“If you wanted children, there are ways,” Zane said. “Creative approaches.”
“What about carrying on the Shaw legacy?” she asked.
“I’m not sure there’s much to worry about there,” he said. “It’s not like we’re the Rockefellers or something.”
“What about your eyes?” she asked.
“Eyes?”
“I want a baby with your eyes,” she said.
His heart turned over, swear to God, right there in his chest. He couldn’t get a large enough breath to fill his lungs. For the first time, he understood how much the cancer had ripped from her. The chance to have a baby with the man she loved. Did this mean she loved him? Don’t get ahead of yourself. Focus on her, not your own selfish thoughts.
“I’m going to get better at this. I want to be better. For you.” He placed his hands in her hair. “Sophie thinks I should try and find my mother.”
“Why?” Honor’s eyes hardened like that hard chocolate shell over ice cream.
“Closure. Knowledge. A way to end my abandonment issues. Stuff like that.”
“Do you want to?”
“I didn’t think so, but maybe. I’m not sure we can find her. If I find her, I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to meet her, anyway. Plus, it feels disloyal to my dad in a certain way.”
“Find her first, then decide,” she said.
They were interrupted then by the news that the food was ready. He took her hand as they crossed to the yard to the outdoor table. This hand, this girl, fit perfectly in his.
Chapter Twelve
Honor
* * *
FROM YEARS OF SLEEPING in narrow spaces as a child, Honor could make herself like a board and stay that way throughout the night. She woke the next morning on the very edge of the bed of the guest room at Brody’s with Zane’s scent on her hands. Zane was in her bed. There was no need for making herself small this morning. He made more than enough room for her. She rolled over to get a good look at him in the soft morning light. He slept on his stomach with his arms wrapped around the pillow and his right cheek pressed into it.
After dinner, they’d disappeared without apology to their friends into the guest room. She blushed, recalling the events in the dark. .
Her stomach growled. It was after nine on a weekday morning. She should get up and check her messages. Brody didn’t have to head back to the city until that afternoon. He might want to spend some time together before he left. She slipped from bed carefully, so as not to wake Zane. He needed his sleep and a lot of water to recover from their antics between the sheets. She padded to the dresser. Her sleep shirt was still folded neatly in the dresser. They hadn’t bothered with pajamas.
After she slipped the long shirt over her head, she grabbed her cellular phone from the charger. No messages or texts from anyone, including from Tennessee. No news was not necessarily good news. She should be worried, but with Zane here, she wasn’t. A surge of joy rushed through her. Zane loved her. She loved him. He was big enough to fill her entire world. If she had to be glued to his side until they found Gorham, so be it. She could imagine worse prison sentences.
The smell of bacon brought her back to the present. Was Kara cooking breakfast for them? No, she had to work this morning. Was Brody cooking? Last time he tried that he’d almost burned down the kitchen. As she contemplated this, Zane stirred. He jerked upward and looked around the room like he didn’t know where he was. Hair and eyes wild, he blinked before breaking into a very satisfied looking grin.
“It wasn’t a dream?” he asked.
“No.”
“Get back in here.”
“Do you smell bacon?” She crossed the room and got back into bed.
“I smell bacon, but I’d rather smell you.” He pulled her close and placed his mouth against her neck.
“No kissing. Morning breath,” she said.
“I’ll just kiss your neck then.” He did so, nibbling away like she was a pastry until her stomach growled so loud they both burst into laughter.
“We burned a lot of calories last night,” she said.
He raised his head. “Best exercise ever.”
She traced the outline of his strong jaw with her fingers. “You’re the first man I’ve ever stayed all night with.”
He leaned back against the headboard. “No way.”
“Think about that.”
“It’s good, right?” he asked.
“Very good.”
“We’ve been a couple of idiots,” he said. “Last night proves it.”
“We’re a little slow on this particular subject.” She touched the vein that ran up his forearm. The blood that fueled his heart ran through that very spot.
“I mean, seriously, who is this stupid?”
“People like us,” she said.
“Let’s not be those people anymore.”
“We can’t just suddenly morph into more enlightened beings,” she said with a laugh.
“Maybe that’s what being in love does. Makes us better and braver.”
“You sound like Jackson.” She spoke softly as she played with the golden hair on his wrist.
“I feel like Jackson this morning. That’s what you do to me. I might start writing poetry after breakfast.”
She laughed. “Maybe leave that up to Maggie.”
“What? You don’t believe in my talent? I’m crushed.”
“I believe you could do almost anything, Zane Shaw. Except maybe write poetry.”
“I’m going to prove you wrong. I’ll start right now. Roses are red, Violets are blue. This morning is beautiful just like you.”
Her heart might burst. Had he finally come to her? Was this it? Her great love had finally arrived. “My turn. Roses are red, Violets are blue. You love me and I love you.”
“You love me?” he asked.
“I love you.”
“I could spend the rest of my life staring at your face.”
A sliver of doubt chilled the warmth in her stomach. Was it just her looks that he liked? If she grew fat or old or maimed, would he still love her? Or could it be true that he loved everything about her, the parts of her that she’d believed were dark and ugly? Did he see something beautiful inside too? The awful voice was there now, screaming in her head. You’re too ugly and stupid for anyone as great as Zane. He can’t love you for real.
