It Had to Be You

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  "Sing that song again, Phoebe," one of the children demanded while Pooh licked up the chocolate crumbs on the floor beneath the table.

  "Which song?"

  "That one about monsters."

  "The werewolf song?" As the boys nodded, Phoebe launched into a spirited rendition of Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London," accenting the beat by swinging those amazing hips of hers. God, she was beautiful, and as he watched her, he felt an odd sense of peace. He couldn't imagine anything better than spending the rest of his life with her.

  She swept the twins off their chairs to dance, her back still turned toward the doorway. He watched her wiggle to the rhythm, and he smiled when the boys tried to imitate her. She swung them around, then froze as she saw him.

  "Don't let me stop the party," he said with a grin.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Peg let me in as she was leaving."

  The boys started to squirm and Phoebe released them. "I'm afraid you've got me at a bad time."

  Jared tugged on her hand. "The cake's all frosty now. Can me and Jason have a piece?"

  "Of course. Let me get some plates."

  Her hands were clumsy as she pulled the plates down. She saw that Dan had knelt in front of the boys so they were at eye level. Lines of fatigue were etched in his face, but she didn't permit herself to feel any sympathy. Keeping up with two women at the same time was undoubtedly exhausting. She blinked her eyes against a fresh flood of pain.

  "That cake looks mighty good, fellas. You make it?"

  "Peg maked it," Jared replied.

  "But Phoebe let us put frosty on it," his twin added.

  "Chocolate," Jared explained unnecessarily, since it was decorating most of his face.

  Dan chuckled, and the sound ripped through Phoebe's heart. She quickly placed a wedge of cake on each of two plates and set them on the cluttered table.

  Dan stood to watch the boys scramble for their chairs. "Yessirree, that cake sure does look good."

  Jason didn't let the fact that his mouth was already full stop him from talking. "The man wants some, Phoebe."

  She tried to keep her voice light. "Not such big bites, killer. You'll choke."

  Molly burst into the kitchen. "I'm home! Hi, guys. Hi, Coach." She gave each twin a pat, leaned down to get a kiss from Pooh, who'd jumped up on her, then regarded Phoebe cautiously. "Did Peg tell you what happened?"

  "She said you had a meeting."

  "There was a problem in the writing lab, and Mrs. Miller wanted to talk to us about it. Thanks for watching the boys." She made the statement begrudgingly.

  Phoebe rinsed the frosting from her hands and dried them on a dish towel while Molly fussed over the twins. Dan came up behind her.

  "Now that you can pass guard duty over to Miz Molly, what do you say we take a walk?"

  "It's too cold outside."

  "Shoot, that's good Chicago weather out there." Not giving her a chance to protest further, he grasped her wrist and pulled her from the kitchen. She couldn't engage in a struggling match with him in front of the children, so she went along with him until they had reached the foyer and were out of earshot.

  "Let me go!"

  For a moment he didn't say anything; he simply studied her with guarded eyes. "Seems like I've been a little slow to catch on. I just thought you were busy this past week, but you've been avoiding me."

  "I've been busy."

  "We need some privacy. Get your coat."

  "I don't think so."

  "Fine." He gripped her upper arm and pulled her up the stairs.

  "Stop it!" she hissed. "I don't want to do this."

  "Too bad." He led her into the bedroom and shut the door. Only then did he let her go, bracing his hands on his hips just as he did when he was standing on the sidelines. He had the same fierce expression on his face that she'd seen when he was about to do battle.

  "All right, let's have it. Why the deep freeze?"

  She had tried to postpone this encounter, had even hoped to avoid it entirely, but she should have known that wouldn't be possible. Dan wasn't the type of person to avoid confrontations. She bit the inside of her cheek because, once she started to cry, she'd never be able to stop, and she couldn't bear to have him see her break down like that.

  "Are you mad because I didn't call you right after we slept together? You know what's been going on this week. I thought you understood." He glanced at his watch. "Matter of fact, I'm short of time right now. We've got a coaches' meeting at six."

