by Olivia Miles
“If you had shown up at my door and asked if I meant it when I said I would move back here for you,” she said, “I would have said yes. I meant it. I still…” She shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. Let’s leave it at that.”
She turned on her heel and walked toward the door, the sound of her determined stride fading as each step created more distance between their bodies.
Luke felt the weight of her words. The answer he had been afraid to hear. She would have said yes. Then. And now?
She pushed through the door and he waited, hoping she would turn around, look at him, even come back to the table. But she didn’t turn around or even glance over her shoulder, and the door swung shut behind her, with only a cold gust of air filling the space she had left in her departure.
Let her go, he told himself. It’s what you do best.
He’d had his chance. With her. With love. Hell, even with marriage. And look at him now. He wouldn’t be going through all of that again only to wind up in exactly the same place. Only worse.
His mind flew to Helen, of how close he had come to leaving her that fateful day. Instead, he had poured himself into being the best husband he could be, only now, when it was too late. Helen was gone. She had loved him, died thinking he had loved her, and he had.
He replayed the day, imagining the alternative. Helen was in her studio when her aneurysm occurred. She was sewing, making a skirt out of soft pink cotton. If he had walked into that room and found her still sitting there, the machine still humming as she worked the foot pedal, would he have had the heart to tell her anything other than hello?
It was easy now, in retrospect, to focus on his state of mind at the moment, to remember the thoughts that had consumed his time. He and Helen were fading into a routine, their honeymoon phase was over, and all he could wonder was whether or not he could have something different—make that something better—with someone else. With Grace. It was so easy to focus on the drama of that relationship, of the excitement and the uncertainty it yielded.
He had loved Grace. Loved her for the sparkle in her eyes, for the sense of adventure in her spirit. For that restless need to fulfill herself in every possible way. And he had loved Helen. Loved the way she would sit at the sewing machine, making beautiful things, singing out of tune when she didn’t think he was listening. He loved them both, just differently. His downfall had been trying to compare his feelings.
Luke stood, suddenly knowing what he had to do. Slapping a twenty-dollar bill on the table, he pushed through the pub and out the front door, ignoring the blast of frozen air, his footsteps halting only once he reached the sidewalk and saw Grace standing in the parking lot, her back to him.
The air was still, the wind having died down with the temperature drop, and the only sound that could be heard was the crunch of the snow under his boots.
Luke watched as Grace stood in front of her rental car, keys in hand, but not moving. His breath was ragged, and he stood perfectly still, unable to move or take a step closer to her, fearful that if he did he might scare her away forever.
Suddenly she turned, her eyes locking with his across the stretch of the parking lot. Her mouth was a thin, flat line. The sparkle in her eyes was gone. Even now, she looked so beautiful, he could stand here staring at her all night.
“Grace,” he said, his voice husky. “Wait.”
He took a step, and then another, closing the distance between their bodies with increased speed until his arms reached out and grabbed hers, pulling the length of her close against the hard wall of his chest until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and hers began. His mouth found hers, hungry in its need to be filled with her taste. She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she pressed into him. His tongue parted her lips, exploring her greedily, and she responded, lacing her tongue with his, silently begging him for more.
Their bodies fused, and he tightened his hold on her, his groin warming at the sensation of her curves under the bulk of her coat. He closed his eyes, remembering the way she felt under his hands, the smooth flare of her hips under the cup of his palm, the excitement that tingled through him when his fingers traced lower.
Parting her legs with his knee, he pulled her closer, grunting as his tongue searched hers, his mouth guiding his way, all rational thoughts having escaped. He pressed his leg higher, feeling that warm space between her thighs, his belly coiling as she pressed against him.
He ran his fingers through her hair, letting each smooth strand lace its way through his fingertips. As his arousal mounted, he tore his swollen lips from hers, groaning as he buried his face in her warmth, his mouth exploring the crook of her neck, the delicate earlobe nestled in a mound of coconut-scented hair.
He pulled her close, and she curled her face into his neck, gripping him to her panting body until he couldn’t breathe. He gulped the cold night air, raising a hand from her waist to stroke her hair, and cradle her head. The lights from the pub flickered green and red, and slowly, effortlessly, it began to snow. Large flakes traced their way through the night sky, shining brilliantly in the backdrop of the blinking strings of lights, slowly coming to rest on the top of Grace’s head, where they melted into each rich, chestnut strand.
Luke smiled into her hair. After all this time, she had found a way back to him. He had dreamed of this moment so many times, of holding her in his arms, kissing her, just being with her again, and now she was finally here. And no matter how much he wanted to believe that this time she would stay, that nothing would come between them again, he didn’t dare.
He had loved and lost so many people, including Grace, more than once. He couldn’t make her stay with him any more than he could push her away—and God knows he had tried.
The only thing he could do was hold her tight, close his eyes, and live in this moment.
