That was why it killed me to say, “I can’t.” When disappointment came across her face, I added, “I was going to tell you about the party I have to attend next Saturday. It just slipped my mind.”
She said nothing.
“You know I wouldn’t miss the chance of meeting your family unless it was extremely important.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.” My hand clasped down harder, which she would take as an apology.
And it was … for lying.
I was staring at the woman I cared about so deeply, saying words that weren’t close to the truth.
This was my new reality.
The way I chose to live until she despised me.
“It’s okay.” Her hand went to my chest where she kept it close to my heart. “You know I understand, Jared. I used to be the same way about work.”
She hadn’t agreed to fly, but she was starting to open up to the idea.
It had been six months since the crash. I considered that progress in addition to the weight she’d put on, giving her the body I’d admired on the plane.
She was almost there.
That was what I focused on to keep my heartbeat steady, and then I asked, “How are you going to get home?”
She took a drink of her tea. “I’m going to rent a car and drive.”
“That’s a good six hours if you don’t hit any traffic.” I set my coffee down and reached for my phone to shoot off a text to my assistant. “I’ll have Tony drive you.”
“Don’t be silly, Jared.” She put her hand on my wrist, stopping me from typing. “I’m fully capable of driving myself to Maine.”
My teeth ground together again. “Let me at least give you my car.” I put my phone away, my fingers going to her face. “Say yes,” I growled, gazing at her lips, “because I’m not going to let you say no.”
She smiled through my grip. “Yes.”
“Good. Then, it’s settled.”
Except nothing was.
Not a goddamn thing.
Honey
Winter 1987
“We have an answer,” Dr. Katz said to the couple as she stood at the end of Honey’s hospital bed.
Several hours ago, the doctor had completed Honey’s abdominal exploratory surgery, the final test that needed to be conducted so they could get to the bottom of what was wrong. When Honey was out of recovery and placed in a private room, she eagerly anticipated for the doctor to give them her findings. Unfortunately, she’d had another surgery, so the couple had had to wait to hear the news.
Honey held her breath as Dr. Katz looked at the chart in her hands. “It’s endometriosis.”
Honey felt the tightening of Andrew’s hand as he held her fingers, and every fear she’d had was confirmed. This was the reason it had taken her so long to get pregnant, why she had miscarried after eight weeks.
If her husband wasn’t a doctor, she probably wouldn’t have had any of these tests done. But when things had started to get harder for Honey each month, she decided she needed answers. And Andrew fought to get them for her.
While Honey went through all the rounds of tests, she did her research, going to the Portland Library and learning everything she could on female infertility. She found there wasn’t a whole lot of information on the subject, but there was enough where she knew what she was facing.
Endometriosis was a term that had come up frequently.
There was no cure, and she knew it meant the chance of her getting pregnant was slim.
“It’s not the worst news,” Dr. Katz said. “But it certainly presents some challenges. I’m going to have you heal up and come to the office next week, so we can discuss things.” She put her hand on Honey’s foot, which was covered with the blanket. “Make sure to get some rest.”
“She won’t be lifting a finger,” Andrew said.
Dr. Katz nodded. “If you need anything, you have my home number.”
“Thank you,” Honey replied softly, and she watched the doctor leave her room.
Andrew was sitting in the chair beside Honey’s bed, and he squeezed her fingers until she finally looked at him. “You’re going to be a mother.”
“Please don’t say that.” She lifted the hand with the IV attached and covered her mouth with it.
“You want me to say I’m giving up? That I don’t think our dreams will eventually come true? Because I won’t do that, baby.” He kissed the top of her knuckles. “I will always be positive, and that’s one of the reasons you married me.”
Honey stopped fighting back the tears, and she let them fall. “I just want a baby.” She hated that the rottenness had returned to her stomach. The emptiness. The fear of knowing nothing would ever fill her belly, that it would be hollow and sad forever, was consuming her.
Today hurt as badly as when she had miscarried.
Except today, she’d found out how broken her body really was.
“You’ll have one,” he said, brushing his lips over her skin. “I promise.”
Honey was grateful to have such a wonderful man by her side. Someone who believed in her with a strength she didn’t have in herself. Someone who never gave up hope.
She rubbed her thumb across her husband’s face and whispered, “I’m so tired.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No.”
Andrew got up from the chair and climbed into Honey’s hospital bed. He was careful not to touch her stomach so as not to disrupt any of the incisions, and he settled in next to her. With him there, she felt like she could finally close her eyes.
“You’re going to be a mother,” he said right before she drifted off to sleep.
She was too groggy to respond, but if she had the energy, she would have disagreed with him.
