by Sabrina York
He smiled when the door opened...except it wasn’t Roni. It was Gwen. Yikes. His smile faltered. The hand holding the flowers drooped.
“Hello, Mark,” she said dryly. Yeah. There’d never been much love lost between them. Not since high school. She still needled him every time they met.
“Hey, Gwen,” he said brightly. “I’m here for Roni.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned around and headed back into the apartment without so much as a come on in.
He followed her into the small, homey kitchen and looked around. It was a little outdated, but warm. And it smelled fantastic. It didn’t take him long to identify why. A couple of pies sat cooling on the counter. Apple, if he didn’t miss his guess.
“She’s almost ready.” Gwen dropped into a chair by the table. She didn’t offer him a seat, but he was too nervous to sit, anyway.
“So, how’s Roger?” he asked. Not that he really cared, but banal conversation was about all he could manage.
“He’s fine. Home with the kids.”
“Twins, right?”
She tipped her head and gave him the side-eye, then picked up a pencil and turned back to her crossword puzzle. After a moment she dropped the pencil and glared at him, as though the fact she couldn’t solve the puzzle was his fault. “If you hurt her, I will eviscerate you,” she hissed, apropos of nothing.
Seriously? He’d brought flowers. He’d arrived nearly on time. He’d shaved, for pity’s sake. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s been through a lot, Mark.” She said his name as though it tasted bad. “She doesn’t need to be toyed with by a...playboy.”
A playboy? He was about to respond, but just then, Roni emerged from the hallway. And when she smiled at him, he completely forgot whatever it was he was going to say to Gwen.
She wasn’t wearing anything fancy—a simple long-sleeved black tunic with black leggings and a silver necklace—but she looked like a million bucks.
“Hi, Mark,” she said, giving him a once-over. “Wow. You clean up nice.”
He grinned and handed her the flowers. “You look great, too.”
“Thank you,” she said, but as she turned away to put the flowers in water, he thought he saw her smile dim. Just a little. It was probably his imagination. Maybe he was too sensitive and reading things into her every expression. Hey, maybe she didn’t like flowers? Though he’d never met a woman who didn’t like flowers. Maybe—
“Are you ready to go?” she asked. When she set the vase of flowers on the table, Gwen pushed it to the far side with one finger.
“You bet.” He took Roni’s arm and saluted Gwen, who made a face at him because Roni was looking the other way.
“We won’t be late,” Roni told her cousin as she collected her purse. “And we’ll be just down the street if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry,” Gwen said, waving Roni to the door. “Just have fun.”
“Thanks,” he said, but he could tell his attempt at grace wasn’t appreciated. Shrugging it off, he held the door open for Roni. When she passed him as she exited, he got a whiff of her perfume and all thoughts of Gwen, or anyone else, evaporated.
It was a nice night, cool after the warmth of the day. A balmy breeze kicked up her hair, bringing her scent to him once again. As they walked around the corner to Main Street and over to the B&G, they chatted about little things, like the weather, and the fact that she was excited that cherries would soon be in season. It was nice. Sweet. Innocent. He instinctively wanted to take her hand, but curled his fingers into a ball. Slow, he reminded himself. Take it slow. He had no idea why his heart was pounding like a drum. But then she smiled at him and he knew. Of course he knew.
He opened the door of the restaurant for her, because that’s what gentlemen on dates did, and she gave him a cute little curtsy in return.
Chase met them at the door. “Hi, folks,” he said. “Table for two?”
Roni smiled. “Yes, please,” she said.
“Something in the back?” Chase suggested. “I think it’ll be a little quieter back there, once these cowboys get their drink on.”
When they nodded, he led them to a table in the corner of the restaurant, far from the bright lights of the bar. It was nice. Almost romantic. Well, as romantic as the B&G got, Mark supposed.
He took his seat across from Roni and they smiled at each other. Crystal appeared with menus and water for them both and then, finally, they were alone. There were a few dinner stragglers at the other tables, but they were all on the other side of the room, and the bar was deserted. It was actually the perfect setting for a first date.
Too bad he was nervous as hell.
Mark folded his hands on the table and gazed at Roni, unsure what to say. He was a little relieved to see that at least she looked a little nervous, too. That was something.
“I’m so glad you could come tonight,” he finally said. “I’ve really been looking forward to this...”
Her smile faded, and his mood deflated, just a little. Then she leaned in, set her hands on his and said the worst possible thing a woman could say to a guy on the first date.
“Mark, I need to tell you something.”
Yikes. That sounded...ominous. “Um, okay.”
But before she could say anything else, Crystal arrived with their drinks and some dinner rolls, which was awkward. When she asked if they were ready to order, they both asked for a few more minutes, since they hadn’t even glanced at the menus. She smiled knowingly and said she’d be back in a bit, leaving them to their uncomfortable conversation.
Mark shifted in his seat. “So, this thing you wanted to tell me about. What is it?”
She smiled, but he could see it was half-hearted. “Don’t be so gloomy.”