CHAPTER
21
Sunlight poured in through the gap in the drapes, stirring Jane from a deep slumber. She opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder, already knowing that Adam was not there by the temperature of the bed, the way the sheets were still tucked neatly in place, the blanket intact.
His side of the bed remained turned up, with the sham on top of the pillow, the comforter pulled taut. When he first started sleeping on the couch, claiming he had fallen asleep watching television, Jane had taken a strange pleasure in having the room all to herself, liking the fact that she could sit in bed reading longer, or crack the spine on her book if she woke in the middle of the night. There was something indulgent about having a bed all to herself as a married person; it was a rare treat.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t rare anymore. And the pleasure of it had long since been replaced with the heavy reminder of their circumstances.
Jane lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, listening for sounds of life. Adam often woke before her and could be heard making his breakfast of toast and coffee, usually stirring Sophie from her slumber. But this morning Sophie was with her mother and Grace, and that meant there would be no buffer, that when Jane went downstairs, she would be alone with Adam.
She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
She lay in bed for several more minutes, contemplating staying there until he left for “work,” as he often did on Sundays. And Saturdays. She was tempted, very tempted, but she also knew that would be the coward’s way out. Her husband was having an affair, and she wasn’t going to close her eyes to the cold, harsh truth for another day.
She changed quickly and ran a brush through her hair before slipping down the stairs. The house was unnaturally quiet without Sophie’s childish energy, and a pang squeezed Jane’s chest when she thought of the implications of divorce. There would be a handful of nights each week where Adam would have Sophie, when Jane would wake to an empty, still house. She couldn’t stand the thought.
It wasn’t fair.
Adam was sitting at the kitchen table, chewing on a wedge of toast, scrutini
zing the newspaper. Pausing in the doorway, Jane took a deep breath.
“Hey there,” she said, forcing her tone to remain light. She pulled a mug from the shelf and filled it with freshly brewed coffee.
“Hey,” was the grunted response.
She paused, waiting for more, and when none came, she pressed, “Sleep well last night?”
She regretted her words as soon as they had slipped from her lips. They seemed a calculated reminder of the fact that they no longer shared a bed and, with the exceptions of a few nights here or there, hadn’t in a long time.
Jane tried to do the math, wondering when it had all began. It had happened so naturally, so seamlessly, that she hadn’t noticed until it was already set in motion. Irreversible. Much like the affair.
If Adam was fazed he didn’t show it, instead shrugging noncommittally. “I guess.”
She waited for him to ask how she had slept, where Sophie was, something, but he only flicked the paper with his wrist, shifting his eyes to another headline.
“I waited up for you last night,” she said. She leaned against the counter and fixed a stony gaze on him. He didn’t meet her eye.
“I had a crisis at the office. We have a big meeting on Tuesday.” He flicked the paper again. “I thought I told you.”
“No,” she said, wandering over to the table and taking a seat opposite him. She took a sip of her coffee. It tasted burned and acidic, and she pushed it away.
After a pause she continued, “Sophie spent the night with my mother and Grace. I thought it would have been a good time to talk.”
Adam heaved a sigh and set down the newspaper. He turned to look at her, his expression hard and unrelenting. His eyes were deliberately flat and emotionless. Bored. “What is there to discuss, Jane?”
She flung her eyes open wide. “You. Me. What are we going to do, Adam?” Her voice was shrill and she pressed her mouth shut, angry at herself.
He thinned his lips and went about slowly folding his paper. “I don’t know,” he said.
A wave of fury heated Jane’s blood. “I can’t live like this much longer. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to our daughter.”
“Well, what do you want me to say, Jane?” He stared at her, his eyes unflinching, and something within her shifted. Who was this man?
A month ago—heck, even a week ago—she would have wanted him to say he was sorry, that he would stop seeing his floozy and make a determined effort to make this marriage work. She would have forgiven him, taken him back, looked toward the future, even. Now, sitting here, staring into his cold, ice-blue eyes, she wasn’t sure she could stomach that.
Adam had not only cheated on her; he had cheated on their family. He had betrayed her trust, broken her heart, and lied to her. And she had put up with it, hoping it would go away. Until today.
It stopped here.
“I want you to tell me you are not having an affair, that this is all a figment of my imagination.”
His jaw tensed and a shadow crossed his eyes. She held his stare in challenge, waiting to see if he would break. If he would have the nerve to lie to her face, when he was sitting so close she could smell the musk of his soap from his morning shower.
“Why are you causing trouble? I was sitting here, having a nice relaxing breakfast…”
She rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself. “Are you going to stop seeing her?”
He flashed her an angry look. “What do you think?”
She gave him a withering smile. “I don’t think you are going to stop seeing her. I don’t think you are willing to even try.”
Adam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“What do I want from you? What I want is for you to stand by the promises you made to me. What I want is for you to treat me the way you did when we first met.” She could feel her face collapse, and she blinked back the tears that prickled her eyes. “What happened to us, Adam?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We used to have fun,” she said. “You used to love me. You used to think I was pretty.”
