“Like about the magazines under his bed?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever tell him you found them?”
“No.”
“Are they still there?”
“I have no idea.”
“So what do you think the lies are about?”
There was a long pause. Staring at the shadows cast by the low lighting in the mostly empty room, Annie waited. And then asked, “Do you think it has to do with Katie?”
“Probably.”
“I haven’t seen any sign of him around here.”
“He got caught there once. He’s smart enough not to let it happen a second time.”
“And he still denies having any association with her?”
“Completely.”
“You’re at school several times a week. Is there any way you can do some checking around?”
“Not without violating his trust. And I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.”
The pain and confusion in Becky’s voice jolted Annie’s heart.
“If you had it to do over again, Bec, would you still have had Shane?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even being a single parent?”
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice by a long shot. It’s a lot harder raising a child without someone there to back you up. But yes. I absolutely would do it all over again.”
They’d had the discussion before. Many times. A lot recently, as Annie had started entertaining the idea of having a family of her own. But things looked different when you were in the middle of them. And those were the times Annie most needed to be prepared for.
And she’d been thinking about them a lot in the last forty-eight hours.
“Do you ever think about what kind of father Luke might have been, if things had worked out differently and you’d married him instead of Danny?”
“Not anymore.” Becky’s reply was too quick and too loud.
“Really?” Annie pushed, just as Becky would have done with her. It was what they were about—helping each other to be honest with themselves. To face life head-on instead of running from it. “Not at all?”
“I don’t think so,” Becky said. “Of course I’m thinking about him. How could I not be? River Bluff’s a small town. I can’t even go downtown without the risk of seeing him.”
“Maybe if you talked to him it would help.”
“How? What could I possibly say—what could he say, for that matter—that would change anything?”
“I don’t know. He might tell you that it broke his heart to leave town sixteen years ago. Maybe explain why he went.”
“It would be good to hear.” Becky sounded as though she might start to cry. “But I can’t chance it,” she added. “Not with him planning to stay here. I can’t put the past to rest at the risk of jeopardizing the present.”
“And you think speaking to Luke would do that?”
“Yes.” Her tone was unequivocal.
“Why?”
“Because once we open that door, where are we going to go from there?”
“Who knows?” Annie thought about Blake. About possibilities. And impossibilities. “Maybe you could be friends.”
“No.” Another definite response. “I loved him too much for that.”
Annie’s heart ached for her friend.
“Maybe, if you talked to him, you’d find out that things have changed. That you’ve changed. Maybe it was just a puppy love that has lingered in your mind, grown larger for the lack of resolution, and it would fade away if you gave it a chance.”
“Is that what happened with you and Blake?”
The question stopped Annie short.
But at the same time, it was comforting to know she wasn’t alone. That maybe Becky would understand the sudden doubts that were assailing her. Frightening her with their intensity. Their waywardness.
Was she not as healthy emotionally as she’d believed she was? Had she just convinced herself out of a need to make it so?
Pulling her legs up Indian style beneath her, Annie hugged the pillow to her midsection. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“Several times over the past day and a half I’ve hoped that I’m not pregnant.”
The resulting pause scared her. “You’ve changed your mind?” The question came slowly, as though Becky didn’t quite understand.
“No.” Annie didn’t think she had. Unless she wasn’t going to be stable enough to be everything her child would need her to be.
“Then what?”
She was embarrassed to say. Afraid to say. Afraid to know what it all meant.
“If I’m not pregnant, then I’ll have an excuse to make love with Blake again.”
The words were worse said out loud than they’d been in her head.
“Don’t you think that’s telling you something?”
“He’s a great lover.” The statement was beneath her.
“It’s just physical, then? There’s nothing wrong with that between two consenting adults.”
No, it wasn’t just physical. The sensual aspect of her encounters with Blake, while phenomenal, had always been more like a wonderful bonus than the substance of what they shared. She’d always believed that was what had made them so great.
And was the source of her problem now.
“You knew I was still in love with him, didn’t you?” A tear dripped onto her pillow.
“I was pretty sure.”
“So why did you let me do this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?”
If anyone could have convinced her it would have been Becky. But…“Probably not.” Annie had been so certain she was in complete control.
A hard-won control that had given her the confidence to think she could be a mother. And cope with anything.
“Maybe loving him isn’t a bad thing.” Becky’s voice was soft, but not tentative. “Did you ever think of that?”
Both cheeks wet with tears, Annie shook her head. And then realized her friend couldn’t hear that.
“It is a bad thing, Bec,” she said, knowing that she spoke the truth. “Whatever pulls the two of us together also keeps us apart. We aren’t good for each other on an elemental level. Our love hurts us, because we’re both so aware that we’re letting the other down. But it’s in ways we can’t help.”
