“Why not?” she asked. He lived here now. Why was he living like he was crashing at someone else’s place?

His eyes rose to meet hers and flitted away. Then he shrugged in response.

She accepted the mug o’ wine he offered and leaned against a wall. Seth stood by the sink, starting down at his wine. He was probably becoming irritated with the silence stretching on between them. She was the one who told him that she wanted to talk, but her mouth was glued shut with quaking nerves. She couldn’t blow this. Get it together, Tara.

What he’d really wanted to say to her on the stairway was … Yes, I still love you. More than life. But fear clogged his throat. Why had she asked that? Did she want reassurance that he was over her, so she could go on with her life with a clear conscience?

He didn’t know why she was here. Had her guilt prompted her to fly across the ocean to apologize to him? He didn’t know if he was ready for her. Ready to convince her that they were meant to be together. He knew in his heart that she loved him, too, but what if she didn’t love him enough to risk getting hurt again? If he failed, he didn’t know if he would get another chance to fight for her.

It was agony waiting for her to speak. He wished he could just kiss her until neither of them could breathe. His memories and dreams hadn’t done her justice. She was breathtaking, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling to her lips again and again.

Her lips at the moment were puckered adorably, blowing on the mug. Then she crinkled her nose and shook her head no as if deciding against blowing on the room-temperature wine. With a quiet, frustrated sigh, Tara chugged her wine like it was one of her brews on a hot day.

He could go on staring at her all night. God, he’d missed her so much. A part of him still thought he might be imagining all of this. But her essence, her spirit, filled his apartment with life. Hope, timid and uncertain, fluttered inside him.

“Why are you here, Tara?”

She jumped as though she’d forgotten he was there. She stole a glance at him without answering, and came up to the sink. She rinsed her cup and looked around for a towel to dry her hands. When she found none, she wiped her hands on her jeans. Her form-fitting jeans. They looked fantastic on her, hugging all her curves. He wished he was her jeans.

Without a word, Tara walked out to the living room and Seth followed. Not only because she expected him to, but because he couldn’t help himself. He needed to stay in her orbit. When she reached the middle of the living room, she turned to face him. She didn’t startle as much this time, but by the widening of her eyes, it was obvious he’d been following her too closely again.