A Ring and a Promise

“I’m not an April Fool’s joke, so stop staring,” he ordered, his grin slashing his handsome face. “How are you?”

“Okay.” She studied his jutting cheekbones. “And you?”

“I’m all right.”

He didn’t look all right. He looked tired.

But the longer Abby stared at Donovan Woodward, the more she knew tiredness wasn’t the right word. True, there were deeply carved lines around his ocean-blue eyes, stripped now of the sparkle of pure fun that once dared her to join in. But tiredness wasn’t the reason. Donovan never got tired, not the life-of the-party Donovan that Abby had known.

Still, a girl didn’t forget the face of the first man to ask her to marry him, even after five years. Yet his face had changed, matured.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he demanded when the silence stretched too long and the air bristled with tenseness.

His testy tone irked her.

“Such as what? Welcome home?” Abby suggested, glaring at him. “Or maybe we could discuss that note you told my mother to give me five years ago. How did it go? ‘I made a mistake. I’m leaving. Sorry.’”

She gritted her teeth, irked she’d let that slip out.

“That wasn’t my best moment,” he admitted. “But if you’ll listen a minute, I’ll explain—”

“After five years you’re finally offering an explanation?” She tossed him a scathing glance before turning back to her worktable. “Forget it.”

“Abby.” Donovan touched her arm, wordlessly asking her to face him. “I know I should have explained my reasons to you personally. Asking you to marry me on prom night and leaving two days later for Europe wasn’t exactly what I’d planned, but I figured you’d understand I was doing it for you.”

“For me?” Incredulity filled her. “Is that how you justify it?”

“I didn’t have to justify myself after—” Donovan shook his head, cleared his throat. “The gossip must have been awful. I’m sorry I left you alone to face that, Abby.”

An apology from Donovan? That was nice. But all he was apologizing for was the gossip. He’d even intimated his leaving had somehow benefited her, which was ludicrous. But then, maybe five years in Europe had changed his memories.

Still, how could he say his decision had anything to do with her?

“The past is over, Donovan. Let’s agree to disagree on your part in it.” She refocused away from the painful memories. “Will you be working at Weddings by Woodwards?”

“Uh-huh.” His shaggy walnut-toned hair moved in a ripple of assent.

“Your grandmother will be ecstatic. That’s great.” She winced as her voice echoed around her work room like some kind of cheerleader.

“Oh, Abigail. The way you say that,” Donovan mocked.

“When did you get back?” Funny how she struggled to talk to him when once they’d never had enough time to say everything.

“Flew in tonight. Grandmother didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he mumbled with a frown at the array of tools she’d spread out.

“Sorry.” If she’d known he was coming she’d have stayed away.

“Don’t be. I needed to apologize, Abby. I owed you that.”

“I don’t want your apology.”

“Tough. I needed to give it.” A smile flirted with his lips, but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Want to reciprocate?”

“I have nothing to apologize for.” Something lurked beneath the surface of his remarks, something Abby didn’t understand. “Anyway, I told you, I don’t want to discuss the past. We’re different people now. I’ve moved on, Don. So have you, I’m sure.”

He’d always been Don to her; charismatic, showering everyone in his life with laughter and happiness, always fun, totally irresistible.

And then he’d left.

“I’m sure you agree that leaving was the right thing to do, but I should have talked to you first. My only excuse is I was upset.”

The right thing to do?

“Upset by what?” Confusion filled her. “Proposing?”

“No.” He studied her intently. “Have you forgotten everything about that night, Abby?”

“I’ve tried,” she said, meeting his stare. “It wasn’t the best time of my life.”

“Nor mine.” Something lay hidden in those words. Something Donovan evidently decided not to clarify because after a moment of further scrutiny, he shrugged, stepped closer and brushed the edge of her creation with one fingertip. “Is this a special order?”

“A private commission.” She studied the setting with a critical eye. Not her best yet, but better. “It’s an idea for a project, actually.”

Donovan nodded as if he’d expected that answer.

“What’s the project?”

Abby didn’t want to share her dream with him. But this awkwardness between them had to end. Weddings by Woodwards was a tight-knit family company that offered everything a bride and groom could need. Winifred Woodward expected her employees to get along.

“Is it a secret?”

“No.” Abby strove for a bland tone, ignoring her inner discomfort. “It’s for a contest in New York. Jewelry designers can submit fine designs. Well known designers will judge. It’s great exposure and a chance to get my designs into New York. Entries close in two weeks.” She bit her lip, then admitted the rest. “I haven’t yet settled on the complete design.”

“As I remember, you always had plans to go to New York.”

With him. She’d thought they’d shared that dream.

“So what’s holding you back?” Donovan leaned one hip against the counter and waited for her explanation.

“Time. My parents recently moved from their home into a retirement condo. It was a difficult transition.”

“Ah, your parents.”

Abby winced at his tone. Her mother had never accepted Donovan in her life. She’d always claimed he was never serious enough about anything. He’d endured her disapproval and caustic comments many times, and always without losing his charm. His faultless manners and quirky sense of humor had helped Abby weather many embarrassing confrontations.

“How are your parents? I suppose the two dedicated doctors of genetics are still buried in their world?”

“No. Dad’s in the first stages of Alzheimer’s. He gets frustrated by the memory lapses. Mom’s finding it difficult.” Wasn’t that an understatement?