“You are pretty,” he said, but his tone seemed forced, obliging.
It didn’t matter now, she told herself. He had vacated their marriage a long time ago, just as he had left their marriage bed. The only thing tying him to her was this house they both shared. And their child.
“I don’t think you’ve left me any choice,” she finally said.
He didn’t look at her when he said, “No, I don’t think I have.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, Jane.”
“Sorry?” She laughed bitterly. “For which part?”
He shrugged. “For all of it.”
“Please,” she hissed, pushing her chair back from the table. She couldn’t sit here and live this sham of a life for another minute. She had done everything she could to hold this together, to put on a brave face, and pretend nothing was going on. She would continue to pretend all right, but not in front of Adam. “You destroyed our marriage. And our family. But you will not destroy Christmas. Not for me, and certainly not for Sophie.”
She emptied her coffee into the sink and rinsed her mug. Fury blinded her vision and hot tears fell into the sink. She brushed them away quickly, before Adam could see the effect he had on her.
“If you want to have Sophie for Christmas, that’s fine,” he said.
Panic swept over her, stopping her pulse. “What are you saying?”
He stood, his face lined with anguish, and stared at her. “I’m saying that I’m moving out.” His voice was low and even. Determined, she decided, realizing with a sinking heart that he had known this all along but had been waiting for the right moment to tell her.
“Today?”
He nodded. “I think it’s best.”
The wife in her wanted to know where he was going, if he had somewhere to stay, if he would be okay, but she stopped herself just in time, clamping her mouth shut.
“Me too,” she said, her tone clipped.
She knew where he was going all right, and the thought of it only cemented her resolve. It was time to move on, start living her life again, instead of treading water in a marriage that was sinking.
“What will—” He stopped, his mouth thinning. “What will we tell Sophie?”
“I don’t think we should tell her anything until after Christmas,” Jane said. “It’s only a few days away, and she deserves to experience the magic of the holiday like every other child does. Our unhappiness shouldn’t spoil it for her. You can stop by in the morning, when she opens her gifts.”
He nodded wearily. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
Jane gave a mirthless snort. “Please.” She slammed her mug into the top tray of the dishwasher. “This was all your doing. You set this in motion.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been happy in a long time, Jane,” he shot back.
She met his gaze. “Are you happy now, Adam?”
He stared at her. After a pause he said, “Yes,” and Jane’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.
She gave him an icy smile. “Well, good for you. Then I guess it was all worth it.”
She turned and walked down the hall, her heart thundering in her chest. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, and her vision felt foggy. For a second she worried she might pass out, and she didn’t even bother to put on her coat as she grabbed it off the hook in the mudroom. She slipped on her shoes, not caring that they didn’t match her outfit, and walked out the back door of the house.
The snow on the back stairs hadn’t been shoveled and ice filled her shoes, melting against her bare feet. The wind cut at her face, slicing through her thin cotton shirt, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t until she had marched around the side of the house, down the driveway, and past two neighboring houses that the heat in her blood cooled and she finally shrugged on her wool coat, stuffing her frozen ha
nds deep into the pockets.
She walked in the direction opposite the route she knew he would take to leave, so she wouldn’t have to see him again, face another curt exchange. She walked until the street ended, and then she walked the cul-de-sac, plastering a toothy smile when Mrs. Banks drove past and waved.
She wouldn’t let him win, she told herself. If anything, she would show him. She would land on her feet, she would find happiness, she would be better off. Someday.
She gritted her teeth, thinking of what she had given up for that man—every inch of herself she had poured into domestic life, into creating a home for them, a family. Nearly six years of her life! And he had thrown it all back in her face, showing her it wasn’t good enough. It hadn’t made him happy.
Jane swallowed a sob and clasped a hand to her mouth, pressing her teeth into her fingers, stifling the sound that came from somewhere deep inside her. It was the sound of grief and pain so raw she didn’t know how to contain it. She knew that sound. She had heard it once before. When her father died.
She glanced around the street, hoping that no one had seen her, and then headed back to the house, her heart all at once quickening with relief and then sinking low when she saw that Adam’s car was not there. He was gone. The life she knew was gone. That quickly. It was all over.
She couldn’t go back in that house. Not when it was so empty and still. She needed to be with the few people left in this world who loved her, and who would never leave her. She needed to be with her daughter.
The roads to her mother’s house were cleared, and Jane spent the short drive trying to compose herself in a fruitless effort to disguise her anguish. By the time she pulled into the familiar driveway, her eyes were dry, if not a little skirting and wild, and her face was clear of any sign of tears. It was the best she could hope for under the circumstances.
She climbed the steps to the wraparound front porch and knocked on the door, smiling as she heard the faint trill of Sophie’s voice. “Mommy’s here!” The pounding of Sophie’s heels approaching swelled her heart and threatened to pool her eyes with fresh tears.