by James, Sandy
With a curt nod, he went into the kitchen. I could hear him moving things around, and he came back in with one of those flexible blue packets you freeze and then put inside a cooler. “Better than ice.” He sat back down on the coffee table and folded it over my injury. “We should go home.”
Tears flooded my eyes before I could stop them. “I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin...everything. Last night was still fantastic.”
I sniffled and nodded. “I wish I could explain it so you’d understand.”
With a shrug, Mark took off my other boot. He got up, grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, and settled my injured ankle on it. He sat next to my foot on the coffee table, holding the cold pack and idly stroked my calf through my khakis. “Don’t you love me, Jackie?”
I love you with all my heart. “Did I ever tell you I was only nineteen when I got married?”
“What does that have to do with my question?”
“David—”
He shook his head. “You’re breaking the first rule.”
“I know, but hear me out. Please.”
Mark gave me a quick nod.
I heaved a deep sigh and dove in headfirst. “David was the first guy—the only guy—I ever loved. He was the only man I’d ever slept with. I think marrying your first love isn’t necessarily the right thing to do. You never have to face that...that...hurt—that horrible hurt that comes with losing your first and only love. I went through my entire adult life thinking that my life was his, and when he left me, I thought I didn’t matter if I couldn’t be with him.” Mark started to say something, but I cut him off. “My life wasn’t my own because he was my beginning and my end. I thought we’d be together forever. I never learned how to get over a lost love. Something every teenager learns, I never did.”
“Angela Kramer.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My first love. Angela Kramer. She broke up with me the week before the junior prom because Scott Fitzpatrick had a Camaro.” Mark sighed. “She broke my heart.”
I took a deep breath, hoping I was getting through to him. “I’d never had my heart broken until the year I turned forty. My husband of twenty-one years came home and told me his secretary was pregnant with his child—his twenty-fucking-year-old secretary. I was suicidal.” I couldn’t believe I had finally admitted that frightening reality to myself, let alone aloud and to Mark. “I’m not sure I would have lived through it if it weren’t for Patrick and Nathaniel.”
Mark’s dark eyes locked with mine, and I was so intimidated that I almost glanced away, fearing he would discern the depth of my feelings. “I’m not going to leave you, Jackie.”
Tears brimmed my eyes again, spilling over onto my cheeks. “No one ever means for something like that to happen, but—”
“I’m not going to leave you, Jackie. I love you.”
I just shook my head and let my chin drop to my chest. “You can’t know that.”
His heavy sigh floated through the air, settling on my heart like a tremendous weight.
I love you, Mark.
I’d admitted it to myself. Why in the hell couldn’t I say it to him?
“You don’t believe me. You think I’m just like that bastard ex-husband of yours. Not all guys are like that. Some of us mean what we say and do what we promise.” He stood up, came to me and put his finger under my chin to force my head up. “I love you, Jackie Delgado. I won’t look for other women. I won’t fool around. I promise.” He caught one of my tears with his thumb. “I’m breaking my own rule, but I need you to know something. I was married to Elaine for sixteen years, almost seventeen. And I never strayed. Never. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“But—”
“Just shut up and listen to me for a minute.”
I nodded and sniffed back some more tears.
“When Elaine got sick, I had well-meaning friends—guy friends—who thought I might be...lonely. They tried to set me up with women, but fuck that. I didn’t care how sick she was, I wasn’t going to some other woman just to have sex. Sex is great, but without love that’s all it is. Sex. I didn’t have sex with you, Jackie.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. “Silly me, I thought we did.”
His hand cupped my cheek as I turned my face into that wonderful, loving palm. “I made love to you because that’s exactly what it was—an expression of my love. I’m a one-woman man. I’ll always be a one-woman man. And you’re that woman. I. Love. You.”
I started to cry again. God, I felt like a stupid yo-yo. Cry. Laugh. Cry. It spilled out of my lips before I could even stop it. “I love you too.”
