activity. “I’d better get back to it.”
Equally startled and stung that he had so little to say to her—not that she didn’t deserve it, she knew—Shelby reached out a hand, but stopped just shy of touching him. “Eli—”
He hesitated, his shoulders tight with tension, then turned and arched a dark golden brow.
“Could we catch up at dinner?” she asked. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
A shadow passed behind his gaze so quickly that she couldn’t read it and, though his expression never changed, she could tell that he was reluctant to continue their conversation. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll see you at Sally’s.”
And he might, Shelby thought, but getting him to talk to her was a different matter altogether. A lump swelled in her throat and the little kernel of hope she’d clung to withered and died.
She’d been right. He did blame her for Micah’s death.
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