Jared
Once I looked at my phone, I put my finger in the air, signaling I needed a minute, and I walked outside. As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I swiped the screen and held my cell to my ear. “Billie.”
“Hi.”
I fucking loved the sound of her voice. The simplicity of her greeting but how it was always filled with so much emotion.
“Are you having a good time in Maine?”
Several people walked past me, and I backed up to the very edge of the sidewalk, staying close to the brick building.
“It’s been an extremely busy day. That’s what happens when I return after a long time away.”
She had left Manhattan at five this morning, taking one of my SUVs north. I’d suspected she would be tied down with family obligations from the moment she arrived. It sounded like I was right.
I checked my watch and did the math, calculating it was after ten in the evening there. “You’re home now?”
“Tucked in my old bed like I’m seventeen again.”
My hand went to my forehead, and I brushed it through my hair. “Jesus, the thought of that is both incredibly hot and extremely inappropriate.”
She laughed, and then her tone turned serious. “I wish you were here.”
“Same.”
She was quiet for several seconds. “LA sounds busy.”
Traffic on Franklin Street was bumper to bumper. The sidewalk was just as packed.
Every city had the same noises, so she wouldn’t be able to tell I was actually in San Francisco.
“Nothing I wasn’t already expecting,” I answered, staring at the entrance of Basil’s, seeing the parties file in the door for their reservations.
All because of her.
“Are you going to be able to get some rest?”
“Mmm,” she groaned, and I could tell she was swallowing. I had a feeling it was probably wine. “I’m certainly going to try.”
“I’ll text you when I get back to my hotel. If you’re awake, I’ll call.”
She laughed. “You think a chat with you is going to relax me?”
I rested the back of my foot against the building. “After I tell you what to do with your hands, I have no doubt you’ll be asleep within minutes.”
“That’s worth staying up for,” she said, her tone changing once again.
I smiled and headed back toward the entrance. “I’ll try to wrap things up here as fast as I can.”
I said good-bye and returned to the kitchen where Marcus was in front of the burners, working several pans on the gas stovetop at once.
“The first is a vodka sauce,” he said the second I joined his side.
A pan of pasta was thrown in the air, sauce was then added from a different pot, and the two were combined. Once the ziti was well drenched, he dropped some of the mixture onto a plate and slid it over to me.
I grabbed a fork and waited for him to sprinkle the top with freshly grated Parmesan before I stuck several noodles into my mouth. I chewed the spongy texture, letting the flavor settle before I suggested, “Just a tiny bit of salt.”
He reached into a bowl next to the burners, pinched the white granules, and dropped some in the fry pan. He flipped the pasta multiple times, combining it all together, and then he gave me a new plate.
With a fresh fork, I took a bite, following the same process, keeping my eyes on the food. When I swallowed, I looked up and smiled at my friend. “It’s fucking perfect.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Add it to the menu and give me another plateful right now.”
His hand went to my shoulder, patting it hard with his palm. “Not yet. I’ve got a few more dishes for you to try.”
He moved several paces down the counter, picking up a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses, handing me one. We clinked them together and both took a sip.
“Was that her?”
I looked at him, my brows rising. “Who?”
“The girl you’re seeing.”
Marcus wasn’t my oldest friend, but he’d been around since college, and that was a hell of a long time ago. I didn’t discuss Billie with him, but I wasn’t surprised he could tell I was happy.
“I’m responsible for putting her to bed,” I said, “so we’re going to have to cut things short tonight.”
He took another drink, laughing. “Do me a favor. Don’t fuck this one up. I’d like to at least have her here for dinner.”
He had no idea what he was saying.
But I did.
And I wanted to tell him it was too late for that.
But it was pointless because I had a feeling the next time he asked me about the woman I was seeing, Billie would already be out of my life.
Honey
Spring 1987
Honey hadn’t expected to remember the last thing Andrew had said before she passed out after surgery.
But she did.
Every word.
And the next morning, when she woke up, he told her they could discuss her diagnosis whenever she was ready. Honey wasn’t. She wanted to heal and return to work and feel a little more normal before they talked about everything that was broken inside of her.
But while she was waiting to have that talk with Andrew, his words continued to haunt her, and she wasn’t able to let them go.
A week passed, and when it was time to go to Dr. Katz’s office, they still hadn’t had a conversation about it, but their OB/GYN didn’t need to tell them the difficulties they were going to face. As Honey stared back at her, her own eyes showed how petrified she was of this journey.
When the couple left the appointment, Honey vowed not to make any decisions yet. She wanted to see how her body responded if she dropped all expectations. If she gave herself freedom to enjoy things again, to experience sex when it wasn’t just to make a baby.
But when three months went by, three more instances of looking down and seeing red, Honey was ready to talk to Andrew.