“Told you so.”
Time to laugh again. Then Mark bumped the coffee table and I hissed at the resulting pain.
“I’m going to get our stuff together and throw it in the car. We’re heading back home, and we’re going to get that ankle x-rayed.” He ran his fingers lightly down my leg. “I suppose sex is out of the question.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I picked up my sock and threw it at him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mark pulled the Accord into the garage, then came around and helped me out. After getting me settled on my new crutches, he grabbed our duffle bags and cleared a path for me into the house by holding open doors and kicking shoes out of the way.
I was so tired I could barely see straight. The ankle had throbbed all night as it continued to swell and turn some disgusting shades of blue and purple. I tried to tough it out, insisting I didn’t want to ruin our trip, but by supper it was obvious the mini-vacation was over. Hard to feel sexy or enjoy the wilderness when you’re in that much pain, and we couldn’t even cuddle because I had my ankle propped up on pillows. Neither of us had gotten much sleep, and we left hours before dawn to get back home.
“I still wish you’d let me take you to the hospital,” he scolded.
I teetered on my crutches, put my injured foot on the floor to regain my balance, and grimaced. “I don’t need an x-ray, and I sure don’t need to spend four hours in some E.R. for them to tell me it’s just a sprain.” I sounded as grumpy as I felt. Tired and in pain were a bad combination. “The crutches are enough. Thanks for stopping at the pharmacy, and thanks for buying me the ibuprofen. I need a handful right now.”
Mark grunted a reply that I figured was caveman speak for, “You’re welcome.”
“Dad! You’re back early!” Carly called from where she sat on the barstool, eating what looked like Fruit Loops. She fixed her eyes on my crutches. “Ms. Delgado? What happened to you?”
“She sprained her ankle. Where’s Kat?” Mark asked.
I followed his gaze to two enormous Nikes he had kicked aside by the door and realized very quickly exactly who they belonged to.
Oh, shit.
Nate suddenly appeared in the hall, blushing all the way as he tugged on his t-shirt.
Oh, shit. At least his jeans were still on.
Carly confirmed what I had already figured out. “Nate stayed over last night, but I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
Oh, shit.
“We were watching movies, and I–I just feel asleep on the couch.” Nate used that sheepish voice he always trotted out when he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You’re home early.”
Nate really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut.
How had I missed his car? It wasn’t in the driveway, and I hadn’t taken inventory of the ones parked on the street. Of course, I hadn’t known there was a reason to check them for a familiar, weathered black sedan.
Mark’s ruddy face and clenched fists told me he was trying to contain a potential nuclear meltdown. Nate was in for it. So was Kathy. My problem was I didn’t know where I fit into this whole ridiculous nightmare. My personality split right down the middle and began to tug me in two different directions. Was I going to react as Nate’s mother or Mark’s girlfriend? Even worse was how would Carly’s teacher handle all of this?
Just call me “Sybil.”
Mark’s hard gaze eventually settled on Kathy. She would be victim number one. “Young Lady,” he began as I saw her wince, “you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.” He inclined his head toward Nate. “Did he stay here all night? In your room?”
Kathy wrung her hands, clearly tongue-tied.
“Well?” Mark shouted. “Did he stay in your room?”
“Yes,” Nate replied, followed quickly by, “sir. But nothing happened. We just wanted to hold each other.”
Oh, Nathaniel. You’re lying through your teeth. You always tug on your right ear when you fib.
I saw the mushroom clouds in Mark’s eyes and tried to reduce the number of ensuing casualties. “Nate, you need to go home. We’ll talk about this when I get back.”
Mark’s fatherly indignation was redirected at me. “That’s all you’re going to say to him? Your son took advantage of my little girl.”