“What happened? Where did you go?” he asked.
“Nowhere. I’m here.” But the hollowness in her voice gave her away.
“Tell me.” He tilted her chin and she had no choice but to look into those eyes of his.
“What if I got fat? You know I’ll get old. Will you love me then?”
“The way I feel about you has more to do with what’s on your inside than your outside. What makes you even think about that?”
“The sullen farmer’s wife told me no one would ever love me. I was too dumb and ugly.” She’d attempted to toss it out like something that didn’t bother her anymore. So much for that idea. Tears choked her and blurred her vision. It still hurt. Even after all this time.
“I want to kill that woman,” Zane said.
This made her laugh through her tears. They were so much alike. “Anger first, sadness later.”
He smiled as he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “That’s the pattern, yes. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for all the people who’ve hurt you. If I could, I’d eliminate them from the earth and wipe your memory clean of all the bad stuff.”
“But you can’t. Nothing can erase the past.”
“I’ll try like hell to give you the best future I can. And love you so well that my voice is the voice you hear.”
“What will your voice say?”
He looked away, briefly, as if thinking, before looking back into her eyes. “My voice will whisper in your ear. You’re smart, kind, brave, and resilient. I admire you more than anyone I’ve ever met. I’ll be by your side as long as you’ll have me.”
“Maybe
you are a poet,” she whispered.
“If I was, you’d be my muse.”
Chapter Thirteen
Zane
* * *
ZANE STOOD at the open window of his apartment looking out to the street below. He didn’t have a performing bone in his body, but this morning his throat ached to sing. His feet itched to two-step down the main street of Cliffside Bay wearing a suit with a skinny tie and shiny black shoes swinging a cane like Fred Astaire in those movies his dad loved. A suit! Love did strange things to a man.
Had the sky ever been this blue? The sea air flirted with the birch trees across the street. Leaves fluttered like happy butterfly wings. The scent of coffee from Martha’s stand drifted through his window. Buckets of flowers in front of the grocery store adorned the sidewalk in vibrant shades. The sidewalks of Cliffside Bay bustled with townspeople doing ordinary morning activities, but had he ever really seen the street? How had he not taken note of the quaint flower boxes that hung outside the windows of Miss Rita’s dance studio? Or the sounds of delighted shouts of children from the small park next to his building?
A few cars plodded down the main street toward the beach. By mid-morning, the town would be packed with beach goers, but for now Cliffside Bay seemed sleepy and unhurried. Surfers trudged up from the beach with their boards at their sides.
Lance and Mary drank Martha’s coffee on the bench outside the grocery store, perhaps talking about plans for the bookstore. He hadn’t noticed before, but Mary was pretty. Maybe it was the company of Lance, but her worried, often pinched expression had been replaced by one of engagement and amusement. Could there be a romance brewing there? No pun intended. He laughed at his own bad joke. This being in love gig made him foolish. Who cared? Bring it on. He was happy.
Lance looked happy himself, all tanned and relaxed. Leaving New York had been the right choice. That said, a bookstore was an entirely different enterprise than managing hedge funds. For one thing, it was harder to make a profit. But what if it were combined with a soda and coffee shop? Martha could expand into the bookstore. They needed a way to get people in and interested in buying a book. Could Violet’s shop feed into it as well? Maybe the whole enterprise should be combined into an old-fashioned soda fountain with books, unique gifts, candy, ice cream and treats. They could tear down walls and open the layout into a more inviting atmosphere. Outdoor seating could be added for warm months. With a little panache, the place could become a hangout for local young people.
A flock of sparrows settled in the oak outside his window and sang for him. Yes, they seemed to sing just for him. For me, because I’m in love.
Honor’s perfume lingered in his nose despite his shower and shave. How did anyone smell that good? Or feel that good? The way she’d surrendered to him last night had touched a part of his heart he didn’t think existed, a secret chamber that had Honor’s name etched with the silky strands of her hair. He knew better than to hope, but there it was anyway. Endorphins rushed through him. Those dreaded chemicals he’d tried so hard to squash because they pushed reason aside and filled him with mad hope.
Could this last? Or would Honor eventually decide he didn’t have what it took to keep a woman like her satisfied or happy? She might grow restless like Natalie and before he detected what was wrong, she’d dump him, not for a granola dude like Manbun Guy, but a sophisticated rich guy. Maybe a billionaire she met at one of Brody’s business meetings. She’d look at Zane one day and think—he’s nothing but a bartender. Poor and shackled with his father’s medical bills.
Would she though? Don’t be a fool and ruin this. Honor wasn’t like that. She was mature and independent, yet kind and generous. All that outward sass hid an awful terror. Nobody wants me. She was so much more than her spirited, polished persona. Under her defense mechanism, there was a woman made of fortified steel, like the scrap metal of the finest chassis ever built. She’d made her way in a world that wanted to squelch her and make her small. She’d risen despite it all.