“Oh. Am I being gloomy?” He forced a smile.
“I know this is kind of a weird place for this conversation, but... Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, please?”
Well, hell. Whatever she was going to say would not be something he wanted to hear. He knew it to the core of his being. But she clearly needed to get something important off her chest, and he was going to listen and be respectful. No matter what. “Okay. Shoot.”
She toyed with the stem of her wineglass for a minute, then gusted a sigh and said, “Mark...I love that we have a chance to reconnect and reestablish our friendship—” Friendship? Crap. “—after all these years. But I have to be honest with you.”
His jaw tightened. What? Was she still married after all? Did she have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? What?
She drew in a deep breath, sat back and then took a sip of her wine. “This isn’t easy for me to talk about.”
“Okay...”
“I, um... So, I told you that I was married. And that I went through a divorce.”
Yes. Yes. He knew.
She picked up a fork and fiddled with it. She stared at it as though it fascinated her. Or, as though she couldn’t bear to meet his eye while she said whatever it was she needed to say. “It was...not a happy marriage.”
He nodded, still not sure where she was going with this.
She caught and held his gaze. “It was a very...bad marriage.”
There was an undertone in her words. As though she was tiptoeing around some dark secret that was too painful to reveal. It made a cold shiver run down his spine, and suddenly, an instinct to protect her rose up within him. But protect her from what? “I... Ah... Okay,” he said, a bit uncertainly.
Her smile, the real one, appeared and it made his chest hurt a little. Because suddenly, he had an inkling as to why she was so hesitant to express herself. “Oh, good. So then you understand why I’m not looking for...romance.”
Crap. This felt like she was putting him in the friend-zone. She was putting him in the friend-zone. Crap.
The fact that
she had a damn good reason for putting him in the friend-zone didn’t make him feel any better—for himself, and definitely not for her.
Still, he smiled encouragingly.
Relief washed over her face. “Thank God. Gwen was certain you thought...” She sat back and stared at him for a moment, then reached out for him, taking his hand. “Thank you so much for understanding.”
“Of course. Sure... Everyone needs time after a bad divorce.” That much he did understand.
To his horror, her expression clouded again. She pulled away. Shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s not that. This isn’t about time at all. I’ve had time.” She let out a bitter laugh; he didn’t understand why. There was something here just out of his reach. But he didn’t know what, or how to ask for more information in a way that might not cross any lines. It was frustrating. Because, sure, he wanted to understand—but he wanted to help, too, if he could.
“Anthony and I have been divorced for over two years.”
Okay. Now he really didn’t get it. After a minute he sallied forth with a question. “So...?”
She took another drink of her wine. A fortifying gulp. “Mark, I’m not interested in dating. Not at all. Not ever again.”
Bitterness rose in his throat. “Never?” He had to wonder what the hell could have happened in her marriage to make her swear off the possibility of love...for good. The prospect haunted him.
“Never.” She picked a roll from the basket and absentmindedly shredded it. “See, I made a decision. I decided I am enough. I don’t need a relationship to define me. A romantic relationship, I mean.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I need you to understand where I’m coming from.”
He didn’t. Not completely. But that didn’t matter now. His stupid hopes for dazzling her with his charm most certainly didn’t matter now. Something—no, someone—had wounded her. All he wanted was to hold her. To make it better somehow. But he couldn’t. Not really.
Right now she needed him. He could be there for her right now. That had to be enough. She’d meant something to him when they’d both been kids. She meant something still. And he would honor that.
“Okay.” He took a sip of his wine, then smiled at her. “I’m here for you, Roni. Whatever you need.”
Obviously something in his expression or his tone, something unintended, had given him away. “Oh.” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “You did think this was a date, didn’t you? Oh, I should have known it. Gwen was right.”
This information, of course, made him frown. It kind of bugged him that Gwen might be right about something. Anything. But he hated the look on Roni’s face even more. The bald fact was...she was different. She was special. She’d always been special to him for some reason. He wasn’t sure what it was that made her different from all the other women he’d known, but he knew she was.
Maybe the fact that her jokes made him laugh, or things were just easy and natural between them. He’d never had any of those things with someone else.
If she wanted friendship, well, he respected her enough to give her what she wanted. They’d been friends as kids, and it had been pretty great; he could try and forget that kiss. They’d practically been children. Or so he tried to convince himself.
If friendship was all she wanted, that would have to be enough. He couldn’t have all of her, but he could have whatever she was willing to offer. And he’d accept, gladly.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Mark nodded and glanced at his glass, remorseful now that it was empty. He could have used another snort. “I’m sorry, too.” Sorry. It was a simple word, hardly strong enough to carry the weight of his feelings. “I’m so sorry. For whatever happened that made you feel this way.”
Silence surrounded them again. “So you’re not disappointed?”
“Crushed.” He rolled his eyes. And, yeah, as he always did when he was in an uncomfortable spot, he went straight for humor. “Hell, I had us walking down the aisle with three kids and a dog.”