“I’m not your little girl anymore,” Kathy shouted, finally finding her voice—her very loud voice. Stomping her foot like a child detracted from the overall message. She stopped wringing her hands and stepped closer to Nate, threading her arm through his and interlacing their fingers. The intimate, loving gesture made my heart ache for them. “I’m Nate’s girlfriend.”
I’d never seen Mark so angry, and, despite how much I loved my son, I understood Mark’s reaction. I also figured I needed to get Nate out of there. Fast. “Nate, go home. Now.” This situation needed someone to diffuse the potential for a nasty, ugly argument.
Nate stared at the crutches for a moment and then at me, but I shook my head in response to his unasked question. There was enough to deal with at the moment. I could explain the stupid sprain to him later. He gave me a quick nod and pulled away from Kathy before he shoved his feet into his shoes, grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, and left through the garage.
“Mark, I think I should go too.” Then I stupidly realized my chance for a ride had just walked out the door. If I wanted to go home, Mark would have to drive me.
“You need to stay here for a day or two,” he said in the same scolding voice he’d used with his daughter.
I bit back a sarcastic retort.
Carly, who’d been watching the whole episode with wide-eyed astonishment, came to stand next to me and adopted a motherly tone. “You can’t go home, Ms. Delgado. You need someone to take care of you.” She picked up my crutches and moved them out of my reach. “Dad, why don’t you carry her into the family room? I’ll get some ice for her ankle.”
“I should really go home,” I insisted. “Carly, do you think you can catch Nate for me?” She didn’t budge.
“I told you, Jackie,” Mark scolded, “you should stay here, at least for tonight. You can’t get up your stairs. Hell, you can’t even walk.”
Kathy’s face quickly flushed crimson as she wagged her index finger at her father. “Oh! So it’s fine if your girlfriend spends the night, but if my boyfriend stays—”
His interruption was swift and loud. “It’s not the same thing!”
“Bullshit,” sweet, little Kat replied.
“She’s hurt,” Mark said through clenched teeth.
“She wasn’t hurt when you two went to the cabin. Did you sleep on the couch there, Daddy, or in the spare bedroom? Did you?” Mark glared at her. “I didn’t think so.”
Score one for Kathy.
This was going to get worse before it got better. Carly was staring at her feet, and I wasn’t sure it was my place to step into the mix now that Nate was gone.
Boy, oh boy, was he ever going to get it when I saw him again.
Then I realized I was being a hypocrite. Nate was an adult, albeit a young adult, but an adult nonetheless. What he and Kat were doing wasn’t really any different than what Mark and I were doing. He obviously didn’t feel the same way. I guess being a parent of a son is different from being the parent of a daughter. Shit, David would probably be patting the kid on the back.
Kathy and Mark had stopped shouting at each other and were now trying to set a record for time spent in an angry stare down. He finally uttered a curse and strode over to me. He scooped me into his arms before I could protest and marched me into the living room. I heard footsteps stomping down the hall followed by the slam of a bedroom door and assumed she’d removed herself from our company.
Setting me down on the sofa, he returned to the kitchen. I could hear him rummaging around, slamming cabinets and digging through things until he returned with a big plastic bag full of ice. I tried not to wince when he propped my foot on the coffee table and put the compress on my ankle a little bit more forcefully than necessary. I wasn’t about to scold him as he went back to the kitchen.
Mark said something to Carly before she came to sit on the end of the sofa. I leaned forward to shift the ice to the worst of the swelling.
“Ms. Delgado?”
“Hmm?” I looked around for a pillow, but the only one I could find was on the far chair.
“Do you think Nate and Kathy had sex?”
Holy shit.
She actually asked me that.
Aloud.
“Well, Carly...I don’t know. But if they did, I’m sure it’s not anyone’s business except theirs.”
“The hell it’s not!” Mark came into the room, carrying a glass of orange juice and two ibuprofens. He handed them off to me. I was touched that—despite the high drama surrounding our arrival—he remembered I needed something for the pain. “Here, take these. I’m going to make some coffee.”
