I kept pushing back when I was going to contact you. First, it was after the chemo. Then it was once I went into remission, and then I changed it to when I no longer resembled a bald baby. Truthfully, I think I was just afraid to face you. I was scared that it wouldn't be like it was. Everything happened so quickly before. All the decisions we made were dictated by lust. I was afraid that once we faced reality, that same