All I Ever Wanted (Of Love and Madness Book 3)

by Karen Cimms

  The succulent mouthful of lobster he’d just swallowed went down like a piece of shell.

  “Went down the wrong way,” he sputtered. He picked up his glass and drained it.

  She looked concerned until she he’d convinced her that he wasn’t about to choke to death.

  “Do you want more water?”

  “Yes, please.” He handed her his glass and gulped down half of it as soon as she set the refilled glass before him.

  “Are you always this thirsty?”

  He picked up the lobster cracker and went to work on the second claw. “Probably from being on the bike all day.”

  “Riding a motorcycle makes you thirsty?”

  “I guess,” he stammered. “I’ve only had it a little while. I never took such a long trip with it.”

  She eyed him warily. “You may want to get that checked when you get home.”

  Home—his home, not hers. His heart took a nose dive. “I will.”

  They chewed in silence, Billy still stealing glances and Kate pushing pieces of cucumber and lettuce around her plate. The silence grew uncomfortable.

  “I don’t ever remember lobster tasting this good,” he said, wiping melted butter from his hands.

  She looked almost relieved he had spoken.

  “Devin said the same thing.” She pointed to the cove with the tip of her fork. “The fact that earlier today it was still swimming in the back yard helps. Plus you said you hadn’t eaten since this morning. An old shoe drenched in butter would probably taste good about now.”

  He popped a piece of the tender white meat into his mouth. “Doubt it. You sure you don’t want to try?”

  “Positive.” She drained her wine glass, picked up the bottle, and poured more. “Are you sure I can’t get you something else? I have seltzer or I can make some iced tea . . .”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Coffee? More water?”

  “I’m fine, Katie, really. I don’t need a thing.”

  That was a lie. He needed her. The look he tried to convey said as much.

  In the soft light, it seemed she was blushing, but it could have been from spending the day on a boat. When she took a large mouthful of wine, he was convinced it was the former.

  “Well, I could go for some coffee.” She jumped up. “Coffee? All I have is decaf.”

  “If you’re making it, I’ll have some.”

  As she reached for his plate, he curled his hand around her wrist. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to freak you out. But you were here, and I had to see you.”

  She stared down at his hand. “I’m okay.” She nodded a little too enthusiastically. “I am.”

  As soon as he let go, she darted into the kitchen. She reminded him of a hummingbird.

  “Would you like me to set a fire?” He brought the remaining dishes in behind her and set them next to the sink.

  She began rinsing them and loading them into the dishwasher. “Sure. That would be nice.”

  When the coffee finished brewing, she joined him in the living room. She handed him a large mug and curled up on the other sofa, about as far away from him as she could get.

  “It’s unusually warm for this time of year,” she said. “Here, I mean. In Maine. Although I guess it’s warm back in New Jersey too.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I guess the weather isn’t all that different here unless you go farther north or inland. You go inland, it gets pretty cold.”

  They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in over ten months, but if she wanted to talk about the weather, then they would talk about the weather.

  “I noticed most of the trees are still green,” he said, giving her what she wanted. “The leaves are already turning back home. I thought New England was all about the amazing foliage.”

  “It’s been a strange year,” she said, quickly adding, “weather-wise.”

  “It certainly has.” His response had nothing to do with the weather.

  When she caught him looking at her, she averted her gaze to the fire.

  “You look good, Katie.”

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Thank you. So do you.”

  “Thank you.” The conversation was so strained it was painful yet funny at the same time. Either that or his nerves were getting the best of him.

  “How are you? Really?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. Better.” She sipped her coffee. She didn’t speak again at first, so he thought she was done, but then she surprised him. “It’s been like peeling an onion. I had to go all the way back to the beginning to get to the heart of it all. The cracks in my foundation were so deep, it took a while to get there, but I did it.”

  “Back to our beginning?”

  “Way before that, actually. Back to when I was a very sad, very lonely little girl. I never realized how much I’d buried.”

  “I’m sorry.” A lump formed in his throat. “You didn’t deserve it.”

  The fire turned her hair a reddish brown and cast shimmering golden light across her face. She looked like a goddess. “You’re right.” Her voice was soft, but confident. “I didn’t deserve any of it.”

  He set the mug on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Look, babe . . .” He tried to swallow the endearment.

  Before he could continue, Kate cut him off. “Not tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just be here for now.”

  “Okay.” He dropped back against the cushions. “Tomorrow, then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The house was silent except for the tick of the grandfather clock in the dining room, which, Billy noticed, chimed randomly. At least it was random according to his watch. His body cried out from exhaustion. The muscles in his legs and thighs vibrated and his back was stiff and sore, yet his brain was in overdrive, playing every possible scenario on rewind. Sleep seemed unlikely, especially with Kate less than twenty feet away. So close, yet still so far.

  He picked up the clock on the bedside table and was shocked to see it was after six, until he noticed the second hand wasn’t moving. He felt his way to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and squinted at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was time for a trim. And he’d have to pick up a razor tomorrow, and some underwear at the very least.

