He didn't leave, though. Only rested his hands on the bar. She backed up and stood behind it, so afraid if he touched her, she'd let him get away with murder.
"Merina."
"You're not the only one who's broken," she said, her voice hard. "You broke me."
His face melted into a mask of hurt. The exact emotion she'd wanted to see the night she stood in his hotel shower. When she got dressed to leave his suite, the divorce papers in hand. Instead, he'd been stoic and cold, while inside she'd been dying. She couldn't afford to hear his excuses and reasoning now. She had to keep climbing out of the pit, not sink back into it.
"If you're here for closure, I'm not interested," she said. "You might feel better after you say whatever it is you came here to say, but I'll only feel worse." She pointed at him with the wineglass, holding it out like a weapon to keep him from coming closer. "Finish your unfinished business on your own. Or in the company of a bottle of scotch. But…I'm not…I can't listen while you explain why you couldn't…"
Her words faltered as Reese closed the gap between them, one slow step at a time. He took the wine bottle and glass from her hand, and placed them on the bar.
"I'm not ready to forgive you," she continued. Desperately. "And…and even if I was, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of—" He placed his palm on her face, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer her, only stared down at her mouth.
"Reese?"
"You still love me. I wasn't sure until I walked in, but I can see it."
She shook her head. No. No. She couldn't accept this. Not after an agonizing month and an even more agonizing last couple of days. She'd made the decision to kill off the part of herself that still loved him… Only it hadn't died. She would find a way to let it go, though. She would. Because Reese didn't fall in love and she couldn't be in love alone.
"I don't," she whispered.
"Yes, you do," he said.
She opened her mouth to argue, but he didn't give her a chance.
"You were right. I am a chickenshit. Too terrified to try, so I thought cutting us short would be less painful. But it's not painful, Merina. It's worse. I haven't felt a goddamn thing in weeks." He rested one hand over her heart. No. Over her tattoo. "Until right now. I feel this."
His voice cracked and she lifted her eyes to his. Dampness from his hand seeped through the material of her shirt.
She shivered, but not because she was cold.
Do you feel this?" he asked.
She bit down on her cheek to keep from crying, her eyes sliding shut in bald surrender. She felt it. God, how she felt it.
Soft kisses brushed her closed lids, first one, then the other. His warm breath in her ear, he said, "You feel it. I know you do. I feel it."
"You can't…" Finally. Her voice. Thank God. For a moment she thought she'd stand here completely mute and let his words cover her like a warm blanket.
"Can't what? Love you?" He drew back so he could conquer her soul with his navy blues. "Too late. I love you. I've loved you even longer than I dared admit. And you still love me, Merina."
"I don't."
"It's okay." He smiled gently, looking handsome.
"It's not!" she said, tears of anger, of confusion streaming down her cheeks. Because she did love him, dammit. She loved him, but she hated him for doing this. "It's not okay."
Weakly, she shoved his chest with her hands but he only pulled her closer.
"I missed a board meeting today. I missed a lot of meetings. A lot of work."
She frowned.
"Laser focused on my legacy, I would have done anything to attain CEO. Like marry a woman and threaten to gut her hotel because I knew how much it meant to her. But now I have what I want, and without that woman by my side, my legacy means nothing. I was working so hard to fulfill my destiny, I failed to see that you, Merina, are a part of it. Without you, I have nothing. Without you, I am nothing."
She simply stared.
"The day you stormed into my office with that"—he pointed at the doorknob—"you changed me. I was never the same after you. But I'm stubborn, and I'm stupid. I let myself believe letting you go was better for both of us. No matter how much it hurt me, I knew you were better off without me."
She wanted to be.
"But you're not, are you?" He touched her face again. "Did I really break you, Merina? Won't you let me fix it? Fix us?"
"I'm terrified," she admitted, her voice choked with unshed tears. "I'm so scared you'll freak out and leave again. I can't take it. I won't go through this again."
"You won't have to."
"I don't know that." She couldn't trust that he wouldn't shut her out all over again.
He licked his lips, nodding at his shoes. When his shoulders rose and dropped with a deep breath, she could see he understood where she was coming from.
"I need to be rebuilt," he muttered.
"Sorry?"
"Like the Van Heusen." He lowered onto one of the barstools and looked around the room, at the ceiling medallions, the shelves lined with bottles, the antique sconces. He put his fingers on the brass doorknob. "I was gutted before I met you. I was a shell, my foundation shaky. I'm better than the man you met the first time. Because of you, I'm better."
She thought of Arnold's words about his wife. I wasn't this man before I knew her.
But that didn't change one indelible fact.
"I can't fix you," she said.
"I don't want you to fix me," Reese said. "I want you to stand beside me. You see beauty in this place, and you made me see it too. You see charm where there are cracks. I'm cracked in a hundred places, but the biggest one happened when I saw your ring on top of those papers."
She told herself not to go to him but found she was drawn in by what he said. This strong, cocky, coldhearted billionaire had been softened by her. He was asking for a chance. The same man who looked at this room with disgust now held nothing but warmth in his eyes.