Epilogue
Tiffany glanced at the clock for what had to be the millionth time since lunch, and noted six minutes had passed. Her day ended at five, but she still had one new patient to see today. She tried not to think of Matt. Attempted not to remember their last words to each other. Focusing on the lovemaking hurt even more.
Three days had passed since she’d left him alone in the hotel room.
Had he gotten out okay? Could he dress on his own? Had he needed to call for help? Did he miss her? Hate her?
The questions were endless. Guilt filled her at leaving him, but when he’d struck out at her, he’d hit a chord she hadn’t bothered to protect. He’d sneered at her, insulting her, and she’d lost it. After escaping, she’d cooled off, recognizing his actions for what they were. Shame at his weaknesses, and embarrassment at her seeing it.
Still angry, she’d headed back to the hotel, worried he’d need help. But her knocks hadn’t gotten any response, and she’d already turned in her key. Well, she’d thrown it on the desk and called out her room number as she’d run out the door. She’d gone down to the front desk, subjected herself to the smirks on the clerks’ faces, and asked them to call him to insure he didn’t need assistance. No need, he’d already checked out.
He hadn’t stopped haunting her since.
A knock sounded on the door, and she glanced down at her desk to check the name of her next patient. Staff Sergeant Matthew Solomon.
Her heart skittered to a stop. Could it be him outside her door? Had he sought her out? If so, why?
She smoothed her hair—just in case—and rushed to the door to swing it open. Heart racing, she smiled while she focused on her patient. Who stood in front of her. And whom she’d never seen before.
Matt hadn’t come to find her.
Her smile wavered, and her throat constricted. Blinking, she motioned her patient inside.
How foolish to think he’d want to see her again.
***
Matt watched the door, waiting for her to appear. He’d been told she ended her day at five. The clock said it had reached quarter after. Her last appointment for the day had left twenty minutes before, yet she hadn’t come out. As he sat, surrounded by doctors and soldiers, his anxiety level rose.
“Fuck this,” he murmured under his breath, wheeling forward. The guard—secretary—had gone home ten minutes ago. She’d studied him, but hadn’t bothered him as he sat like a sentinel outside her work. And what he sought rested right beyond the door.
He took a steadying breath, and pushed it open. She sat at her desk, staring off into the distance, a melancholy expression on her face. Her shoulders drooped, and she twirled her glasses while nestling her chin in her palm.
His heart ached at the sight of her, begging for redemption.
For forgiveness.
She didn’t look his way, but continued to stare at the wall. “You can leave, Bridget. I’ll head out in a few.”
He cleared his throat. She jumped and looked at him. Her jaw dropped and she cast a hurried glance over his body. Hope sprang to life in his chest. Had she missed him—maybe as much as he missed her? She staggered to her feet, and her glasses clattered on the desk.
“Matt?”
He tugged on his collar. “Is Bridget your secretary? If so, she left a while ago.”
She paled and nodded. Smoothing her skirt down, she headed toward him but froze mid-step, leaning on the side of her desk. She cocked a brow, swallowed, and asked, “Why are you here, Matt?”
He cleared his throat, running his fingers over his head. He’d found her. Now came the chance to grovel and plead for forgiveness. He’d been obsessed with her ever since she left, couldn’t get her out of his fucking mind. He’d been an ass, true. But if she gave him another chance, he’d do his best to make it up to her. Every single day.
“Look, I wanted to apologize. I never should have said—”
“Apology accepted. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t have to come all this way to say sorry.” She turned her back to him, gathering her glasses, phone, and purse. She placed the latter on her shoulder, turning to him expectantly.
He’d been dismissed. His heart sped up while he floundered for the right words. The words that could maybe make her stay.
“No, wait. I-I-I—” He slammed his hands on the armrest on his chair, making her jerk back and look at him in concern.
“What’s wrong, Matt?”
“I can’t fucking think around you, that’s what’s wrong. All day long, I practiced my speech in my head, over and over again. I had all the right things to say. All the words planned out.” He pointed at her, dismayed to see how much his hand trembled. “But when I see you, all thought leaves me. All I can think of is how beautiful you are. And how much I missed you. And how you deserve so much better than me.”
Her eyes widened, and shone with unshed tears. “Matt, I don’t know what you want from me. You told me to leave. Insulted me, even. I felt bad after I left, and came back. You were already gone.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she nibbled on her lower lip.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just—I felt so embarrassed. And ashamed. I never meant to fall asleep. Didn’t want you to see that side of me.”
“I get it. I’m a therapist, remember? I figured it out after I cooled off.” She shrugged, stepping closer to him. “But I still don’t know what you want from me.”
He clammed up, at a loss for words once more. Anxiety made sweat creep down his spine and his pulse race. How could he ask her to give him a chance? To be hindered by a crippled man the rest of her life? What woman would want to be burdened by him?
Yet, she’d said she could care less if he ever walked again. Had called all his hideous scars beautiful. She’d termed him brave.
A hero, for Christ’s sake.
Could she look past all the negatives and take a chance on a broken man like him?
“I don’t know. I want to see you again. I feel depraved asking, since you sought out a one-night stand. And I'm not a catch. I might never walk again. Might remain crippled. But, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She cried out, and jumped into his lap. Surprised, he closed his arms around her. She cradled his face and crushed her lips to his. Warmth flowed through him at her embrace, making him wonder if life would be all right after all.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete screw up.
She pulled away, locking gazes with him. Her eyes glowed like emeralds in the sun.
I should buy her some.
“You fool, you’re more of a catch than me. I’d love to see you again.”
“More of a catch than you?” He brushed her hair behind her ear, smiling. “Are you delusional, woman? You should see a therapist. I heard they’re great.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” She leaned into his touch, rubbing against it like a cat hungry for attention. “Sorry I threw water at you, by the way.”
“Eh, I deserved it.” He grinned and kissed her nose. “Want to go out to eat, on a real date?”
She hopped off his lap, and collected her belongings before turning to him. “Absolutely. As long as, after dinner, we end up at your house. Or mine.”
Worry of his dreams scaring her melted away until he couldn’t remember ever having cared. In its place, excitement and lust filled him. He held the door open for her, unable to believe how damn…happy he had become.
And hope was there too. He couldn’t ignore it.
“I think we can work something out,” he assured her. “And I owe you a pair of red panties.” He winked, watching her walk out into the lobby. Her laughter tinkled over him like a soothing balm. She waited for him to clear the waiting room, and all the chairs blocking his way then she walked behind him, resting her fingers on the handlebars.
She didn’t push him. Instead, she walked with him, letting him guide her to the exit.
While they waited for the elevator, she leaned down, whispering in his ear, “I’m wearing white panties today. Wait until you see them.”