The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,104
hesitated. What on earth could he possibly want? But curiosity got the better of her. She held the door wider, indicating he could come in. “Sure.”
He paced the foyer, unsure where to go. “You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” she said, indicating the direction of the kitchen.
“So this is what the divorce settlement bought?” he said as he looked around. “Nice house.”
“Thanks.” She put the coffee on. “Adrian, you clearly didn’t just drop by to see how I was living. So let’s have it. Why are you here?”
He paced again. “Sarah . . . I did want to see you again . . . I’ve been thinking about you a great deal lately.”
“What does your lovely wife think about your . . . preoccupation?” She raised an elegant brow in disdain.
His face hardened. The beautiful surgeon’s hand combed through his hair again. One corner of his mouth turned up into what could only be called an ironic smile. “My lovely wife is having an affair.”
Sarah struggled not to crack the same ironic smile. “This is what some would call poetic justice.” Did she say that out loud? “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes . . . I guess I deserve that,” he said, taking the proffered cup of coffee. Black and robust, the way he liked it.
“No wonder you look like hell.”
“Well, that and a fourteen-hour surgery I just finished.”
“Adrian. That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here. Did you come looking for a marriage counselor, a sympathetic ear, what?”
“I don’t know.” He turned his back to her, his voice barely audible. “I just knew I had to see you again. My car seemed to head in this direction of its own volition. I didn’t even know which house was yours – I just guessed.”
Sarah was tired of trying to pry his motivation out of him, so she just waited.
“I guess I came to apologize . . . for everything. The lies, the arrogance, the affairs, the way I treated you.”
She couldn’t help the cynicism that crept into her voice, “The good doctor got a taste of his own bitter medicine, and had an epiphany.”
He turned to look at her again, only there was pain in his pale blue eyes.
“Water under the bridge, Adrian.” She shrugged.
He strode over to her. “Is it?”
She backed up against the counter and froze as he raised his hand to cup her face. She saw it coming, but couldn’t get out of the way. He pulled her roughly to him and kissed her, his lips hard and demanding, tasting of strong coffee.
She tried to push him away, but the harder she pushed, the tighter he held her. His lips crushed hers, as if he were taking out his anger and frustration with the two-timing Cheese on her. When his other hand slid up her ribcage to grope her, she bit him. Hard. And to her satisfaction, tasted blood.
“Ow!” His hand came up to his now-bleeding lower lip. “Goddammit!” He stepped back.
“How dare you!” Sarah moved around the other side of the island, putting it between them. “How dare you think you could assuage your bruised ego by attempting to seduce me!”
“Ow.” He dampened a paper towel and held it to his lip, seemingly oblivious to her rant. “Damn, Sarah. Did you have to bite me so hard? I think I may need stitches.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re a surgeon. You can stitch it up yourself. Now get out!” she ground out, wielding a plastic spatula like it was Excalibur.
That’s when he laughed. A deep-belly laugh that had him doubled over, and had her feeling ridiculous.
“Oh God, Sarah. I’m so sorry. Sorry for the kiss, sorry I made you feel you had to defend your honor with a . . . deadly spatula.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender then, turned, leaning against the counter with his head in his hands. “The trouble is, I love her, and I don’t know what to do.” His laughter was gone, and in its place was the voice of a man whose heart was breaking.
“Adrian . . . I’m confused as to why you came here, but if you came looking for advice . . . I don’t have much to give, other than to say that if you truly love her, you’ll find a way to work this out . . . confront her, forgive her, give her a second chance.”