  Of course, that would depend on how their talk went. Kate might send him home. He’d seen a small crack in her resolve, and although she’d been shocked, she wasn’t angry. At least he had that going for him.

  He turned off the light and climbed back into bed. It was comfortable enough, but his mind wouldn’t simmer down. He rolled over, punched the pillow, scrunched it up under his neck, and lay back down. When that didn’t help, he threw off the covers. There was a bit of a chill in the house, so he pulled on the shorts and his old shirt and headed for the kitchen.

  Illuminated only by the dimmed sconce lights and the blue flame flickering under the tea kettle, he rummaged through the cabinets until he found a box of Sleepytime. He found a mug, dropped in a tea bag, and leaned against the kitchen sink, staring at his reflection in the wall of glass while he waited for the water to boil.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  He jumped. “Jeez. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry.” Kate gave him a sleepy smile. She was wearing a white robe covered with tiny pink flowers and ruffles around the neck. He’d never seen it before, and it was a painful reminder that she had a different life now, one without him. A hank of hair stood up at the back of her head. He crossed his arms and tucked his hands against his ribs to keep from reaching out to smooth it.

  “Can’t you sleep?” he asked.

  “Not really.” She pulled a chair from the dining room table, then sat with her knees tucked under her chin.

  He pulled down another cup and dropped in a tea bag. He poured the boiling water into both mugs and added a dollop of honey to Kate’s. The grandfather clock in the dining room proclaimed it was almost four as he carried the cups to the table.

 
; She blew on her tea and took a cautious sip. The silence between them was filled by a loud chorus of wind chimes outside the window. When he looked up, she was watching him over the rim of her cup.

  “Why didn’t you come for me?” she asked quietly.

  She couldn’t be serious. Hadn’t she insisted none of them come looking for her? How could she even ask him that?

  “I didn’t know where you were. Not till today. I left the minute I found out, honest.”

  “No, when I was in the hospital—in the psych ward. Why didn’t you come? You didn’t even call.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I didn’t know until after you’d already disappeared.”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away.

  He was trying not to lose his shit, but it was difficult. “I mean it. No one told me.”

  “Billy,” she said, her voice measured, “other than the past ten months, when did you ever go more than a few days without speaking to me? You mean to tell me you didn’t talk to me for what, a week, and you didn’t think something was wrong?”

  “Of course I thought something was wrong! I called you every day. Several times a day, in fact.” He tried to snuff out the fire that had ignited inside him as he struggled to recall what had happened. “Rhiannon told me you were angry that we’d made you see a psychiatrist. She said you were punishing me.”

  “Does that sound like something I would do?”

  He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.

  “No,” he answered, surprised at how calm he sounded. “It doesn’t. However, you must admit, your behavior hadn’t been exactly normal. It bugged the shit out of me, but she swore you were okay. Why would I think she was lying?”

  She gave him a baleful stare.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sure she lied plenty over the years. She went too far this time, though. She was texting me from your phone, posing as you and telling me you were fine but you didn’t want to talk to me.”

  Kate’s jaw pretty much unhinged. “What?”

  “Yeah.” He was still furious with Rhiannon, and he had to focus on finding his center before he was able to speak again. “Katie, believe me. If I’d known what had happened and where you were, they couldn’t have kept me away. I would have flown home in a heartbeat, and I would have torn that hospital apart brick by brick to get to you.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. Was any of this getting through?

  “I mean it. If I’d known what you had done and that you needed me, I would’ve been there. I didn’t realize how bad . . .” He remembered Rhiannon’s hysterical description of how she had found her mother, trying to justify what she had done and not done in keeping it from him.

  He reached for Kate’s hand again. This time, she didn’t pull away.

  “Listen to me.” He leveled his gaze with hers. “First of all, I never should’ve left. I was wrong, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself. But beyond that, you needed to be in that hospital. I would’ve been wrong to take you out, no matter how much you hated it. And as much as it would’ve killed me to see you there, the alternative would have been worse.”

  He couldn’t say the words out loud. He’d barely been able to think them, knowing she had wanted to die.

  Her eyes remained locked with his. Then she blinked and looked away. When she looked at him again, she wore the ghost of a smile.

  “Good answer.”

  They finished their tea in silence. He picked up both cups and set them in the sink just as the clock chimed. It was 4:18.

  He snorted. “That is definitely your kind of clock.”

  “‘A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.’ Jane Austen wrote that in Mansfield Park. Suits me, doesn’t it?”

  “It certainly does.”

  “There must be something in my genetic makeup that opposes time. I can’t seem to function within its boundaries.”

  She flipped off the light, and they headed toward the bedrooms. Billy stopped at the door to the guest room.

  “Well, good night again,” he said.

  She made no move to continue to her room, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching for her. He buried his hands in his pockets. For a moment, she looked as if she would say or do something, and he waited, hoping she would take the first step.