  "You'd better hurry and get your clothes off, then." She tried to sound tough, but there was a painful rasp in her voice.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Sex. Isn't that why you're here? To knock off a quickie before your meeting?" The words hurt her beyond bearing.

  "Shit. This is going to be one of those woman things, isn't it? You're pissed off, and I'm going to ask you why you're pissed off, and you're going to say that if I can't figure it out for myself, you're not going to tell me. Dammit, I don't want to play games like this with you." She could feel his anger building.

  "Pardon me!" She jerked the bangles from one wrist and threw them to the bed, knowing that rage was a safer emotion to express than grief. "Let's get to it, then." She kicked off her shoes, sending them flying across the room. "Hurry up, Coach. You've still got your pants on."

  He closed the distance between them and caught her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. "Stop it! I don't believe this. What's wrong with you?"

  She had broken her resolution to get through this confrontation with dignity, and she grew still in his arms. Taking a shaky breath, she spoke quietly. "I'm not going to sleep with you anymore, Dan. It was a mistake, and I shouldn't have done it in the first place."

  He drew back so they were no longer touching. Although his voice lost its belligerent edge, there was a dangerous wariness in his eyes. "I know you care for me. You wouldn't have slept with me if you hadn't."

  "I met Sharon at the Bills game." The guilty look that flashed across his face told her everything. "She's very nice. You have good taste."

  "Sharon doesn't have anything to do with the two of us. If you're thinking I was sleeping with both of you at the same time, you're wrong."

  "That's what I understand. You had the best of both worlds, didn't you?" Her voice caught. "You could get your rocks off with the bimbo while you kept your future wife pristine."

  Instead of being apologetic, he looked furious. "Is that the kind of man you think I am?"

  "It's hard to think anything else."

  She could see him struggling to hold on to his temper. "I'd made arrangements for Sharon to come to the Bills game weeks ago, and I couldn't call it off at the last minute. But I'm not seeing her any longer. I thought she was what I wanted in a woman, but then, after you and I were together last time, I knew I was kidding myself."

  The knowledge that he and Sharon had separated should have made her happy, but it didn't. She needed to hear him say that he wanted more from her than sex, that he wanted love, and until he spoke the words, nothing could be right between them. Her voice was soft and unsteady.

  "Did you stop seeing her because she wasn't hot enough for you?"

  The muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed hard. "Don't do this, Phoebe. Don't start saying all kinds of things that can't be taken back. I told you how screwed-up my own family was. For a long time I've been wanting to settle down to a real marriage—not just an ongoing orgy like I had with Valerie. I want kids."

  "So you held auditions for your future children's mother, and Sharon won the baby ribbon."

  "It's not hard to figure out why she appealed to me. I wanted somebody who liked kids, who wasn't going to be slapping them around whenever my back was turned."

  "I see. Exactly whose mother was she supposed to be? Your children's or yours?"

  He flinched, but she felt no satisfaction in knowing she'd hurt him. She didn't want that. She just wanted him
to go away before she fell apart.

  "That's a rotten thing to say."

  "I guess it is. But I also suspect it's true."

  His voice sounded hoarse. "Do you know that when I saw you with those kids downstairs, I was just about the happiest man in the world. For a few minutes today, I thought everything was coming together for us."

  He hesitated, and she suddenly knew what was coming. It was as if he'd already spoken the words, and although the room was warm, she felt chilled. Don't say it! Tell me you love me instead. Tell me love is what you want from me, not just children.

  He jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'd never seen you with kids. For all I knew, you felt the same way about them as Valerie. But I saw how you acted with those boys, and it wasn't hard to tell they're as crazy about you as you are about them."

  Her whole body was aching. "Does this mean that I'm in the running now that Sharon's out of the picture?"

  "I don't know why you're putting it like that, but, yes, I think you'd make a terrific mother."

  She swallowed. "Am I in first place now or are there other women standing in line in front of me?"

  He gritted his teeth. "There aren't any other women."