“Thank you.”
He just grunted a response and went back to the kitchen.
“I think they had sex,” Carly stated as casually as if we had been discussing the chance of precipitation. She fixed those big, brown eyes on me. “You and Dad are having sex too, right?”
I choked on my orange juice, barely able to keep from spewing it across the room.
Now what?
A legal scale suddenly appeared in my thoughts as I weighed my options. I could lie to her. But Carly was perceptive enough to see right through it. The girl was fourteen going on forty. If I told her a lie, not only would she know it, but I’d also look like an absolute moron and a bald-faced liar. She’d never trust me again.
I could tell her the truth. But it really wasn’t something I thought I should be discussing with a fourteen-year-old.
Damn it all anyway.
“Well, um...Carly. Your father and I are—”
“In love,” she said with a quick nod.
“And people who are in love—”
“Want to show each other how much they care,” she said, finishing my thought. “Mom told me sex is wonderful, but it’s better to wait until you’re married. She said sometimes people don’t wait, but that doesn’t make them bad.”
Mark took a couple of steps into the room and evidently heard the conversation because he quickly turned on his heel and retreated back to the kitchen.
Coward.
“Kathy and Nate probably didn’t want to wait. Mom said when you have sex too soon in a relationship that it can kill it. You should love each other first.” Carly slid a hair band off her wrist, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and tied it. “Having sex becomes more important than learning to love. I think Mom was right.”
“I think she was right too,” I replied.
“Dad loved Mom so much, I didn’t think he’d ever fall in love again.”
The girl was the epitome of honesty.
She twisted her ponytail around her finger. “But I think he’s in love with you.”
I shifted uncomfortably, trying to move the ice that was now hurting more than helping. I always hated icing an injury almost as much as the injury itself, but I had to admit I was more uncomfortable having this type of conversation with Carly.
Elaine had obviously had “the talk” with her daughter, and I wasn’t sure Carly needed a surrogate mother—especially one who was now sleeping w
ith her father.
“And you love him.” Her words were a statement, not a question. “I think he loved you right from the start. I could see it. You, too. You loved him too.” The kid was insightful beyond her years. “I suppose it’s okay if you two spend the night together.” She leveled her gaze at me, with her eyes serious and her mouth drawn thin. “Just don’t let it mess you two up. Okay, Ms. Delgado?”
“I really think it’s all right if you call me Jackie now.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I promise not to at school.”
Mark must have decided it was safe to come back into the room. He’d probably been listening for a break in the intense conversation. He carried two mugs of what I fervently hoped was strong coffee. “Cream and sweetener.” He handed me a cup bearing Garfield’s image.
“Thank you.” He settled on the arm of the sofa, sipping his coffee. “Your daughter and I were having a nice little chat.”
“Girl talk.” Carly got up and headed back to the kitchen.
“Girl talk, huh?” Mark asked after she had left. “I think she misses her mom.”
“I think so too. Elaine did a great job raising those girls.”
He snorted. “Looks like she didn’t get everything important across to Kat.”
I sipped the coffee, trying to think of what would be the most appropriate thing to say. Then I found some courage. “Mark, they’re not babies. I know you don’t approve. I don’t, either—but Nate turned nineteen last week. I assume Kathy’s the same age.”
“Just turned nineteen too. She’s a baby.”
“She’ll always be your little girl, but she’s a young woman with her own life now. It’s hard to let them go. I know.”
“Your kids won’t turn up pregnant with the guy running out the door the minute he finds out.”
I took major offense to the inference that my Nate would knock up Kathy and leave her high and dry. “My boys would never do that to a girl.”
“See? Even you called her a girl.”
I had to think about that for a second. I guess our kids will always be our kids. “Point taken. Look, I don’t think they should be...you know...getting physical. But at some point they’ve got to make those choices for themselves. I think my boys learned something from my mistakes, and I hope to hell they don’t follow in my footsteps.”