  She just smiled and nodded. “Night.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb, watching as she continued down the hall. Before she stepped into her room, she glanced over her shoulder.

  “Just want to make sure you get home safely.”

  She laughed, and he relished the sound.

  She gave an awkward little wave. “Good night, Billy.” She was still smiling when the door closed.

  “Good night, Katie.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Kate slapped at the button on her alarm clock. She’d barely had three hours of sleep. The last thing she felt like doing was waking up. She rolled over and closed her eyes until reality poked a finger at her muddied brain via the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through her open bedroom door.

  Her head snapped up. Charlie, who always slept at the foot of her bed, was gone.

  She flipped onto her back and tried to sort through the past twenty-four hours, but before she could give it much thought, she remembered why she’d set the alarm in the first place.

  “Shit.” She threw off the covers and groped for her robe.

  She was supposed to cover for one of the volunteers who had a wedding upstate. She grabbed her things and ducked into the shower. When she was done, she drew on a quick sweep of eyeliner and a light brush of mascara. She found a pot of lip gloss in one of the drawers in the vanity and dotted some of that on as well, all the while trying to convince herself she wasn’t doing it for anyone but herself.

  Although she looked somewhat brighter, she frowned at her reflection. “You’re not fooling anyone, missy.”

  She wiped off the lip gloss.

  The door to the guest room was open and she was surprised to see that the bed had been made. A half a pot of coffee awaited her in the kitchen. She gave it a sniff. Still fresh. She poured some into a travel mug.

  It was going to be another gorgeous day. The tide was coming in, and the sunlight sparkled on the gentle ripples. She grabbed her purse, keys, and coffee and stepped outside.

  Charlie lay stretched out in the sun. Not far from him was Billy, wearing nothing but the baggy cargo shorts, his hair pulled into a man bun as he worked through a series of movements using a long orange stick. She squinted. Was that her broom handle? His muscles rippled as he moved, and the pants, at least a size too big, threatened to slip over his hips. She was having a hard time remembering there was someplace she had to be.

  When he swung around and saw her, he smiled but continued whatever he was doing through a few more movements. Then he bowed toward the water.

  “You look nice,” he said, glistening and just a bit out of breath as she approached.

  “So do you.” She immediately wanted to bite off her tongue. She anchored her eyes on his face, refusing to allow them to drift over his bare chest, which was definitely boasting some new ink.

  “Heading out?”

  She nodded and took a sip of her coffee, praying for a modicum of composure. “I don’t usually work Saturdays, but I agreed to fill in for someone. I should be back by two.”

  “It’s okay. Charlie and I are getting reacquainted.” He hooked a thumb at the beast snoring in the sunshine. “Maybe we’ll take a walk, go check out that back yard.”

  When he smiled, her blood grew dangerously warmer.

  “I can see if they can find someone else,” she offered, immediately wanting to kick herself.

  He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Do you mind if I get on your computer? I’m having trouble connecting to Wi-Fi on my cell.”

  “Sorry. No comput
er. No internet. No cable.”

  “Seriously? It’s like living in the Stone Age.”

  “Kind of. Harold should be home most of the day. He could probably let you use his computer.”

  “Sounds good.” Billy glanced up at the house and then out at the ocean. “So, what exactly do you do?”

  “Do?”

  The corner of his mouth pulled up, and she felt her knees wobble a little. “Yeah. Do. Whatever it is, it must pay pretty well.”

  “Oh.” She followed his gaze around her yard. “It’s kind of a long story. We can talk later.”

  “Hope it’s nothing illegal.”

  She laughed nervously. “Yeah, I’m hooking on the side.”

  He didn’t seem to find that funny at all.

  “I’m kidding. My new best friend is a priest. Think about it.”

  As she turned to leave, Billy caught her arm. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead. Her eyes closed and breathed deep, the salty ocean air combining with the scent of sweat and pine from the nearby trees. Her heart galloping, she gave him a dismissive nod.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said, nearly tripping over her own feet. “Make yourself at home.”

  Snooping probably didn’t qualify as making oneself at home, but Billy knew so little about what Kate had been doing since she left, familiarizing himself with her surroundings might give him an idea.

  He poured another cup of coffee, then headed downstairs. After poking around in the rooms off the main living area, he decided to check out the rest of the yard. Barefoot, he picked his way down a steep trail that followed the path of a creek that ran into the cove. Rounding the embankment, he came to a small boathouse and beyond that, a dock.

  Charlie, who had meandered down alongside him, suddenly shot down the ramp and across the dock and dove into the water like Michael Phelps.

  “Charlie! Damn it! Get up here.” The dog paddled around the dock, swam past him, then back out again. He whistled. Charlie lifted his head, but he seemed more intent on a quick swim. Billy wasn’t about to go in after him, but he was ready to strangle him. He whistled again, but Charlie kept swimming in circles until he caught sight of the neighbor and made a beeline straight for him. He climbed up the bank and then trotted out onto his dock, shaking off the water.