  "So I'm the only candidate at the moment."

  "I haven't had more than two hours of sleep a night for longer than I can remember," he said tightly. "I'm running on junk food and adrenaline, and I'm not going to apologize for wanting to marry you."

  Of course he wanted to marry her. They were great together in bed, he knew she wouldn't abuse his children, and there was a possibility she'd give him the Stars as her dowry.

  Until that moment, she had forgotten about Reed's sly insinuation, but now it came rushing back. The room began to spin. She struggled to speak. "This sudden desire of yours to marry me…" She cleared her throat. "Is it just because you saw me with the twins or does it have anything to do with the fact that I'm only one game away from owning the Stars?"

  He went completely still, his face going pale. "Exactly what are you suggesting?"

  "We've known each other for months, but this is the first time you've indicated that you want anything more than sex from me. Is that what today's all about? Are you laying the groundwork for a real marriage proposal in case the team wins on Sunday?"

  "I can't believe you're saying this."

  She gave a choked laugh. "I guess I hadn't really thought about what a catch I'd be. If the Stars win, whoever marries me will be getting big breasts and a great football team. I'm every man's fantasy."

  His face was rigid. "Don't say another word."

  "You'd be the envy of all the coaches in the league."

  "I'm warning you…"

  "Will you still be this anxious to marry me if the Stars lose?"

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. "What happens in that game on Sunday doesn't have anything to do with the two of us."

  "But if you win, I'll never be sure of that, will I? The only way I'll know you're sincere is if you lose and you still want to marry me." Say you love me, Dan. Say you want to marry me because you love me—not because I excite you in bed or you want me to have your children or you covet my football team. Say you love me, and push all this ugliness away.

  "I'm winning this football game."

  "Then we don't have a chance," she whispered.

  "What are you trying to say?"

  She was bleeding inside and she wanted the pain to stop. Her throat had squeezed so tightly shut she could no longer speak.

  He regarded her with a flat, cold stare. "I'm not throwing the game."

  At first she didn't understand what he meant. But as she took in the bleak expression on his face, she felt sick inside.

  His voice was hard and furious, and she remembered that he hid all his stronger emotions behind anger. "I've played hard all my life, but I've always played clean, no matter how much temptation I faced. I've been offered money. I've been offered drugs and women. But I don't throw games. Not for anybody. Not even for you."

  "I didn't mean…"

  His eyes flicked over her with contempt. Then he stalked out of the room.

  She was only dimly aware of the passage of time as she sat on the edge of the bed with her hands clasped in her lap. She heard voices in the hallway when Molly took the twins home and then she heard her return a short time later. Pooh scratched at the door, but went away when she didn't open it. She sat in the room and tried to put the pieces of herself back together.

  At ten o'clock, she heard water running in Molly's bathroom. She listlessly pulled off her own clothes, then slipped into her oldest bathrobe, finding comfort in its soft, worn fabric. There was a knock at her door.

  "Are you all right, Phoebe?"

  Under other circumstances, she would have been pleased that Molly had thought to inquire about her wel-fare, but now she merely felt empty. "I've got a headache. I'll see you tomorrow before you leave for school."

  She wandered over to the window and pushed back the curtains to look down into the woods that ran behind the house. Tears clouded her eyes.

  "Phoebe?"

  She hadn't heard Molly come in, and she didn't want her here. Sooner or later she would have to tell her sister they were leaving Chicago, but she couldn't do it tonight. "The door was closed."

  "I know. But—Are you sure you're all right." The light in the room went on.

  She continued to face the window because she didn't want Molly to see that she'd been crying. She heard the soft padding of Pooh's paws on the carpet. "It's just a headache."

  "You and Dan had a fight, didn't you?"

  "Dan and I are always fighting."

  "You tease each other, but you don't really fight."

  "This wasn't teasing, Molly. This was the real thing."

  There was a long pause. "I'm sorry."

