Her Man To Remember

by Suzanne McMinn

  “Dig in,” he said when she didn’t start eating right away.

  She dipped a bite of fish in the tartar sauce, then in the ketchup, the way she liked it. When she looked up, Roman was watching her. His eyes were nice, if a little haunted, and the look he was giving her was appreciative without being leering. It was an oddly serious look, as if he were truly looking not at her but inside her.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll never be able to eat,” she said. “And I’m hungry. So stop it already.”

  He blinked, as if she’d roused him from some faraway place he’d gone for a second. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking—”

  “What?” She stuck the bite in her mouth, chewed. Joey’s deep-fried fish was the best on Thunder Key, which was why the locals flocked to the Shark and Fin.

  “I was just wondering if you’re from around here,” he said.

  “I’ve lived here as long as I can remember,” she answered. Which was actually true. So there. She hated lying to people, which was one of the reasons she avoided getting close to anyone. If Roman Bradshaw didn’t think she was nuts already, he would when he found out she’d lost her memory. And wasn’t doing a damn thing about getting it back because the whole idea freaked her out every time she thought about it.

  She was definitely screwed up. It wasn’t a little factoid about herself that she enjoyed sharing with just anyone.

  “What about you?” she asked to turn the tables.

  “I grew up in Manhattan.” He took a swallow of beer, put the bottle down. “All my life. My family runs a financial company.”

  He said it as if it were no big deal, which of course now that she’d spoken with Morrie, she knew it was. The zillion-dollar Bradshaw dynasty, that’s how Morrie had put it. Money running through his veins.

  Even wearing his only-slightly damp T-shirt and lean, mean jeans, Roman Bradshaw would never look like a regular guy. He was just too clean-cut, sharp, rich looking. He exuded power and wealth.

  He dug into the fish and chips.

  “So what do they think about you leaving the family business?”

  “Not happy,” he said between bites.

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind. Go back.” It just seemed too weird that he could leave his whole life behind. Especially since, unlike her, he could remember his life.

  “I don’t think so.” He looked her square in the eyes again. “My old life— That was someone else. Not me. Not anymore. I don’t even want to know that guy. He was a bastard. All he cared about was work and money. His priorities were all screwed up.”

  Damn. This was getting personal again. And getting personal about Roman Bradshaw was as dangerous as getting personal about herself.

  He stirred a finger of fried fish around in his ketchup.

  “My wife, she wanted me to slow down. Relax. Smell the roses. I completely ignored her.” He took a bite of the fish.

  Well, if Leah still thought he was trying to court her, this conversation sealed it that he wasn’t. He certainly wasn’t trying to impress her. Not when he kept telling her what an ass he’d been all his life. But actually, she was impressed. Roman had a way of facing himself that she envied.

  She was way too scared to face too many things about her own life.

  “It’s hard to lose someone you love,” she said softly. It was obvious he was carrying a big load of guilt on his shoulders.

  “Have you ever lost someone you loved?” His voice was quiet, but his gaze was intense in that way he had of making her feel as if he could peer right into her skull.

  She took a sip of her beer.

  “No, I haven’t,” she said finally, and she watched as something dark entered his eyes. She chose her words carefully. “I just…was imagining how it would feel, I guess.”

  He looked away. “You’re lucky.”

  “You think about your wife a lot.” It wasn’t a question. It was clear he thought full-time about the woman he’d lost.

  “Every minute.” Still no eye contact. “At first, I thought it was something you just got over. Like a broken bone. But it’s not.” He looked her straight in the eyes now. And the pain she saw there just about broke her own heart. “You don’t get over losing someone. Particularly when it was your own fault. But you can change. And that’s what I’m determined to do. I learned a lot—about myself, about her, about what really matters in life. And I have no idea why I’m laying all this on you. We just met yesterday. You probably don’t want to hear all my weird head stuff.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Had she actually said that? But she couldn’t stand how hard he was on himself, and she sensed he didn’t talk about his wife to just anyone. He was reserved, and yet he kept opening up to her. Maybe it was being on Thunder Key, or maybe it was just because she was a woman who’d made it clear friendship was all she had to offer. But the evident pain within Roman Bradshaw was impossible to ignore. “Hey, I have weird head stuff, too. I think I already made that pretty plain.”

  He laughed. “That’s right. We have something in common.”

  She smiled back at him. Damn those dimples of his. “You know,” she said, serious again, “you probably should see a grief counselor or something. I mean, I’m saying that as a friend.” And as a hypocrite, of course, since she’d refused to see a doctor about her own problems.

  He was shaking his head. “I’m all right. What I need is Thunder Key.”

  “There is something healing about the Keys,” she had to agree. “Sun, sand, sea, freedom. No shoes, no past, no problems.”

  He was looking at her oddly, but he didn’t ask what she meant. She was relieved.

  “You know, it never freezes here,” she said to defuse the strange moment. “And the sun shines almost every day of the year. That’s why they call it paradise. Even when it rains in Miami, it’s dry here. Key West is the driest city in Florida. If it weren’t for hurricanes, the Keys would be perfect.”

  Back to the weather. A safe topic.

