up, she stared at him. A slow, faint smile tugged at her lips. “Alaska. We were watching Into the Wild. Both decided we had to go.”
“You were going there. The honeymoon.” The word was like acid on his tongue even though the wedding wasn’t happening. “Now it’s off. Maybe one day we can try for it together.”
“I’d love that.” Then she bit her lip and caught his shirt in her hands. “Who was she, Zach?”
Distracted, he rubbed his lips over hers. That thing she did, when she was just a little nervous, biting her lip like that . . . she didn’t do it often, just around him really. It drove him nuts, though, and made him want to do all sorts of crazy things. Like bite her. In the same spot she was biting. Then he’d . . .
“Zach.”
Her hand tangled in his hair and tugged a little just when he was getting ready to do just that.
Blinking, he focused on her face. “What?”
“I was asking you a question.” Then she muttered, “I can see where your mind is.”
He grinned at her and then swore as the cut in his lip split. “Shit.” He shifted his weight to his elbow and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. A spot of blood appeared and he sighed. “I really want to beat on those punks even harder sometimes.”
Her eyes glinted. “Can I take a swing or two?” Her fingers were gentle as she touched his cheek. “I’m still having some bad moments here. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What was it?” he asked, catching her finger between his teeth and biting gently.
“Who was she?”
It would have been easier if he could pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. He took his time, though, formulating his answer, debating on whether or not to answer. Levering his weight off of her, he headed to the bar that separated his kitchen from the living room. “Why are you asking?” Stall. That was the way to go.
“Because I want to know. I want to know who she was, how much she mattered. I want to know what happened and if you still love her.”
Reaching for a bottle of whiskey, he splashed some into a glass and tried to figure which of those questions he could answer without lying. “Sometimes, sugar, people come into your life and they mean everything,” he said slowly, staring down into the amber liquid.
He heard the soft pad of her footsteps on the floor and looked up to see her crossing over to him. “So she means a lot to you,” she whispered, her eyes dark.
A voice in the back of his mind insisted, Just tell her.
But, hell, what if she wasn’t ready for this? They’d just gotten together and things were going good, damn it. He knew she felt something. Finally. What if he told her and it scared her and she took off running from him?
She reached out and touched a finger to the glass. “You know, if you’re going to take any of the pain medicine, you can’t drink that.”
“This works better than pain medicine,” he said absently. “And I don’t make an ass of myself.”
Sighing, he tossed half of it back and let it burn its way down his throat before he lowered the glass and then focused on Abby. The sadness was back in her eyes and he had to get it out, had to do something.
Catching her hand in his, he studied her face. He knew that face so well: every expression, every line of it, every curve, the way a smile would show in her eyes even if it didn’t show anywhere else. And the same for pain. The same for sadness. Right now, there was sadness.
“People come and go all the time. But there’s only been one woman who came and stayed and mattered . . . it’s you,” he said quietly. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t entirely ready to say that, just yet.
She flicked him a look. “That’s not what I was asking, Zach. I know I’m important to you. I just—”
He came out from behind the bar and tugged her toward him, hard. She landed against him with enough force to make his bruised ribs scream but he didn’t care. Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers. “Important . . . Abby. Important describes what I have to do by April 14.