Those words didn’t sound good out loud, either, but they rang true.
“That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard,” Becky said.
“I know.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Becky asked, and Annie thought she detected a hint of a smile in her friend’s words—and tears there, too.
“I love you, Bec.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
CHAPTER TEN
ONE OF THE THINGS Blake had learned in his two years of struggling with the gift of getting his life back was that he would not ever, ever get behind the wheel of a moving vehicle after having more than two beers. He’d done it once. And missed hitting an innocent child by about two inches.
The incident had sobered him for good. He’d not been drunk since.And he wasn’t tonight. But he’d had three beers.
As soon as Luke was gone he relocked the Continental and, pocketing his keys and cell phone, set off on foot. He’d hitchhike into town. Maybe stop and get a sandwich someplace. As small as River Bluff was, he’d have to go twice around the town before he figured he’d be ready to head back to his car and return to San Antonio, unless he found somewhere to stop off first.
He headed down Main Street. Past the Longhorn Café. Sandra, the night waitress, was on duty tonight. He could see her in the window. Pretended not to notice her welcoming smile as she spotted him.
He’d been in one too many Wednesday nights in a row. Must have given Sandra the wrong impression. Blake was definitely not interested in a night or anything else with her, and he walked on past.
No one
was hanging around the River’s Run building, like one might see outside the San Antonio Gazette. Or, he expected, any other major paper across the nation. Passing a couple of gift shops, a lawyer’s office and a barbecue place, Blake headed toward the clinic and the houses beyond. He could always walk out to Cole’s place. If his friend was there, he’d have something for Blake to eat, pour him some black coffee and then drive him back to his car.
And if Cole wasn’t there, Blake could let himself in with the key his friend had given him, and wait for him.
He could also keep walking.
Or he could quit lying to himself—something he swore he’d never do intentionally to counteract those times his head played tricks on him and led him to believe things that didn’t actually exist—and just admit that he knew where he was going.
The place he’d been longing to visit for the past forty-three hours and twenty-one minutes.
The place he’d known he’d end up at when he left his office in San Antonio earlier that evening.
He had no business being there. Couldn’t stay. Was under no illusions whatsoever regarding the future. But he thought he could justify one more visit.
ANNIE WOULD HAVE LIKED to be falling asleep half an hour after hanging up the phone with Becky. Instead, she was lying on her makeshift bed on the living-room floor, staring up at the ceiling and looking for honesty, if nothing else. Her cheeks sticky with the residue of tears, she thought about getting up and going to her real bed. Running from it was stupid. Immature.
She thought about taking a hot bath.Or calling her little brother.
She thought about…
Answering the door? Who would be dropping by at 9:30 on a Thursday night without calling first?
Tugging down the wrinkled and worn Texas A & M T-shirt she’d pulled on over her sweats, Annie ran for the door, fearing bad news. If something had happened to Cole, or June or…
“Blake?”
She glanced past him, wondering if Cole was with him. And didn’t see a car. “How’d you get here?”
“Walked. My car’s still out at the hospital.”
“Why?” She stood in the doorway, frowning, trying to make sense of what was going on. To figure out what was wrong.
“I left it there. Hitched into town, didn’t think I should drive.”
“Have you been drinking?” He didn’t look like it. Or smell like it. But…
“I had a few beers with Luke earlier.”
How many were a few? Blake had never been a heavy drinker.
“Not really enough to do damage, but I don’t take chances.”
That sounded familiar. “Is something wrong?”
“Maybe.”
Realizing that she was keeping him outside, Annie stepped back and held open the door. “Would you like to come in?”
He moved past her, continuing into the living room. And stood staring at the pillows and blankets spread on the floor. A cord dragged across the middle of the room, leading to the alarm clock she’d set to the right of her makeshift bed.
“You have a guest.”
“Just me.”
His gaze was piercing. “This is for you?”
“Yes.” She looked straight at him, daring him to make something of the information. Let him think she was crazy. Didn’t matter to her one way or the other what Blake Smith thought of her.
Because no matter how she did or didn’t feel about him, he was not going to be a part of her life.
Other than if you’ve conceived, in which case he’ll be stopping by to pick up his child for visits occasionally, a little voice reminded her.
If she were pregnant now, she could end up seeing Blake on a regular basis for the rest of her life. The prospect was almost as painful as it should have been. How could she possibly think that seeing a man whom she loved but could never have on a regular basis was a good thing? Unless she was some kind of masochist.
Her father had been the ultimate masochist. He’d hurt himself to the point of choosing to die. Raising a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.
Spilling blood all over the floor of his shop.
“What?” she said, as Blake continued to watch her.
“You used to do that,” he stated.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she had a pillow to hold. “Do what?”