  Roman seemed to take the cue. He opened Morrie’s account books. He asked questions as they continued eating, and she gave him answers. She was sure the Shark and Fin was a piece of cake compared to the business he was accustomed to helming, but Roman was a thorough guy, as he’d said. He didn’t miss a thing.

  Scary, that.

  The phone rang and she picked up.

  “Hello, Shark and Fin.”

  There was silence on the line, then— “I know who you are. I know what you’ve done.”

  She didn’t even feel the phone drop out of her hand.

  Chapter 5

  Her face turned completely white. The phone hit the wood floor with a thud. Roman thought for a second she was going to faint, but what happened was worse.

  He’d never seen anyone have a panic attack before.

  “Leah, what happened?” He reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold, shaking, and yet he saw sweat popping out on her brow.

  She grabbed her hand away, pressed both hands to her stomach.

  “Oh, God, I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, and then covered her mouth with one palm, twisted out of her seat, banging Morrie’s chair against the office wall.

  She rushed from the room, her eyes wild. Roman chased up the stairs after her. She tore open the door of her apartment. One part of him wanted to go back down to the office, find out who was on the phone, figure out what the hell was going on, but no way was he leaving Leah alone.

  He found her leaning over the commode.

  “Go away,” she cried roughly.

  “Not going anywhere.” He couldn’t see her face. She wouldn’t look at him. One hand was still on her mouth, and she just hunched there, trembling. He wanted to go to her, hold her, but he knew she wouldn’t want that. He felt helpless and he hated it. “Who was on the phone?”

  “Nobody. I don’t know.”

  “Then what—”

  “I’m telling you, I don’t know.” Leah’s head reeled. Had that voice been real? Or he
r imagination? God, she was freaked out from the two hang-ups earlier, and maybe she’d just thought she’d heard a voice say those words. Words she’d heard in her nightmares. And now she was out of control, in her bathroom, with Roman Bradshaw.

  Her every nerve ending tingled. Tremors possessed her. She couldn’t think straight to save her life. Racing heartbeat. Fear of…dying. The whole range of horror washed over her. It made no sense, never did. Panic attacks were hell and she hated them. It pissed her off that she couldn’t control them.

  “I’m all right,” she said. Thank God she hadn’t vomited. There was one small favor. “Leave me alone.” Please.

  “No, no, you’re not okay. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

  His voice was so comforting. If he took her in his arms right this minute, she’d lay her head back on his big shoulder and cry. But—no way was she doing that. She blinked fast, a couple of times.

  Deep breaths, deep breaths.

  “I’m really not going to explode or anything,” she joked. “It’s no biggie. Just a minor meltdown.”

  “Can I do anything, get you anything?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’m okay now,” she said after another minute. “I’m not going to be sick. Yay me.” She tried a half laugh. Take that, panic attack. She’d beaten it. For now.

  He helped her up. Her knees felt like Jell-O that wasn’t ready yet.

  “Come on.” He led her out to the love seat. She watched as he went into the kitchenette and found where she kept the glasses. He filled one up with water. “Drink.”

  She took a sip. It was hard swallowing past the lump in her throat. The panic attacks always made her feel as if she were choking.

  “How long have you been experiencing panic attacks?” he asked.

  “A while.” She set the glass down. Her hand barely shook. “It’s a little embarrassing. Actually, a lot embarrassing.”

  He sat down beside her. Not close enough to be touching, but almost. She avoided his laser gaze by staring at his jean-clad legs. He had very long legs.

  “Thanks for…being there,” she said. “Just for future reference, hanging out with me when I’m throwing up is above and beyond the call of duty.” She tried to laugh again, but it came out a little bit like a sob. She bit her lip and swallowed hard over the lump in her throat.

  She was surprised when she felt the warm tip of his fingers touch her chin, drawing her gaze up to meet his.

  “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I’m just worried about you. What happened down there?” He watched her, a furrow creasing his brow. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but he was still close. Way too close.

  She scooted a bit more into the corner of the love seat, shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just…one of those stupid panic attack things. Something gets in my head, and then all of a sudden every time the phone rings, I’m out of control. There were a couple hang-ups earlier, and now the phone is freaking me out.”

  “Hang-ups? Just today, or before?”

  “Just today. Probably wrong numbers.”

  “Joey said someone asked for you,” he pointed out. “Was that one of the hang-ups?”

  “Probably just a disconnection.”

  “What else prompts your panic attacks? I don’t really know much about panic attacks.”

  He seemed truly interested, but she felt strange having this discussion.

  “Anything.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to make sense, so if you’re looking for it to fit into some reasonable explanation, it’s not going to happen. Panic attacks defy logic.” She’d read up on anxiety in the small library at Thunder Key. There were certain medications that helped alleviate the symptoms in some people, but she knew that wasn’t the answer to her problem. There was something inside her head, in her memories. Something dark and frightening that came to her in bits and pieces and nightmares.

  She didn’t want to know.

  “I really can’t talk about this,” she told him.

  “Maybe you need to,” he pressed gently, his eyes somber.

