“They’ve started to bring him out of the coma. It’s a slow process, I gather. And once he’s conscious…” He sighed. “We just don’t know.”
Nodding, Christina stepped away from the fence, holding out her hand. Scott took it, giving it a slight squeeze before leading her toward the house and up onto the porch, gilded in the late-afternoon sun. The white porch swing complained a little when they sat on it, laughing, but it held, and when Scott wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, and when she leaned into him with a sigh, he knew what bliss was for the first time in his life.
Then Gumbo scrambled up the stairs to join them, his nails clicking against the floorboards as he trotted from chair to chair, sniffing, tail wagging the entire time, until he collapsed with a great sigh in a splotch of sunlight at their feet, and Scott chuckled.
Christina smiled up at him. “What?”
“Just thinking how crazy I am about that dumb little dog. Not quite as crazy as I am about his mistress, but close.”
With a soft laugh, Christina lifted Scott’s and her linked hands to kiss his, then held it against her cheek.
“This is promising,” he said, and she released a breath.
“Had a surprise visit from my mother yesterday.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t you ‘oh?’ me. She said you’d been there.”
“Busted.”
“And how, exactly, did that come about?”
“I called Enid. Who was only too willing to help.”
“I don’t…oh. I guess I did give her my mother’s contact info in case of an emergency.”
“And she and I both agreed this definitely qualified.”
Christina rolled her eyes. “I think she likes you. My mother, I mean. Don’t think there’s much question that Enid likes you.”
“You think your mother likes me?”
“You have to read between the lines with Mama. And what I read was…whatever you said must’ve lit one heckuva fire under her butt. Not that things started out all that great, but…we began a dialogue, as they say. And kept it up until things started to make sense. And I realized…”
Christina lifted her eyes to Scott. “That she’d infected me with her issues. Put voices in my head. Voices that kept playing the same loop, over and over and over. Except…those voices lied, making me think…” Leaving the thought unfinished, she pulled her mouth into a straight line. “Not that I don’t have my own demons to face down. My father did abandon me. As did Chris, at least emotionally. He was also very controlling, even if I didn’t understand it at the time. But you’re not Chris. Or my father. And it was hideously unfair of me to tar you with their brushes.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, for…not giving up.” One side of her mouth lifted. “For sticking to the plan.”
“Who said there was a plan?”
She snorted. “Scott Fortune, you are the most focused person I have ever met. I seriously doubt you’ve ever let anything just happen from the time you could walk.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong. Because I couldn’t have planned your happening if my life depended on it. You, this,” he said, gesturing to the landscape in front of them, “was part of something else’s plan, believe me. All I did was…listen.”
“Point taken. But still, once you got on board with that…” She grinned up at him again. “You took steps, right? It’s okay, sweetpea—that’s just who you are. Anyway, I got myself off track. About those voices…”
She tucked her good leg up underneath her, leaning more into him. “There are good voices, the ones that lead you forward. Then there are bad ones, that hold you back. That keep you afraid. Only what I realized was, those bad voices, they don’t have any power unless you give it to them. Which is what I was doing. And I’m not anymore.”
“Huh,” Scott said, and Christina reared back to look at him.
“That’s it? Huh?”
“Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more. When you’re finished.”
Her gaze softened. “I do, actually.”
“Do, what?”
“Trust you. Trust…whatever it is between us makes me want to trust you. Even if it makes no sense on the surface.”
“Logic is highly overrated.”
She laughed and snuggled closer. “So I’m beginning to figure out. But I finally got it through my head that it’s like you said, that letting the past dictate my decisions, my life, is not only stupid, but counterproductive. I mean, there I was, yammering to all and sundry about all these plans I had to move forward, to become more than everyone thought I could be…but only as long as I could keep my heart locked up all nice and tight where nobody could get to it. And how dumb is that?”
“I assume that’s a rhetorical question—?”
“Because that’s what my mother was doing. Giving the past control. But you—” She sat up again. “Ohmigod,” she said, her earnestness about to crack his heart in two, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me! I’d be an idiot to turn that down because I’m afraid it won’t last.”
Scott shifted to cup her chin, hook her gaze in his. “You’re still afraid this won’t last?”
“Okay, so maybe afraid’s not the right word. But it’s not as if I can undo a lifetime of conditioning in a couple of days.” She stroked her knuckles across his beard-shadowed cheek, the sensation making his mouth go dry. And, in all likelihood, his pupils dilate. “I do love you, Scott. With all my heart. But that heart’s kinda bruised and battered, you know? I really don’t know how to be loved. So I need time. And patience.”
Gratitude and joy practically making him dizzy, Scott tucked her into his side again. Time, patience…those, he could give her.
“I know, honey. I do. That you can’t always make something happen, no matter how right it feels.” He let his fingers lazily track up and down her arm. “Take Blackie, for instance. The guy I bought him from really emphasized that you can’t will somebody—or something—to trust you, that it has to be earned. By proving, over and over, you can be trusted. For as long as it takes.” He paused, then said, “I was pushing you into something you weren’t ready for, and I apologize. Even the house…if it’s too much for you, if you don’t think you could be comfortable here, I’ll sell it and we’ll find something else.”
“But…you love this place.”
He set her apart, only to take her face in his hands and lock their gazes. “I love you a helluva lot more, sweetheart. A house can never be my life. But you already are.”
Now do you believe him?
Christina got up and crossed to the porch steps, wrapping one arm around the nearby column, feeling its strength seep into her very being. And with it, the last of the lies—that she was somehow less than, she had little to offer—finally dissipated.
This could all be yours, the voice whispered, if you’ve got the cojones to accept it.
The faith to believe you deserve it.
“I suppose I could get used to the house. In time.”
Chuckling, Scott came up behind her to slip his arms around her waist.
Deserve him.
Because not only had she never been “less than,” she was, and always had been, more than enough. For anybody. But especially for this man.
In whose fingers the ring sparkled. Hopefully.
Christina laughed. “You are one persistent cuss, aren’tcha?”
“That, or an idiot.” He turned her around, one hand resting gently on her hip, the ring still between them. “There’s a catch, though.”
She pulled a face. “Your father, right?”
“Hardly. I swear, that will be a nonissue as soon as he meets you. After all, you charmed me, right?”
; “I suppose that’s true,” she said, smiling, planting her hands on his strong, solid chest. “So what’s this catch?”
“That we don’t get a wedding band to go with this until you’re good and ready. When you’re as sure as I am, that this is no fairy tale. This—” his lips brushed hers “—is as real as it gets.”
“I know,” she whispered, holding out her hand so he could slip the ring back on her finger, where it belonged. Then she let him pull her into the circle of his arms…where she belonged.
Forever.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459219373
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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