Homecoming - Christie Golden [18]
Libby regarded him appraisingly for a moment longer, and then said, “Good. I’ve been good, Harry. My career’s really taken off and I perform at concerts all over the quadrant now. I’ve become a vegetarian and I’ve never felt healthier. I’ve dated several men, slept with a few, and fallen in love with one. It didn’t last. I live in a cabin by the sea where I have to balance my love for the ocean with the mess the humidity makes of my Ktarian lal-shak. I have two cats and a rabbit named Binky. That answer your question?”
Harry’s face felt as hot as if he were standing next to a bonfire. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I guess you shouldn’t have come.”
[51] “Silly me,” she said, heat entering her voice, “I thought you might want to see me, for old times’ sake. Guess you’re all grown up now and don’t have time for women you once said you loved. So, Harry, how’ve you been?”
“Now you’re angry,” he said. “I’m so stupid. I thought—hell, I don’t know what I thought.” As furious with himself now as she was, he made to move past her. She blocked him, placing her hand on his chest. It was warm and strong and stopped him as surely as if he had run into a forcefield.
“I cried my eyes out when they said your ship was lost,” she said softly. They didn’t look at one another. Her gaze was on the floor, his straight ahead. Her hand was still on his chest, fingers spread wide, and he wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was racing. He was certain she could.
“I waited for news. Any news. Good or bad. Anything that would let me move on, one way or another. And when it finally came, I cried again. Then I dried my eyes and got on with my life. I put all my pain and passion into my music, and it took my talent to a place it had never been before. Every time I played, you were in my thoughts, Harry Kim. I hoped that you had died quickly, without pain. I started seeing people, opening my heart up again. And then I heard from your parents that they were getting messages from you. Messages, Harry. Voyager was making it home as best it could, and you were alive, and you were sending your parents messages, but there weren’t any for me.”
His heart breaking, Harry risked a look down at her. Tears glittered like diamonds in her long, thick lashes. [52] She still stared at the floor. He wanted to speak, but didn’t dare.
“So I figured you’d forgotten. Didn’t want to see me. Your parents insisted I come here, and you know what, you were right. I shouldn’t have.”
“Libby,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Oh, God. I was afraid to contact you. I was afraid to find out that you were married, or hated me, or, I don’t know. I was just scared. There have been other people for me too. I’ll be honest, there have been some women I’ve really loved. But there was never anyone who ... who fit with me the way you did. There’s no one now.”
In a small voice, she said, “There’s no one now for me either.”
Swallowing hard, aware that they were in a crowd of people, Harry stepped in front of her and turned her face up to his. Her eyes were brimming with tears. How many times had he gazed into those eyes before bending to kiss those full, soft lips?
“I don’t know about you, but I think there’s still something here between us,” he said, risking all.
She nodded. “There is,” she admitted.
“What do you want to do about it?” She smiled, and to Harry it was as if the sun had broken out from behind a cloud bank. “I want to watch your parents revel in having their only son home safe and sound. I want to eat every bite of what is no doubt going to be a scrumptious feast. I want to split dessert with you like we always did. I want to take a walk in the moonlight and hold your hand and see how that feels.”
[53] He felt his own lips stretch in a grin and knew he looked like an idiot. A very happy idiot.
“Sounds like a plan.”
A clinking sound interrupted his thoughts. Someone was tapping on a glass with a fork. The crowd quieted and turned their attention toward their host, Admiral Paris. Although he presented quite a formal appearance, clad as he