“W-what?” She could hardly believe her ears. “Stalking me?” So that was him all those times she’d thought she’d spotted him? “Why are you stalking me?”
“I’m not really stalking,” he said, glancing around and lowering his voice. “Not in a creepy, illegal way. I just miss the goddamn hell out of you and thought maybe if I got to see you from afar, now and then, it’d hurt less. Still fucking hurts quite a bit, though.”
She stared.
“Say something.”
“I-I don’t know what to say, Rob.” He was here, watching her? He was hurting? Did that mean he missed her? Or was he just pissed about how things had turned out? For days—no, weeks—she’d thought of things she would say to him if she ever saw him again. Now he was right here, inches from her . . . and her mind went blank.
Just completely, utterly blank.
The look on his face was a little disappointed. His mouth curved. “I’ll leave you alone, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I scared you.”
He turned away and she grabbed at his shirt. “Wait!”
He stopped. Turned back around to her.
“I’m not scared,” she said in a small voice. She was, though. She was terrified, and her heart was beating like a rabbit’s. She wasn’t scared of him . . . just of being hurt again. Of getting her hopes up only to have them destroyed once more.
Rob waited. Looked down at her hand, still fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
Oh. She released it and flexed her hand, feeling a little stupid. She needed to say something. Anything. Get the conversation rolling. “I saw you. In a magazine.”
The look on his face grew shuttered. “Christ. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his neck again. “Whatever it was, it was probably lies. They make up all kinds of shit to sell papers. I haven’t touched another woman since I last saw you.”
Her eyes widened. “No, not like that! It was good.” Then, she peered at him. “Who did the tabloids say you’re dating?”
“Some D-list chick with big fake cans.” He shuddered. “Horrible. Not true at all. She’s just in one of the specials that we’ve been running lately.” He paused, and then corrected himself. “They’ve.”
“I saw information about the sale. Is it true? You sold The Man Channel?”
“All of it,” he agreed, his gaze intense on her. “Every affiliate, every video, every show, magazine, anything even remotely associated with Cannon Networks. It’s all gone.” He raised a hand and mimicked a firecracker exploding. “Poof. Done.”
He was smiling as he said it. What did that mean? Why did that give her such hope? “And . . . you gave away all the money?”
“I did. I didn’t want to keep any of it. Tainted money and all that. Seemed wrong to profit off of it.”
“Tainted?” Was he just saying words that she wanted to hear? She didn’t know, and was afraid to ask. Marjorie clutched her purse strap harder, as if it could hold up her weak knees. “Are you broke now?”
“Broke?” Rob’s eyes widened and he laughed. “No, I’m not broke. I had a lot of money socked into investments and real estate, too. I’m not as disgustingly rich as I was before, but I’m not broke by a long shot, sweetheart.”
That made her feel better. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out to him, as she had so many times before, that she wasn’t his “sweetheart.” But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. After a moment, Rob added, “Before you think I’ve turned over a completely new leaf, I’m looking at other avenues now. Like a bingo channel. Maybe some sort of at-home gambling for the elderly.”
She couldn’t help it—she laughed. Of course he was still thinking things up.
The look on his face was a bit mischievous. “I can’t help it. I’m not the type to sit on my hands and count my money. I see opportunity and I go after it.”
“Some things never change,” she said, smiling.
The pleased look on his face died at once. “Can’t they change?” he asked in a lower voice. “Or are you forever fucked because of choices made before you met the right person?”
Was she the “right person” he was referring to? Marjorie’s lips were dry; she licked them and felt the urge to run away from this sudden frustration. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve been working my ass off to become someone you could respect. Someone you could like. Someone you can be proud of. Most of all, someone you can see yourself with. After we talked, I realized everything you were saying was true. I went through all of my life not giving a shit what anyone thought of me, because no one had ever given a shit about me. ‘Think I’m a dick? Fine. I’ll be a dick.’ But then I realized after talking with you that you have to earn respect to get respect, and I haven’t been bothering to earn it. I made a living off of tits and ass and the frat boy mentality, and so of course a decent, nice girl like you won’t give me the time of day. Why should you? I’m peddling everything that you hate. I get that, now. I don’t know if I can ever backtrack enough to undo what I’ve created, but I’m damn sure going to try.” He shrugged. “Nobody ever made me want to become something better than I was until I met you.”
Marjorie was silent. She held her breath, even, afraid that if she inhaled, she’d miss a word of his confession.
Rob’s gaze locked on her face and he tilted his head, examining her with an expression of such longing that her heart ached. “I haven’t stopped loving you, you know. I always thought love at first sight was such bullshit, and then I met you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. Ever. It’s not just lust. It’s wanting to hear your laugh and see your smile and wake up in the morning with you right next to me. I miss the hell out of you and I want you back, and if that means I have to donate every dollar I ever earn to charity and live in a box under a bridge to get your respect, then that’s what I’ll fucking do.”