Melting the Ice Queen ✔️

~9~

God, her heart was going to give out, Alicia thought, staring at Scott.

Nice, huh? After gathering all her nerve and showing up here at his office, she would collapse and die before saying what she'd come for. Not that she knew what she'd come for, other than it'd been two weeks since she'd seen him and the growing emptiness inside her was threatening to swallow her whole.

It was against her rules to miss him. Other violations she'd committed recently? Losing sleep, not eating, and generally feeling as though she'd been locked in a glass cell where the exit should be obvious, but she couldn't find it. Oh, and making the first move when he hadn't called or apparently thought about her this whole time. That was a big no-no.

Still, here she was, drinking in the sight of him like a dry sponge soaking up a water spill.

The receptionist left. Alicia sat in one of the guest chairs, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt because she had the uncontrollable fidgets. Scott resumed his seat behind his desk, looking formidable in his red tie and rolled-up shirtsleeves, and not at all happy to see her.

"Hi," she said when they were alone. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

I'm terrible. I feel like I'm coming unglued. I don't know which way is up.

"I'm great. Is this a bad time?"

"No."

Leaning back in his chair—so unreachable on the other side of that tennis-court-sized slab of glass that he may have been the sun—he rested his hands in his lap.

"What brings you here?" he prompted.

Right. She could do this. State your case, Alicia. You're a lawyer. Make your argument.

"You caught me by surprise the other day," she began.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. I had no idea you were unhappy or wanted more of a relationship, and I didn't know what to do."

"Uh-huh."

"But now I've had time to think about it, and I think we can reach a compromise."

"Aha."

He stared at her, waiting, with no particular interest on his face. Here she was, baring her soul, and he—what? Had she interrupted his pre-lunch nap? Was that it? Was he going to leave her dangling?

"So what's the compromise?" he wondered.

"There's no reason why we can't—" God, this was hard "—spend nights together, you know, during the week, and we can talk about where we want the relationship to go from here. That could work, right? And if you, I don't know, wanted us to take a vacation together or long weekends here or there—"

"Let me get this straight," he interrupted, and there was an edge to his voice now, a subtle hardening that hadn't been there before. "I want to marry you, build a life with you and have children with you, and you want to...what? Give me a space in your toothbrush holder?"

She frowned. Why was he saying it like that? Naturally it sounded lame when he said it like that! Couldn't he see she was trying? What did he expect her to do?

"I'm trying to negotiate with you—"

He snorted. "Negotiate, eh?"

"Yes, and you know I don't handle feelings well—"

"This is you, handling feelings?"

"Yes."

For the first time since she got here, something sparked to life behind his eyes, as though they had, finally, arrived at the part of the conversation that mattered to him. "And what are your feelings? For me, I mean. You haven't said."

Horrified paralysis clamped her mouth shut. She knew this was important, knew she was blowing it, but she just couldn't force her mouth or brain to work. The words—whatever they were—remained in lockdown somewhere between her throat and her lips.

The light in his dark eyes went out, leaving impenetrable blackness. With a choked and bitter bark of laughter, he scrubbed his hand over his chin and stood up. "Thanks for stopping by, Alicia. You wasted your time, but I do appreciate the effort."

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