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Brennan was running late getting to the Broadway store. He burst out his kitchen door with his briefcase unzipped and his tie half-knotted.
But all thoughts of the time, his conference call with a vendor in Atlanta, and the fishing waders he wanted replaced flew out of his brain when he looked across the driveway and saw Erica standing in the frame of her own kitchen door.
She stopped as suddenly as he had.
Brennan's heart took a running leap and then kept galloping. He was still reeling from the revelations of his support group three days ago. He was in love with Erica. He'd been in love with her for a long time but had held back because he was still listening to the inner voice that had crippled him since he was a teenager, the one that taunted him he wasn't good enough.
Apparently, he was still listening to that voice for he stood there, completely tongue-tied.
"Uh, hi," Erica spoke. She'd been wearing a big smile when Brennan had first burst out his door. The smile had disappeared. Her face now expressed wariness.
Brennan couldn't blame her for caution. Who knew what insult he might throw at her, judging by those he'd tossed in their last conversation?
As he stood there, still dumb, regret overwhelmed him. He'd messed up so much. Was there any way he could repair the damage? The old fear rose up and shouted no. A large lump in his throat made it hard to finally reply, "Good morning."
She cleared her throat and straightened her back. "On your way to work?" She appeared to want to act as though they were normal neighbors.
Brennan reached toward his half-done tie. "Uh, yes. I'm a little late, obviously. Uh, and you?" Thank God he wasn't so self-centered he'd forgotten to ask. "Are you off to see a client?"
A pale ghost of her earlier smile played with her mouth. "Sort of. Maybe even better than a client."
"Oh. Uh, good." Perhaps her business had taken off. Brennan hoped so. And yet, deep down, he realized he felt fear. If Erica succeeded financially, she wouldn't need him. She'd have no reason to have anything more to do with him.
Blinking, Brennan was shocked by his own thoughts. Is that how he'd been reasoning all this time? Had he imagined he could only get Erica to be with him if she needed him?
Clearly, his monster voice had been alive and well.
His support group had nailed it. He'd not been operating like a man who was fully recovered. Instead, he'd been repeatedly hearing the door Lois had shut in his face.
It was time to start listening to a different tune. And he knew where to start that song.
Taking a deep breath, Brennan stepped into his driveway, moving slowly toward her. "Listen, I've been wanting to apologize. For that proposal. It was...inadequate." To put it mildly.
Her small smile faded, and her brows drew down. "O-kay." Her body language was subtle but clear. He should come no closer than the halfway mark.
Brennan stopped and swallowed. Maybe he couldn't go more than halfway physically, but he owed her more than halfway emotionally. Hell, he owed that to himself.
So he went ahead and leaped. "I wouldn't want the kind of relationship with you that my proposal intended. Business only. Or with me being top dog— Anyway, that's not how I actually feel about you."
She stood very still, simply staring at him.
"I would want us equals. On equal ground." Brennan's heart was racing faster than ever. He felt like he was running toward a cliff, but he'd set this course and he was determined to go on. "I—I want to tell you that day—that day that we— I want to tell you I don't think it was a mistake at all. I think it was the most marvelous experience I've ever had in my life. I was the mistake. So I guess what I'm trying to say is—is—" Hell, what was he trying to say? "I'm sorry," Brennan finished raggedly.
He'd meant to tell her more than that, but Erica did not look receptive toward what he'd so far spewed forth. She probably hated his guts. Hadn't she been very careful to avoid him?
Finally, in a small voice, she said, "Okay."
Okay? What did that mean? Did she accept his apology? Dare he go on? He wanted to convey how much he wanted to start over, try a real relationship with her—one that might very well end up in marriage after they actually got to know one another.
But he needed more than 'okay' to say any of that. So he stood there with his heart beating years off his life and waited. He could not take this further without some sign from her, no matter how subtle. She had to indicate she was open to hearing more.
No such sign occurred. She simply looked at him with very wide eyes.
"I...have to go to my appointment," she finally said. Her voice was small, as if he'd hit her.
Damn. He hadn't wanted to hurt her!
"Sure. Oh, sure." He stepped back. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset." But she looked shell-shocked. With a little laugh, she put a hand up to her forehead. "It's been a weird couple of days."
And he'd clearly just made it weirder.
He held up his hands. "Time out. I get it." Oh, yes, he got it. And now he had to remember another one of the twelve steps of the recovery model: let go. Whatever might or might not happen between himself and Erica, he'd done all he could. It was not in his hands any more.
It was difficult, but he took another step back.
The grateful look Erica shot him almost made the effort worthwhile. "Thank you. I— Goodbye."
Goodbye. As she got into her car and started the motor, Brennan wondered if that was a forever sort of goodbye or the sort that only applied to right now.
The question plagued him for a long while afterward.