But she didn’t believe it.

She hadn’t had the heart to throw out the lilacs. She’d tried to. She’d even stood holding them over the trash can, weeping like a fool. But the thought of parting with them had been too much. Now she tormented herself with the fragile scent whenever she came downstairs.

She thought about taking a trip—anywhere. She certainly had the vacation time coming, but it didn’t seem fair to leave Lori in the lurch, especially since Lori had added wedding plans to her work load.

A lot of good she was doing Lori, or the show, this way, she thought. But the problems of the people in Millbrook seemed terribly petty when compared to hers. Too bad she couldn’t write herself out of this one, she thought, as she stood in the kitchen, trying to talk herself into fixing something to eat.

Well, she’d certainly made the grade, Bess told herself, and pressed her fingers against her swollen eyes. She’d fallen in love and had her heart broken. Great research for the next troubled relationship she invented for the television audience.

The hell with food. She was going to go up to bed and will herself to sleep. Tomorrow she would find some way to put her life back together.

When she stepped out of the kitchen, what was left of her life shattered at her feet.

He was standing by the table, one hand brushing over the lilacs. All he did was look at her, turn his head and look, and she nearly crumpled to her knees.

“What are you doing here?” The pain made her voice razor-sharp.

“I still have my key.” He lowered his hand slowly. Her eyes were still puffy from her last bout of tears, and there were smudges of fatigue under them. Nothing that had been said to him, nothing he’d said to himself, had lashed more sharply.

“You didn’t have to bring it by.” If composure was all she had left, she would cling to it. “You could have dropped it in the mail. But thanks.” Her smile was so cold it hurt her jaw. “If that’s all, I’m in a hurry. I was just on my way up to change before I go out.”

“You can’t look at me when you lie.” He said it half to himself, remembering how her eyes had drifted away from his face when she said she didn’t love him.

She forced her gaze back to his, held it steady. “What do you want, Alexi?”

“A great many things. Maybe too many things. But first, for you to forgive me.”

Her face crumpled at that. She put a hand up to cover it, knowing it was too late. “Leave me alone.”

“Milaya, let me—”

“Don’t.” She cringed away, crossing her arms over herself in self-defense, and his hands stopped an inch away. There was an odd catch in his breath as he drew them back and let them fall to his sides.

“I won’t touch you.” His voice was quiet and strained. “Please, let me say what I’ve come to say.”