  “You must be a sucker for punishment if you want to hear more about my problems,” she teased, trying to put the conversation on a lighter track. But the sadness remained in his eyes.

  “I’ve just figured out that holding something in doesn’t make it go away, that’s all,” he said. “That’s what I tried to do when my wife died. Hold it all in. I was afraid to deal with it.”

  He got up, walked to the window. Pushing back the sheers, he stared out at the sea.

  “How did she die?” Leah asked softly. “You mentioned it was an accident.”

  “Car accident.” He stood very still. “Her car went into a river.” His voice was low, pained. “They thought—they told me she drowned. I can’t even imagine what she must have gone through that night. It had to have been terrifying.”

  Leah didn’t think, just stood up, moved toward him. He looked so alone, silhouetted against the bright day outside.

  “It was unreal. The search went on for days. Her car wasn’t found right away.”

  Oh, God. How had Roman survived that kind of misery? Just the thought of someone being trapped underwater made Leah feel sick again.

  “I couldn’t believe it was true. I was sure they’d find her, alive. I hoped they’d find her alive. I didn’t want to give up hope. But then…there was no more hope.”

  “They found her body?”

  Days. Days of waiting for them to find his wife’s body, to drag it out of a river.

  He turned, and his unwavering gaze met hers. He was silent for a terrible moment.

  “No.”

  Leah’s eyes filled. It was killing Roman not to put his arms around her and say, But I’ve found you now.

  There was no way he could do that.

  “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to accept in my life,” he went on. “That she wasn’t found. That I wasn’t with her. That I didn’t do something, anything, different.”

  “Roman,” she whispered. Then her hand was on his, her soft fingers twining between his. “If you’d been with her, you might have died, too.”

  He’d thought of that. Plenty of times. And there’d been plenty of times he’d wished he had been in that car, that he had gone over that bridge with her.

  Until he’d come to Thunder Key again.

  “The hardest thing to live with is regret,” he said quietly.

  She watched him, her eyes still shiny, wet, hurting for him. It was so painful not to pull her closer.

  He settled for squeezing her hand. “Every day is precious, important, maybe the last one you’ll have.” He shook his head. “Now I sound like a greeting card or something,” he cracked.

  She smiled, which was what he’d been hoping she’d do.

  “I think you sound like a smart guy,” she said. She gave his hand a squeeze now. “Pretty inspiring, actually. Your wife was lucky to have you, whether you know it or not.”

  It was surreal, having this conversation with Leah. It hurt too much to go on with it. There were still too many things unsaid, but now they were things he had no choice about, despite his impatience.

  Slow, slow, slow. It was so hard to take things slow.

  The phone rang. She startled, her eyes flashing up at him, then away.

  “Do you want me—”

  “No.” She crossed the room, picked up the phone. “Morrie.” She sounded relieved. “Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” The conversation went on. Roman watched her for a long beat, then looked away, feeling stupidly jealous of the bar owner who could make Leah relax in an instant of hearing his voice.

  She finished the call.

  “Well, while you’re feeling inspired,” he said, turning back to her as she walked toward him, “how would you feel about a little walk on the beach? It’d do you good not to hear a phone ringing for a while, and the bar won’t get busy again for a bit.”

  He wanted her all to himself.

  She hesitated
.

  He added, “You know it’s National Take a City Boy to the Beach Day, don’t you? I’m sure you want to participate.” It was something Leah used to do all the time—just make up holidays. Any time he didn’t want to do something, she’d claim it was a national holiday.

  She smiled, a little nervously, but a smile just the same. “Okay. It would be good to get out of the bar for a little bit, anyway. You’re right, I really don’t need to hear the phone ring.”

  They walked downstairs, into the heat of the day. The beach outside the Shark and Fin was quiet, the water hypnotically smooth. They took their shoes off at the end of the wooden sidewalk that led off from the bar’s outside deck.

  The sand felt hot and grainy beneath his feet. He wanted to take her hand, but he restrained himself. They walked by the shore. A boat sailed along in the distance.

  “So what about people who don’t live near the water?” she said idly. “What do they do on National Take a City Boy to the Beach Day?”

  He noticed she was staring out at the blue sea as they walked, not at him. What was she thinking? He’d give anything to know.

  “They’re just out of luck,” he said. “Damn, you’re lucky.”

  She looked at him then, and her eyes sparkled in the bright sun. She laughed.

  He was the lucky one. He’d never felt luckier, ever. They walked for a while, talking lazily. Nothing personal. There was an abandoned lighthouse nearby, and she took him inside. From there they could see over the trees to the rooftops of the town, its crisscrossing streets forming a visual crazy quilt.

  “This isn’t the original lighthouse,” she told him. “The first one was swept out to sea by a hurricane. Several people died who’d sheltered inside.” Her expression looked serious, and she stared out at the sea. “I think about them being trapped—”

  Roman watched her. Leah had been trapped, inside her car. In that river. Did she remember anything about it? She’d admitted her fear of water. But when he told her about his wife’s death in a car accident—a drowning—she hadn’t seemed to feel anything but sympathy for him.

  “Sometimes, I dream about being trapped underwater,” she said softly, so softly he had to lean in to hear her.