A tear slipped down her cheek just as someone brushed their finger through her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Her head shot up and she gasped.
“I hate to see you so sad.” Clint stared down at her with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
She drew herself up and away from him. “I’m fine.” She glanced around the crowded deli. “What are you doing here?”
“Lunch.” The obvious answer didn’t sound like a lie, but it made her hesitate and question his motives after catching him lurking and stalking her at the farmers market and outside the restaurant where she and Tate ate Monday night.
“Thank you for the concern, but I’m fine.”
“Listen, things between us got screwed up.” What sounded like genuine remorse filled those words. “I’m sorry about that. I’d like to help if I can, even if it’s just to listen.” He didn’t wait for her agreement and sat across from her. “Eat, babe. You’ll feel better.”
She didn’t want the food, she wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when she thought she and Tate had a future filled with Instagram posts of their engagement, wedding, and babies.
She wanted Clint to leave so she could think and try to understand why Tate did this now.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
It devastated her. “Tate broke up with me.”
Clint leaned in, his arms crossed on the table. “He’s an idiot for letting you go.”
She slumped in her chair and fought the tears again. “Thanks.” She appreciated the sentiment even if it came from him.
“It’s how I felt after screwing things up with you. I don’t know what got into me. Seeing you with him . . . I should have handled things better.” The sincerity in his voice sounded real, but she had a hard time believing him. “I should have trusted you more.” In her mind, you either trusted someone or not. “I should have believed you wanted to be with me and that your friendship with him didn’t mean you weren’t committed to our relationship.”
This was the Clint she remembered. Open. Easygoing. The guy she liked and fell for before it all went bad.
She couldn’t put the blame all on him. She’d had one foot out the door the whole time wishing for Tate. Her heart had always belonged to him and doomed all her other relationships.
Well, she and Tate had tried and her fears came true. He didn’t really want her. He’d warned her that her questioning his true intentions might drive a wedge between them. In the end, he realized his feelings didn’t run that deep.
Fooling around, spending time together, it didn’t amount to more than a good time. Not enough to make him want to build a life with her.
Clint’s hand settled over hers. “Listen, babe, let me brighten your day. I’ll take you out for drinks, maybe some dancing. We’ll laugh and have fun and you’ll forget all about what’s-his-name.” Clint gave her a coaxing smile.
The last thing she wanted to do was repeat past mistakes. And right now, a quiet night at home with a book or movie, her favorite blanket, and a gallon of rocky road sounded like a plan she could get behind.
“Thank you for your concern and the offer, but I think I’ll head home after work and take some time to myself.”
Clint patted her hand. “Another time then. I really would like to make things up to you. I’m not that guy, Liz. I hope you know that.”
To keep the peace and put it in the past, she said, “Let’s just forget it.”
His smile spread into genuine glee. “I knew you wouldn’t hold it against me. You’re kind, Liz. You see the good in people.” Clint glanced around the room, then focused on her again. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll leave you to eat your lunch, but I hope we can get together soon.”
She didn’t want to ruin the mood by ending yet another encounter with Clint by shooting him down and making him . . . upset. She preferred him reasonable and nice.
She’d never forget that he turned on her.
“I’ll be okay.” She couldn’t help but look down at her phone, think about Tate and how he ended things, and wonder what might have been.
“Haven’t you spent enough time waiting for him?”
Did she read a hint of bitterness in that question? Or was that her own sour heartbreak?