34

RICHARD

THE CONDO WAS SILENT WHEN we arrived. I set down our bags and looked at the mess I had left behind.

“I should have cleaned up. I was anxious to get to you.”

She walked around, picking up a couple bottles. “You need to stop drinking so much scotch.”

The words were out before I could stop them. “You need to stop leaving me.”

Her eyes widened.

I tugged on my cowlick. “Shit. Home five minutes and the asshole comes out.”

“I’m going to give you that one. I shouldn’t have run. I should have stayed and talked it out with you.”

Reaching out, I brought her into my arms. “You had no reason to trust me, then. I’ll make sure you won’t have that excuse next time. Not,” I added, “that there is going to be a next time.”

She nuzzled close. “No.” “Then we’re good?” “Yep.”

Glass crunched under my feet when I moved, and I looked down with a grimace. “Careful.”

“Another asshole moment?”

“A big one,” I acknowledged. “I was angry at you—but it passed quickly.”

“I think you were allowed.”

“I’ll get so