  "I don't know why you would be. You hate my guts, remember?" She knew it wasn't fair to take out her unhappiness on Molly, but she was past caring. Pooh nudged at her ankles, almost as if she were reprimanding her.

  "I don't hate you, Phoebe."

  Fresh tears clouded her eyes. "I need to be alone, okay?"

  "You're crying."

  "Just a temporary weakness. I'll get over it."

  "Don't cry. Dan would feel bad if he knew he'd made you so sad."

  "I sincerely doubt that."

  "I think you're in love with him."

  She swallowed hard as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'll get over that, too."

  She felt a gentle hand on her arm. Her throat closed tight and something seemed to break apart inside her. Without quite knowing how it happened, she was in Molly's arms.

  Molly patted her arm and rubbed her back. "Don't cry, Phoebe. Please, don't cry. It'll get better. Really, it will. Don't cry." Molly crooned to her just as she crooned to Pooh. Since she was several inches shorter than Phoebe, their position was awkward, but they held on to each other anyway.

  Phoebe had no idea how long they stayed that way, but nothing on earth could have made her let her sister go. When she was finally cried out, Molly pulled away, only to return a few moments later with some tissues she'd fetched from the bathroom.

  Phoebe sat down on the side of the bed and blew her nose. "It'll be better tomorrow. I'm just feeling sorry for myself."

  The mattress sagged as Molly sat beside her. Several moments of silence ticked by. "Are you pregnant?"

  Phoebe looked at her with startled eyes. "Why would you think that?"

  "A girl in my ancient history class is pregnant. I know it can happen, even to older people who are supposed to know about birth control and everything. If you are, I'm sure Dan would want to marry you, but if he didn't—The two of us—" She spoke in a rush. "I'd help you take care of the baby. You wouldn't have to have an abortion, or give it away, or raise it by yourself or anything."

  As Phoebe took in the intensity of her sister's expression, some of her numbness disappeared, and she gave a watery smile. "I'm not pregnant. But thanks. Thanks a lot."<
br />
  "You're not going to start crying again, are you?"

  Phoebe nodded and blew her nose. "I can't help it. That was the sweetest thing anybody's ever offered to do for me." She gave a small hiccup. "I love you, Mol. I really do."

  "You do?"

  "Yes." Phoebe wiped at her tears.

  "Even though I've been a brat?"

  Phoebe smiled weakly. "A real brat."

  "Nobody's ever loved me before."

  "Your mother did."

  "Really?"

  "She loved you a lot."

  "I don't remember her. Bert said she was a bimbo."

  Phoebe gave a choked laugh. "She was. So was my mother. Those were the only kind of women Bert married. He liked them blond, sexy, and not too smart. We got our brains from him, Mol, not from our mothers." She pulled at the tissue in her hands. "But your mother was one of the sweetest women I ever met, and she loved you so much. I ran away when you were just an infant, but I still remember how she'd hold you for hours, even when you were sleeping, just because she couldn't believe she had you."

  "I wish I remembered her."

  "She was a nice lady. She used to tell me stories about being a showgirl. So did Cooki, who was Bert's second wife. They were both sweethearts."

  Molly was drinking in her every word. "Tell me about them."

  She sniffed and dabbed her nose. "Well, Bert found all three of his wives in Las Vegas. None of them started out with anything except good looks, but they were exceptional women. Sometimes I think bimbo is just another word men made up so they could feel superior to women who are better at survival than they are." Pooh jumped up in her lap and she stroked her soft fur. "Instead of feeling sorry for themselves, all of Bert's wives worked hard to make something of their lives. They survived bad men, lousy working conditions, bouts of bronchitis from skimpy costumes, and they did it with a smile. Your mother wasn't bitter, not even when she figured out what kind of man Bert really was." She gave Molly an unsteady smile. "You've got sequins and fishnet tights in your heritage, Mol. Be proud of it."

  Her sister, with her solemn face and splendid brain, was clearly entranced with the idea. As Phoebe watched her, a horrible thought flickered through her mind, driving out her own misery.