“Go off someplace. I never knew where you went, but you always got that same pained expression on your face.”
No one had ever told her that. Not even Becky. Annie would have liked to know. Had no idea that her expression was so readable.
“Why didn’t you ever ask me about it?”
Hands in his slacks pockets, he stood there, looking more handsome than any forty-year-old man had the right to look after a full day’s work and a walk from the outskirts of town. “I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
Such a Blakelike response. And so frustrating.
“I didn’t know you even noticed,” she said. “Or cared what I thought about.”
“Of course I cared!”
“You never said you did.”
“I wouldn’t have married you, if I didn’t care.”
She stood toe to toe with him, chin slightly raised as she looked him in the eye. “Caring takes many forms, Blake. You have to communicate what you want for other people to understand and give it to you.”
“I’ve never been much of a talker. You know that.”
She did know. And here they were, after six years of separation, right where they’d been so many times before in their relationship. Caring, but unable to connect on that deep level that kept two people together.
Or at least gave them a hope of making it.
“Why’d you come here tonight?”
He glanced down. “Why are you sleeping on your living-room floor?”
Annie thought about telling him her bed frame had broken. Or that she had a leak in the bedroom ceiling. She was tempted. But she’d never been able to lie to Blake.
Knowing she was probably going to regret having him know the truth, she said, “Because I couldn’t get back in my bed after sharing it with you.”
She’d made it through the confession without showing obvious emotion. Inside, however, she was falling apart. She needed this man. God, how she needed him. Just for now. For tonight. Just for a moment. While she figured out where she went next in this crazy life of hers.
It happened every time. Just as soon as she thought she had things in order, as soon as she was on board with the plan, there was another twist.
“Why not?” His words were dangerously soft. He hadn’t moved, but he felt closer.
“I was afraid I’d miss you too much.”
His eyes narrowed. Darkened. “You want me back in your bed?”
Annie shrugged uncomfortably. Not liking the way he was putting her on the spot.
“Why did you come, Blake?”
“The same reason you’re sleeping on your living-room floor.”
Yeah. She’d been afraid of that. And hoping for it, too.
“What are we going to do?”
“Do you want me in your bed tonight, Annie?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“You’re the one who says words are so important.”
Tilting her head, Annie studied him. From the short tousled hair, past the tie loosened at his neck, the legs that seemed to go on forever. “What do you want, Blake?”
“My needs are simple,” he said. “I want to lie in your bed, take you in my arms and forget that there are a million reasons I shouldn’t be there.”
She wanted that, too. Making love with Blake again wasn’t going to solve anything. Or change anything.
Grasping his hand, she started to lead him back to her room.
He didn’t budge.
“What?” she asked, glancing back at him. And only then realized how horrible she must look. Old
sweats. Hair tangled around her shoulders and down her back. Tear-streaked, makeup-free cheeks. She wasn’t a twenty-year-old anymore, who could get away without the camouflage makeup provided.
“Say it, Annie. Tell me that you want me in your bed tonight.”
Why she resisted, Annie wasn’t sure. But something stopped her from doing what he asked.
“We aren’t good for each other, Blake.”
“I know that.”
His easy acquiescence surprised her. And saddened her. Though she’d known the truth, his validation still hurt. Which only proved the danger she was in, standing here talking to him. Contemplating more.
“We’re too different. Our personalities, emotional needs, they don’t complement each other.”
“I know, Annie.”
Sincerity rang in his words. And, surprisingly, calmed her.
“And you still want to spend the night in my bed.”
“I still want to take you into my arms and hold you awhile.”
It made no sense, what they were doing. And yet it felt completely right.
“I want you in my bed tonight, Blake.”
She knew, as soon as she said the words, that she’d just crossed another line, into territory so unfamiliar she’d have no hope of traveling there without getting lost.
BLAKE MOVED SLOWLY, entering Annie, pulling back, returning and finding peace, as well as passion in the movement. He’d loved her well that night, finding things in her he’d never found anywhere before in this life of his. Giving and caring, certainly, but so much more than that. She accepted him just as he was now, without any expectations. Or a need for things he’d never be able to give her.
In Annie’s arms, he was finding unconditional love—something he’d lost in the crash that had taken his parents when he’d been too young to completely understand the changes that had been wrought in his life.This was the third time they’d come together that night. Silently. Seemingly understanding that words would only come between them, not help them. He reached for her and she was there. She reached for him and he couldn’t deny her.
He loved her slowly this time. Savoring every nuance, every sensation, his eyes focused completely on hers as he slid in and withdrew in long, slow strokes, no less passionate for their lack of fervor. He’d stripped her of her clothes hours before—and she’d reciprocated.
The Baby Gamble Page 10