am.
“No politics on the agenda for today?” I gesture to what she’s wearing.
“We were supposed to be at a charity luncheon later, but something came up with Ford’s mom, so he had to cancel last minute. Do you know if she’s ill?”
I keep a straight face, purposely keeping my expression blank so that she won’t wonder if there’s something more to Ford’s sudden cancellation.
“I remember you talking about it,” I say, bending down to pick up the book and change the course of conversation.
She chuckles. “I had a mild obsession for Rhett Butler for a while. The will-they-or-won’t-they seemed romantic as a teenager.”
“Are you still a romantic?” I ask, finding myself eager for her answer. Is it something I ruined for her?
She shrugs. “It’s nice to think that you’re meant to be with someone and that maybe you’ll get more than one shot to get it right. But as an adult, I think Rhett and Scarlett probably just weren’t right for one another.”
She steps further into the room and sits down on a deep green leather couch. I join her, leaving enough room between us in an effort not to intimidate her.
“So why are you here?” she asks.
Her bluntness surprises me, but I can’t blame her given the one-eighty I’ve done with my attitude toward her.
“I’m here to apologize for the way I’ve treated you since you returned.”
Her jaw slackens and her cocoa eyes grow wide. “Wow.”
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did toward you and said those things, and for that I’m sorry.” My throat feels like it’s closing in as I try to push the words out. “I was hoping we could start fresh.”
She stares at me for a second and I’m fairly sure she’s going to tell me to go to hell, but then she blinks rapidly for a second and speaks. “I’m floored. I got the impression the great Garrin Stone doesn’t apologize.”
Of course she’s not going to make this easy for me. Why should I expect otherwise?
“I say sorry when I’m wrong, which doesn’t happen often.”
A small smile tugs at one corner of her lips. I might be getting somewhere.
“Why did you act that way toward me?” she asks after a moment, shifting in her seat to cross her legs and face me fully.
I lean back into the leather couch. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” she says in a soft voice that holds more vulnerability than I would ever show anyone. Isn’t that the difference between us? I’m the angry beast and she’s the innocent princess.
I push a hand through my hair. At least I can be honest about this part. “Back in high school… I thought…” Christ, this is harder than I’m prepared for. I managed to get the apology out, which was a lie—surely the truth can’t be harder. “I thought there was something between us. I liked you—a lot—and I thought you felt the same. Then you agreed to go on a date with Asher. I felt betrayed, like you’d led me on and played a game with me.” I haven’t been looking at her as I spoke, but I turn my head to look her in the eyes now. “I don’t like being a pawn in someone’s game. Those feelings carried over, I guess, and I was caught off guard when I saw you, so I lashed out.”
She’s silent for a minute and then starts laughing and stands, pacing around in front of me. My forehead wrinkles as I watch her, wondering if she’s completely lost it. She keeps laughing to herself and pacing and I start to get pissed off. After everything I said, this is her reaction?
“I don’t think it’s funny,” I grind out between gritted teeth.
She stops and turns to face me. “I’m sorry. It’s not that it’s funny that you were hurt. It’s not. It’s just… I did like you. Truth is I was totally into you and hoped you felt the same, but then I heard that you had asked Tara Westover to the prom and I was crushed. I’d held out hope that you might ask me. So when Asher asked if I wanted to go out, I agreed even though he had a reputation. I just wanted to forget all about you.”
I stand from the couch and cover the distance between us in two long strides. She’s a fucking liar. “I didn’t ask Tara Westover to prom. I didn’t even end up going with anyone.”
A crease forms between her brows. “You didn’t?”
“No.”