I wanted to accept what I was hearing, but my cynical side didn’t trust it. “You came . . . to apologize?”
He stopped pacing. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
My simple inquiry stopped him totally, judging by his astonished appearance. “What?”
“Why?” I repeated. “Why do you feel the need to apologize?”
He stared at me like I was losing my mind. “You don’t believe I did anything wrong?”
I uttered a stiff, humorless chuckle, but agony shot through my incisions. “No, I do. What I mean is, coming here and saying this isn’t exactly pleasant for you. You could get away with not doing it. So, why are you?” Like most individuals, David would dodge responsibilities if given the option. “No one’s making you apologize.”
The minute my off-handed comment registered, his attention wandered to the door, and my stomach turned over.