Harold Lowe has managed to claw his way up the career ladder of the British merchant marines, rising from a ship's boy to a master mariner with one of the world's elite passenger lines. Along the way, he's learned to master not only his craft, but...
In case you didn't catch it in 'New York', Corrine had taken a page from Rose DeWitt Bukater's playbook - you'll see what I mean in this chapter.
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At ten minutes to three Corrine stood outside Harry's door, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
Why was she here, anyway? By answering his summons, she was subjecting herself to a form of emotional torture from which she might never recover. Seeing him this morning had been difficult enough; being alone with him without falling to pieces would be near impossible. It was likely that she would be an inconsolable puddle before the evening was over - and for what? What did she hope to derive from this meeting, anyway?
A part of her wanted to hear what he had to say, she supposed. His behavior in the restaurant contrasted so dramatically with his madness on the Carpathia that it roused her curiosity. At first, when he refused to even look at her that morning, she became convinced that he was disgusted with her, appalled by her reappearance in his life, and furious that he would be forced to see and interact with her again. That fear had quickly been mitigated when he had finally spoken, though. 'I can't, and I won't, and I never will...' Those words, said in response to her plea to let her go, had haunted her all morning. What had changed in him, to cause a complete turnabout in his attitude toward her, she wondered? Was it possible that he regretted his decision to end their relationship?
That thought had led her to do some serious soul-searching. Was she holding out hope for a reconciliation, then? She had asked herself that question multiple times throughout the day, and each time her answer grew firmer. No. What had happened that last day on the Carpathia had broken them irrevocably; there was no coming back from it. He had shattered her trust in him, taken away any sense of security she had... and he had been so cruel about it, so careless with her foolish and freely-given heart. Besides, nothing had changed anyway - he was still going to return to England, and she was still not going with him.
In the end, though, no matter how she tried to understand it or rationalize it, she knew she had come for only one reason: because she still loved him. It was indisputable, as undeniable as the sun rising in the east. In spite of everything, she would love him until the end of her days. Which made coming here a risky decision on her part - especially if he tried to win her back.
And she knew she would be tempted. He had looked so earnest in the dining room... his words so sincere... oh, she wanted nothing more than to believe in him again, to pretend that none of this had ever happened. But she would have to stay strong. She would hear what he had to tell her - and perhaps get a chance to have her say as well - and then she would leave as quickly as possible. She needed a permanent end, a clean break - and this last meeting would give her the closure she needed to move on with her life.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted her hand and knocked softly on the door.
It opened immediately, as if Harry had been waiting just on the other side. His eyes held a look of immense relief. "I wasn't sure if you'd come," he confessed.
