“Not that I saw, Mr. Winston. She handed them to me and said to make sure you could get back inside.”

He shook his head. Damn her to heaven and back. How could she be so considerate after what he’d done? Hell, any other woman would have trashed his place and left fifty screeching voice mails on his phone. With every given right.

Alec took the keys and rode the elevator to the penthouse, hoping to God she hadn’t left. Where would she go? The airport? A hotel? He’d find her, regardless.

The apartment was dark and quiet. Too quiet. His anxiety upped ten notches. He strode through the living room and to his bedroom where a bedside lamp cast a soft glow into the hall. He stopped short.

Not only had she not left, she hadn’t even changed clothes. The elegant black dress still adorned her thin frame, but her heels were placed neatly by the closet door and her hair was out of the twist. Soft brown strands fell around her shoulders. She stood by the bay window with her back to him and her arms crossed.

At a loss, he just stood there.

“I hate this place.” Her mermaid voice wafted over to him.

He understood. Most of the time, he hated the city, too. He wondered if he stayed to punish himself. For someone like Faith, New York would be overstimulation. Too many people, too much noise, just . . . too much everything. Strangely, he could relate.

Taking a hesitant few steps into the room, he sighed. “Faith, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for lying to me or sorry I found out?”

How very little she thought of him. Not that he could blame her. “I’m sorry I lied and I’m sorry you had to find out like that. I had every intention of telling you, but the words just never came.”

She turned, and the red of her eyes had his chest tightening. “Two words, Alec. Just two words. I’m. Engaged.”

When she put it like that . . .

“How have you kept this a secret? I mean, you’ve got a woman on your arm in nearly every tabloid. There’s not many people alive who don’t know your name, even in passing.”

He swiped a hand down his face and allowed the hurt to rise up. He had to explain to Faith in a manner she could somehow find a way to understand. He needed her to understand. Making his way to the corner, he sat in a chair to give her room and himself time to stall. He tossed his suit coat over the arm. Best to start at the beginning, he supposed.

“When I moved to the city, I’d just signed my first book deal and was living in this shitty apartment in the Lower East Side. Laura was a struggling artist who lived across the hall.” He picked at the skin around his thumbnail with his index finger. “We struck up a friendship of sorts that quickly turned into more. Neither of us expected anything other than what it was. Sex. We were young and stupid with too many dreams and not enough money.”

Faith walked over to his bed several feet away and sat on the edge of the mattress, her steady gaze holding his. Quiet understanding emanated, urging him to go on.

Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the next bit. The pain from those days washed over him and stole his air. “A couple months later, she got pregnant. Being a southern boy, I did what I thought was right and proposed to her. She wanted to wait to get married until after the baby was born.” They’d merged apartments and household items, but never their hearts. Not that Faith needed to know that part. “Things went from bad to worse. We couldn’t have been any more wrong for each other. We fought constantly. My first book was a month from releasing and I was deep into edits on the second when she called me from the doctor’s office to say she’d miscarried.”

The baby, just a fetus, was still a fresh loss in his mind. He’d barely had time to adjust to the pregnancy, but damn. He’d loved that baby with everything he had. The hot sting of tears threatened as he looked at Faith, his control wavering.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. If possible, her already tense shoulders grew even more rigid. But the anger creasing her brow smoothed away when she returned her amber gaze to his.

She still had yet to say anything, and his fucked-up tale wasn’t over, so he leaned back and drummed his fingers on the chair arm.

He blew out a breath. “Laura blamed me for everything. The miscarriage, not loving her, not making enough money, her art not selling. It got to the point we couldn’t be in the same room without screaming at each other. One night, she yelled it was over and stormed out.”

Alec could still hear her words inside his head, beating like a drum against his temples. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at Faith, so he had no idea if she felt the same contempt for himself that he did.

After several minutes he cleared his raw throat. “When she left the apartment, she got drunk with an old friend and wrapped her car around a utility pole. The friend died and Laura wound up a vegetable on life support. She’s in a nursing facility here in the city.”

Seconds ticked by.

Slowly, Faith rose and walked to the window. She offered him her back and nothing more. Said not a syllable. She looked so damn fragile standing there. Breakable. Then again, weren’t they all?

He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting to find out what she’d do, say. Faith never seemed to react as he expected, so he held some residual strand of hope she wouldn’t clock him and leave.

Nearly ten minutes passed, and nothing. Unable to stand it, he leaned forward. “Say something, Faith. Anything. Tell me you hate my guts. Tell me not to touch you again. Tell me—”

“That my heart hurts for you.”

He jerked straight. “Come again?” he croaked.

She turned around, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed her arms. “You still consider yourself engaged to . . . Laura?”

Hearing Laura’s name from Faith’s lips did something terrible to his insides. “Yes. The accident was nine years ago and there’s no hope of her recovering. The doctors say she’s brain-dead.” He opened his mouth again, but couldn’t finish the thought. Honestly, he was still waiting for Faith to throw her shoe at his head.

“You were going to say more.”

Clever, insightful Faith. “Laura’s parents are very religious. They won’t take her off life support even though she’s not in there anymore. I hit the bestseller list several months later, which is why we were able to hide what happened from the media— the accident preceded the fame. I can afford her care at the facility. They can’t.”

Faith stared at him through those amber eyes. Blinked. “And out of duty, you won’t leave her. Because you view this whole dreadful tragedy as your fault.”

Alec didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her astute intuition. Whether to shake her or kiss her for her calm understanding. If he wanted, he could leave Laura behind and still pay for her care, but he wouldn’t, because Faith was right. Guilt and remorse would forever bind him to that night nine years ago. He wouldn’t or couldn’t ever let it go. It was his own sick, twisted way of making amends.

Somehow, Faith got that. She’s wrapped her smart, beautiful head around his intentions and didn’t question the decision. Even more impressive was that she didn’t try to tell him it wasn’t his fault, like Jake had tried to do countless times, and she didn’t offer empty condolences because they never eased the pain. If anyone knew that, Faith did.

What in the hell was he going to do with her?

The itch to touch her, to cross the few feet between them and seek comfort, was so fierce that he rose from the chair before he remembered she hadn’t reacted. Her gaze was pinned to the wall over his head, lost, a million miles away.

“Give me some idea where your mind is at, Faith. Should I try to book an earlier flight home? Go sleep on the couch and give you space?”