Page 33 of Winning Back His Wife
“Yeah, issues with me.” If Sarah was trying to sound lighthearted, she hadn’t succeeded and that bothered Cullen even more. “But I got over him. Moved on. Met you.”
The conversation they’d had outside the wedding chapel in Las Vegas rushed back.
Why don’t we go inside and make things official? If we elope, you won’t forget about me when we get back to Seattle or leave me standing at the altar after we’ve dated for years and I’ve planned a spectacular wedding for us.
Cullen remembered his reply.
I would never leave you like that.
Guilt lodged in his throat. He had left her. The minute she mentioned divorce he’d hightailed it out of the apartment. Had mentioning divorce been a test? To see how committed he was? Part of him wanted to be angry if she’d been testing without his knowing it, yet...even if she hadn’t been doing that, he’d failed. He’d run the second he had a chance. No wonder she’d freaked out on him whenever he tried to contact her about the divorce. “I’m sorry.”
“No apologies needed. Getting jilted happened way before you.”
“I know, but I left you, too. If I’d known...”
“Would it have changed anything?” she asked.
He thought long and hard. Things hadn’t been going well between them. She’d been pulling away from him. He hadn’t like how out of control he felt around her. “Probably not.”
Sarah’s lip quivered. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“I appreciate your telling me about this.”
A marble statue had a warmer smile than hers. “Better late than never.”
Except it was too late to do anything about it now. Or was it?
CHAPTER SEVEN
WOULD IT HAVE changed anything?
Probably not.
Cullen’s two words reaffirmed Sarah’s actions of a year ago. He’d even apologized. Something she’d never expected him to do. She should feel relieved she’d been spot-on about their relationship. Marriage had never tied them to each other as a couple, as husband and wife. Instead of relief, a heavy sadness bore down on her. She leaned back on the couch, looking at the wood-beamed ceiling.
“Need a refill?” Cullen asked from the kitchen.
“No, thanks.” She flexed her left hand to stop it from shaking. “My cup is full.”
She’d known things were over between them. She was used to the heartache and resentment over her failed marriage, so she wasn’t sure why what Cullen had said bothered her so much.
Face it. Some people weren’t cut out for marriage. Like her. Her parents. Must be something in the DNA.
She glanced at the cover of the bridal magazine. The beautiful model dressed in a couture gown with perfectly applied makeup and coiffed hair glowed with a radiance Sarah envied. The woman wasn’t a bride, but more thought had gone into the carefully executed photo shoot than into their eloping.
Her appetite disappeared.
Cullen returned to the living room with a steaming cup of coffee. “You look better today.”
“I’m getting there.” Physically, at least. Emotionally was another story. She rubbed her thumb against her fingertips. “You must be tired after working all night. Go to bed. I’ll be fine while you sleep.”
He raised his cup of coffee. “I got my second wind.”
Maybe she should take a nap and give them a break from each other. She nearly laughed. Running off was Cullen’s typical avoidance tactic, not hers.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
He’d been honest before. It was her turn. She met his gaze. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
He sipped his coffee. “Where would I go?”
“Anywhere I’m not.”
“That’s—”
“What you used to do,” she interrupted. “Whenever things were really good between us or when we’d disagree, you always disappeared to the hospital, some mountain-rescue thing, wherever else you could go.”
He tugged at his polo-shirt collar. “I only did what I needed to do.”
“Exactly.”
She had never entered into the equation. It was almost as if he were different people. The Doctor. The Mountain Rescuer. The Lover. The Husband was the one role he hadn’t seemed to embrace.
“I don’t want to argue,” he said.
“We’re not arguing,” she countered. “We’re having a discussion.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Let’s take a short walk outside instead.”
She drummed her fingers on the sofa arm. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Running away.”
“I invited you on a walk.”