She waited for him on the couch, knowing he would see her the second he opened the door, cuddled beneath an afghan her mother had knitted.
When he came in after his shift, he still had the doorknob in his hand when he said, “What are you doing up so late, baby?” He left his briefcase and jacket by the door and sat next to her.
Honey tightened the blanket around her. “Couldn’t sleep.”
His hand went under the afghan, and when he found her fingers, he leaned forward and kissed her.
She could smell the hospital on him. It made her love him more.
“You’re never awake when I get home from this shift.” His lips moved to her forehead. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She had to look away for a minute. Her thoughts were too heavy and all over the place. She had planned what she was going to say, rehearsed it many times, especially considering she had been on this couch for hours. But now that he was here, the words weren’t coming so easily.
“Honey …”
She was staring at the glass coffee table in front of them. She hoped, one day, it would be covered in small fingerprints, the sharp edges needing to be wrapped so they wouldn’t poke any eyes out, the ceramic vase in the middle removed so it wasn’t within reaching distance.
All problems she prayed to have.
That was why she glanced up at her husband, squeezing both of his hands, and said, “I think we should adopt.”
He clutched her back, and Honey saw the answer before he said, “Me too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it’s really something I want.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him. He was still in his scrubs and white coat, hair a little disheveled, a darkness under his eyes telling her it had been a long shift. But he looked at her with so much patience and love.
“Andrew, I can’t handle the letdown anymore.” She slowly tried to inhale, filling her lungs all the way. “Every month, without fail, it’s like clockwork. I get three weeks of hope and then a week of torture and then hope and torture. I can’t take it.”
He released her hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently caressing the edge of her eye, each swipe getting more of the wetness that had fallen. “I don’t want you to feel that way. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” He pressed his forehead against hers just to get closer. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Honey, and I want to take all of your pain and suffering in return.”
With each word Andrew spoke, Honey’s tears began to drip faster, and he continued to catch each one.
She loved him with an intensity she hadn’t known existed.
A feeling that went beyond words.
“Then, give us a baby,” she whispered. She clung to him with a strength she had to dig for. “Making you a father is the only thing I want.”
Andrew pulled his forehead away and placed his hand under his wife’s head, carefully laying her down on the couch. With a tenderness a husband only had for his wife, Andrew’s hands slowly moved across Honey’s abdomen, caressing the scars from her surgery before he took her clothes off.
Honey did the same with Andrew’s, unable to get close enough, her fingers touching every inch of his skin.
When they were both nude, they made love.
For the first time since they had decided to get pregnant, there wasn’t any pressure. Honey could enjoy his lips on her body and remember why they were there. She could feel a pleasure she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
And that night turned into one of the best she’d ever had.
Jared
I returned to Manhattan two days before Billie came back from Maine. My plan was to spend the entire time in the office. Work had suffered since I turned all of my attention on her. I had been delegating a lot of my responsibilities, putting off trips I needed to take just so she could spend the night in my arms.
It wouldn’t last forever. One day, picking her wouldn’t be an option.
But right now, she was mine.
And that was what I told myself every time I chose her over work.
With her gone, it gave me a chance to catch up. I wasn’t more than two hours into my day when an email came across my phone. It came from the account that had its own special notification, a sound that caused me to look at the screen, no matter w
hat I was doing.
This time, the email was from the credit card company, letting me know my statement was ready.
It was a card that served no purpose anymore.
Since the network at my office was the most secure, I used my desktop to log in. With the card not having a balance, I went into Settings and found the button that terminated the account. Then, I returned to my email.
Saved in the inbox were all of the monthly statements that had come in since the card was opened. They showed a zero balance, except for one month.
Embassy Jets, $876
The total cost I had paid for seats 14A and 14B.
Really, it was the cost Marcus had paid because the card was in his name.
Except Marcus knew nothing about any of this.
And after today, I was going to wipe the history from his credit, ensuring he would never find out. Not that he ever monitored it or needed access to his credit. I was the financial backer to Basil’s, which was the window I’d needed to set all of this up.
I cleaned out the rest of the inbox, leaving just the twenty-six emails from Billie. They were messages between the two of us where we discussed her services, the new ad she was promoting after the crash, and the reports she sent to show the results of the campaign.
All were addressed to Marcus.
Each reply I sent, I made sure to sign his name.
He didn’t know about a single one.
For now, the email account would stay open, but it was only a matter of time before it would get deleted too.
My life with Billie Paige … erased.
As though she could sense I was thinking about her, my phone lit up with her picture on the screen. It made me smile every time she called, the same way I was doing right now. I’d taken the photo last month when she was staring out the window in the backseat of my SUV, the sun just starting to kiss her face.
Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5) Page 93