And she fit with him—his own baggage and hurts—her abandonment issues a great partner for his own. She saw right through all his bravado with the lens of a soul who had been tested from the moment she was born. Her mother chose drugs over her. She never knew her father. The men who had hurt her—he wanted to rip them apart limb by limb. Last night, as she fell asleep in his arms, he swore right then and there that no one would ever hurt her again. Not if he could do anything about it.
Later that day, Zane swam laps in the pool while Honor worked on her laptop under the shade of the awning. When he finished, he hopped out of the pool, intending to make them a sandwich for lunch. Honor looked up from her work as he approached. “I need to go to L.A. tomorrow for a meeting,” she said.
“I’ll go with you.” No question. He couldn’t let her go alone. It wasn’t safe.
“You don’t have to. I’ll hire the security firm I use for Kara. They’ll send someone.”
“I want to go anyway. Bodyguard or not.”
“We could stay overnight, maybe? Have a little getaway.”
“Our first getaway. Along with the bodyguard. Very romantic.”
“We’ll make sure he stays outside the hotel room,” she said.
“Tell them to send the best they have.”
“Will do.”
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and went inside to make them lunch.
As he put the sandwiches together, he thought about Los Angeles. He hadn’t been back since he moved back to Cliffside Bay. When he left, he’d vowed never to return. There was nothing for him but bad memories. However, now might be the time to confront his past to ensure he didn’t make the same mistakes with Honor as he had with Natalie. He needed to know what he’d done to drive Natalie into the arms of another man. What had he done to crush her love for him? A Maya Angelou quote popped into his head. When you know better, you do better.
God, I hope that’s true.
The next day, a car arrived for them with a driver and a bodyguard to drive them to the city. In San Francisco, they boarded a flight to Los Angeles in First Class seats. Honor always flew First Class, apparently. Tons of miles so I’m always upgraded, she’d told him. All morning, he fought with himself. She runs in circles you don’t. Not a big deal. She loves you. Don’t blow it.
By the time they’d reached L.A., he was convinced First Class was the only way to fly. So what if the woman he loved made more money than him? If she didn’t mind, why should he? Fat chance and good try. But he was working on it.
After the driver dropped them and the bodyguard at Honor’s meeting location, Zane wished her luck and wandered down to the lobby. His plan to see Natalie had been loosely formed in the wee hours of the morning. After going back and forth about whether or not he should call on her, he ultimately decided it was the perfect opportunity to do so. He punched Natalie’s work address into the Uber app on his phone. From her social media profile, he knew she still worked in the same building. Minutes later, a car arrived. As he slid into the back seat, he almost made a run for it. But no, he had to do this for Honor. For them.
Minutes later, he walked into the lobby of the skyscraper where Natalie worked. The smell of coffee and garlic from the Italian restaurant on the first floor turned his stomach. Nerves. One foot in front of the other. That’s all it took to be brave. He rode the elevator up to the eighth floor. How many times had he ridden this elevator when they were dating to take Natalie to lunch or pick her up after work? How innocent he’d been, so sure everything was going as planned. His wheelbarrow had been only half full of baggage at that point. Natalie filled it all the way.
The receptionist was not the same as almost four years ago. Thank God. If he’d been recognized he’d have sunk through the floor in embarrassment.
“Is Natalie Moore in today?”
“Yes. She’s in the office this afternoon. May I tell her your name?”
“Zane Shaw.”
She picked up the phone and spoke into
it, nodding her head. “She said she’ll be right out.”
He paced by the windows. Smog hung over the city like a dirty blanket. Traffic was backed up for miles on 405. He didn’t miss this.
The memories of the night she broke their engagement were as clear as the layer of smog. He’d come home after a dinner out with the Dogs. Everyone had come to town a week early to help him celebrate before the wedding. He’d asked them all to dinner, knowing the next few days he’d be too busy to spend any time with them. They’d had steaks and good scotch and talked about the old days. Buzzed and full, he happily let himself into the apartment he shared with Natalie.
Nearing midnight, the apartment was dark. He almost tripped over the suitcases stacked in the foyer. They were a new set, bought for the honeymoon in Hawaii. Had Natalie decided to pack already? This wasn’t like her. She was a last-minute type of person. He took off his shoes. She would be asleep by now and he didn’t want to wake her with his footsteps on the hardwood floors. But then he heard the soft clink of ice cubes in a glass as he passed through the living room. His gaze found the sound. Natalie sat in dim light by the window. She held a tumbler in her hands. A drink? This late. Not like her. The streetlights outside their windows tossed shadows on her face.
“What’re you doing in the dark?” he asked.
“We need to talk.”
Her voice had that husky quality she got when she drank, like smooth whiskey. He teased her about it sometimes.
“What’s up?”
“You should sit for this,” she said. “I poured you a drink.”
A glass of scotch waited for him on the coffee table. “You’re scaring me. Why’re you drinking at midnight? Don’t you have a fitting in the morning?”
“That’s just the thing. The fitting.” She started to cry, her shoulders shaking so the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass.
Alarmed, he sank to the floor in front of her. “Has something happened?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m in love with someone else.”
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