Table for Two. Jennifer McKenzie
him and his so-far weak attempts to win over Mal—if trying to talk with her at the wedding and a few phone calls could be considered attempts. “I’d go to the spa for Mal. Mud mask, apricot scrub. The works.”
Owen stared at him. “Who are you?”
Travis shrugged. “Just a guy trying to have a conversation with your sister.” A guy who was going to have to step up his game if he wanted to succeed. “So, you think I should invite Mal to the spa? Or maybe just casually show up?” When they all just stared at him, he shrugged. “Too creepy? Not creepy enough?”
“Just the right amount of creepy.” Owen leaned against the padded booth back. “But that won’t work with Mal.”
No, it wouldn’t, but it was better than doing nothing. Travis rubbed his thumb along the edge of the table again. Thinking. At one time, he’d have instinctively known what to do, how to get back in Mal’s good graces, back in her life. But that was before. This new Mal was cooler and yet more fragile. As though she might shatter with a careless touch.
“I do have one suggestion.” Owen sipped his water instead of revealing his thought, clearly enjoying the moment. “Since you’re just a guy who wants to have a conversation, maybe you should have this conversation with her instead of us? Not that I don’t love your wallowing.”
“I don’t wallow,” Travis said, feeling the need to defend himself.
He was met with silence, but suddenly he didn’t care, his gaze caught on the sight of Mal coming toward them, toward him. His heart lodged in his throat. Had she ditched the pretty boy? But she bypassed them with a nod and headed down the short hall that led to the washroom.
Travis was pushing out of the booth before she was even out of sight.
“Where are you going?” Owen called after him. Travis merely waved him off, eyes focused on the path Mal had taken. This avoidance of hers had gone on long enough. They needed to talk. He needed to know.
He picked a spot in the hall, leaned his shoulder against the wall and waited. A few other patrons passed him, barely flicking a glance his way as they went about their own business, but for the most part the hall remained empty, which suited him just fine.
His pulse jumped when Mal reappeared. Even when she scowled at him. “Travis. I don’t have time.”
“Make some.” He straightened up. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes darted past his shoulder, but she didn’t move to go around him. “I’m on a date.”
“I’m aware of that.” His entire body practically strained at the idea. At how wrong it was.
“Then I don’t see what we have to talk about.” She crossed her arms.
“We’re in the same city. We work in the same industry. We’re going to continue bumping into each other.” He still wasn’t sure how she would feel when she found out he’d purchased The Blue Mermaid. Happy that it was going to receive the love and attention it deserved? Or upset that it was him giving the love and attention?
“So?” Mal put her hands on her hips. Her red lips pouted at him.
“So I want us to...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. The truth was he wanted them to be okay, but that was only part of it. He wanted much more than that. “I want to apologize.”
“Travis.”
“Hear me out.” He’d just keep talking until she did. “I understand now why you had to come back. I should have supported you.” He saw the dip in her shoulders. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
There was only silence. He heard her breath hitch and then sync with his, instinctively they mirrored each other, finding common ground in their bodies while they struggled with their emotions.
“Why are you telling me this?” She looked up at him, her eyes huge and pained.
Travis wanted to cup her cheek, wanted to stroke away the hurts with the rub of his thumb, but the moment felt too delicate, too fragile. “Because I’m back.” And she was a big part of the reason why.
She blinked and then straightened. Away from him. “You figured we could just pick up where we left off?”
“No.” He hadn’t thought that. Maybe hoped, but logically he understood that notion wasn’t based in reality. “But whatever was between us, it’s still there, Mal. You can’t deny that.”
“Not for me.” He noticed she didn’t quite meet his eyes this time.
“Do you mean that?” He kept his tone low, private, and didn’t reach for her, though his arms longed to wrap her up and pull her against him.
Her throat bobbed and she swayed on her heels. Her long lashes fluttered down against her cheeks. When she looked up her eyes were empty. It hit him right in the gut. That blank look of indifference. “I have to.”
Which was not the same as saying it was true. “Mal.” He did reach for her then, longing for the familiar feel of her body, the scent of her skin.
She sidestepped away. “I’m on a date, Travis. I have to go.”
His arms dropped to his sides. Trying to force the conversation now wouldn’t get him anywhere. He knew that. “We still need to talk.” He knew he’d been wrong about some things, but she’d been wrong, too. She shouldn’t have made the unilateral decision to relocate to Vancouver without talking to him. He’d thought they were a team, a united pair who looked out for each other. They needed to talk.
She didn’t respond, merely ducked her head and moved past him back down the hallway toward her pretty-boy date.
His eyes tracked her until she was out of sight. Then he took a few deep breaths before following the same path. Her citrus scent tickled his nose and his memory. The way she used to smile at him as if he was the only person in the room, the way her body melded to his when he kissed the side of her neck, the bond that seemed to flow between them no matter how far apart they were.
As he stepped back into the main room of the lounge, his eyes found her. As he sat back down in the booth, he saw her looking back before she turned around and said something to the man sitting across from her. And Travis knew, no matter what she said or didn’t say, the bond was still there.
And they still needed to talk.
Travis kept an eye on Mal, and the door, taking note when she finally left with her date. He waited another few minutes, long enough not to seem obvious, before he pushed himself out of the booth and pulled a few bills out of his wallet to cover his meal.
“Your money’s no good here,” Owen called after him as he walked toward the exit, but Travis wasn’t listening. He had something more important to do and it didn’t include wallowing.
He’d barely closed the door of the cab behind him before he dialed Mal’s number on his cell. She’d gotten a new number once she’d returned to North America, but Owen had given him both the phone number and her address, with the understanding that Travis would say it had been Donovan who’d spilled the beans. He didn’t expect her to pick up and she didn’t. So he left a voice mail.
“Hey, Mal. It’s me. Travis.” God, he hated saying that. Like he was so far gone from her life that he was no longer known by voice recognition alone. “Listen, we need to talk. I’m on my way to your place. If you’d rather not talk now, call me back.”
He clicked off. He didn’t expect her to call back because he didn’t expect her to listen to the message. Which made it cowardly and a little dastardly to say that she should call back to cancel, but things were nearing a level of desperation.
Hell, who was he kidding? He was already desperate.
Desperate to see her, desperate to talk, desperate to make up. His stomach tensed as the cab neared her apartment in the downtown core.