She stared at him and then her lips quirked. “Just one dog?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, you got me. There might have been more than one dog in my fantasy.”
“But, we’re still friends, right?” she asked. As though she didn’t already know. Which kind of broke his heart.
“Roni, we will always be friends.” The words were sharp and hurt in his mouth, but they were true. “And,” he added after a moment’s thought, “I’m here for you, however you want me. If you ever want to talk, if you need a shoulder to cry on, a brownie taster...”
And, ah, when she grinned, she glowed. “Thank you, Mark. You can’t know how much that means to me.” But the tears in her eyes gave her away.
He squeezed her hand. “Why don’t we order dinner?”
“You bet. I’m starving.”
He nodded and signaled the waitress with a blasé smile on his face, but somewhere, deep down in his soul, he ached for the happy girl he used to know. And he wondered yet again what—and who—had hurt her so badly.
* * *
That night, Roni had trouble sleeping. Part of it was lying awake and thinking about how much she’d enjoyed the evening with Mark.
But she also had the dream again. It hit her harder than it should have—that dark cacophony of noise, lights and pain. Screams. She shot up in bed, covered in sweat and panting, filled with an unaccountable dread.
It took her a while to calm. She was here. In her bed at Gram’s. The comforter was familiar and worn. The faint scents of butter and sugar still hung in the air from her baking earlier in the day. She was alone in the room. There was no one in the shadows. Still, it took several minutes for her thudding pulse to slow. Longer for her to stop shaking.
She had to clutch the furniture as she made her way to the bathroom for a drink of water. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she flinched, hating the way she looked. Afraid and hunted. Wounded, as the ugly spiderweb of scars on her bare shoulder and back attested.
He’s not here, she wanted to shout to herself, to the world. Of course, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t do to wake Gram or frighten the neighbors. How long would it be, she wondered, before the memory of him no longer had this hold on her? What would it take?
Well, there was no more sleep coming. That, she knew for certain. Instead, she dressed in the outfit she’d chosen for today’s trip to Stirling Ranch and made her way into the kitchen.
There was a lot to look forward to, she reminded herself. She hadn’t been to the ranch since...wow. Since she was fifteen. So long ago. She couldn’t wait to see it again. Couldn’t wait to be together with the entire family again.
Especially Mark.
Although, if she was honest with herself, maybe she was a little nervous, too. Seeing him had reminded her of all those happy times, and the girl she’d once been, but it had also reminded her how easy it could be to let physical attraction overwhelm common sense. His smile had made her heart flutter. His touch had sent her pulse into a tumult. There was no doubt she found him as attractive as she had back then—more, perhaps, because now she knew where such things led. Thank God they had an understanding, that he’d been willing to accept her friendship...and nothing more.
He’d been so understanding when she’d told him about her marriage. Granted, she hadn’t gone into detail, but he’d seemed to realize it wasn’t your average marital disaster, no simple case of irreconcilable differences. Thank God, he hadn’t asked for more information. The last thing she wanted to do was tell anyone about the hell her life had been. It was painful to relive and, worse, embarrassing.
Gretchen had told her not to feel shame that she’d been misled by Anthony’s manners and charm, that she’d been sucked into an abusive relationship. That she’d stayed as long as she had. It was one thing to hear a message like that, and quite another to internalize it.
Internalization took time. And practice.
Damn it all, anyway, she’d always been a strong woman. How had she let him do what he did?
Silly question. She knew. In group therapy, she’d listened to other women who’d been in the same boat. Many told the exact same story. It had been a slow descent. A seductive one. She hadn’t even realized what was happening until she was in too deep. And by then, he had isolated her. Even if she hadn’t been too frightened to reach out for help, there had been no one left to help her, because he’d made sure to cut her friends and what little family she had out of her life.
Not too difficult since Mom had passed from cancer, and her father had been busy with his new family on the other side of the planet. Yeah. She’d been all alone by then. Lost, really. Would things have been different if her parents had been there for her? If she hadn’t felt so abandoned and alone?
It hardly mattered, because things hadn’t happened that way and she’d seen Anthony as her long-anticipated Mr. Right.
The first time he’d hit her, he’d been so repentant. As if he couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He’d sworn it would never happen again.
Of course, it had. Of course, she’d allowed it. She had—
No.
She stopped her thoughts abruptly. No. It was not her fault. She was not the guilty party. She was not the one in prison for assault and battery. She’d done nothing to make him want to hurt her. He was the broken one.
She stared at her face in the mirror—surely not to see if the scar on her brow was still visible—then shook her head as she tugged her sweater on over the dress. She owed him nothing. He didn’t own any part of her. Not even her regrets.
No more thinking of the past. Today was a new day. The future belonged to her.
* * *
Gram was really excited when she woke up. She’d been looking forward to visiting to the ranch all week. So much so, that she insisted on driving.
“I can drive,” Veronica said, juggling the desserts in an attempt to take command of the keys.