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A Side of Faith, Hope and Love: The Sandwich Romance Novella Collection

Page 17

by Krista Phillips


  She stood frozen. Her husband was kissing her. His hands moved up her arms and caught her cheeks, his thumbs caressing her skin. Her heart constricted and she leaned toward him, the ache of so many lost years melting her resistance.

  She lifted her hands to his chest and moved closer, desire ricocheting through her body.

  His hands wove through her hair as he pressed the kiss deeper, tempting her to join him.

  The top button of his shirt begged to be undone. She started to comply, but when she shifted her feet, something mushy oozed between her toes.

  What—?

  She pushed away, her breathing stilted, and looked down. The bowl lay upturned on the floor, noodles and sauce now covering the floor and her feet. Her voice stuttered as she tried to get a hold of her senses. “I need to clean that up.”

  “Later.” He pulled her back to him, lowering his lips again.

  But this time, sense overrode want, and she pushed him away. “No. I—we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  His mouth tugged up into a heavy, heat-filled grin. “Why not? We’re married.”

  Her hand shaking, she kneeled on the floor and scooped the spaghetti into the bowl as she worked to control the yearning still pumping through her blood. “Because. I’m just not ready.”

  The heady fog of the moment began to fade, and her brain started ticking off the reasons she should not give in to her husband.

  With every scoop of noodles, the list got longer.

  Nothing had changed.

  They’d separated eighteen years ago because he was a dreamer and she just wanted to settle down and stay put. If she were honest, the problems hadn’t started that day. They’d always been there. He’d always been pressing her to think about a great future, and she’d always been irritated and brought him back to reality.

  She’d held him back.

  Like she would now, because neither of them had really changed.

  Adam still wanted to go and do big things. He hadn't said so in so many words, but she could see it in his eyes. He was a scatterer, not a planter.

  And Tilly still wanted to stay and be content impacting the small world around her.

  Giving into Adam would just be repeating the mistakes of their youth.

  You could change, Tilly.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to listen to the quiet words spoken to her heart. Panic bubbled up in her stomach like acid scorching and destroying everything in its path.

  The moment she gave in, Adam would announce a transfer to some far flung city in the United States, or even some dream to be a medical missionary in Africa. And how could she compete with that?

  No, she was happy here. Satisfied. God wouldn't ask that of her, and she wouldn't give it.

  By the time she stood, she set the bowl on the table with a heavy thunk, determined to be stronger this time. “Nothing has changed, Adam. I got caught up in the moment and—I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

  Not trusting herself, she whipped around and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. Not even bothering to change clothes, she threw herself on the bed and curled up on her side. The empty spot next to her, the spot she’d grown used to over the years, now stretched before her like a desert—bare and depressing.

  What if Adam didn't leave well enough alone? Tonight had only proven her worst fears, that she was still in love with her husband, and he still had the power to love and crush her all at the same time.

  She couldn't let him in again. She was fine on her own, like she'd been for the last eighteen years.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Tilly prayed again. God, please. Please fix this. Make things go back to normal. Please. I don't know how much more I can take.

  ***

  Tilly took a deep breath as her hand molded to the twelve-pound ball she held to her chest. She tuned out the encouraging voices of her friends behind her and opened her eyes, focusing on the ten pins down the lane.

  All the frustration of the last few weeks—of having a live-in husband—was built up in her muscles and needed release. As she looked at the pocket, she gathered all her conflicting emotions and channeled them into her throw as she pulled the ball back, then released it with flawless technique.

  The ball rolled toward her sweet spot, curving at the last minute to blast into the side of the headpin.

  Cheers erupted from her team as all ten pins flew from their spots with a loud racket.

  She turned and smiled, throwing her arms in the air in victory, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

  If only the knot in her belly could be plucked away as easily as bowling pins.

  But no. Adam had been a constant presence in her house this last week, even more so than before the kiss, and as long as he slept just one floor below her, the knot would remain.

  She couldn’t avoid him much longer. She’d skipped church. Stayed in her room until he left each morning. Worked “late” each night until she was sure he’d be asleep, and tiptoed up to her room as a precaution on the night she’d found him asleep in front of the TV. She was a prisoner in her own home.

  Thankfully, Tuesday was bowling night, so she had an easy reason not to be home on her night off.

  Her flimsy excuses would only last so long, though, and she’d love to live in her house again, not hide.

  But doing that with him living there was too dangerous for her heart.

  She needed to get rid of her husband.

  Lauren stood to take her turn, and Beth patted the seat beside her. “Girl, sit. We need to chat before my turn.”

  Tilly sank into the seat. “If it’s about Adam, save it. I’m having an Adam-free night, so his name is not allowed.”

  Her perky friend, who looked much younger than her thirty-five years with her high ponytail, just laughed. “Funny. I hadn’t even mentioned him, yet you just said his name twice.”

  Ignoring the observation, Tilly grabbed her Dr. Pepper fountain drink and took a sip as Lauren took her first turn. She released a little early and earned a split for her efforts. “It’s okay, Laur. You got this.”

  The older woman, almost fifty, rested her hands on her hips and sighed. “I’m losing my touch.”

  A player on the other team earned a strike at that moment, sending cheers from the other team.

  Tilly shrugged. “Always next time. And you are queen of the spare on a split. Go get ‘em!”

  Beth flicked her on the knee as Lauren turned to take her second turn. “You're avoiding me. Seriously, you okay? I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. I need to figure out how to”—get rid of my husband…but that didn’t sound very nice.—“how to get on with my life. And right now, bowling seems like a good first step.”

  Her friend arched her eyebrows. “You’ve bowled with us every Tuesday night for the last six years. I don’t think it can qualify as a first step.”

  “Fine, let’s call it a next step then."

  Beth nudged her in the shoulder. "You know, you could always try to work it out with your hubby. I mean, you are married, right?"

  Tilly pressed her hand against her forehead, a familiar ache budding. "It'd never work." Although hadn't she had the same thought over the last week? Normal is what she wanted. And how much more normal could she get than being married to her husband of twenty-two years? Maybe he was done wandering around the world.

  But then again, what if he wasn't?

  She barely survived him leaving the first time. Giving him a second chance to crush her heart? She wasn't sure her heart could take it.

  Every time she tried to come up with a solution, that was always where her conclusion settled. Tilly glanced at her friend who wore a cocky, know-it-all grin. "And it’s your turn, busybody.”

  Beth smiled and shook her head, but as she stood, the humor in her face left, and her eyes focused on something in the distance. “Uh, Tilly, I think bowling has just taken a slight turn. Feel free to refer to it as a first step now.”

&n
bsp; Tilly frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Jerking her head toward the entrance, Beth cracked her knuckles and picked up her ball from the ball rack. “Because your husband just walked in.”

  Eleven

  Adam glanced around the bowling alley, the loud crashes of pins and cheering from bowlers blaring in his ears. It’d been ages since he’d been here, and memories of bowling with his family and nights as a teen with his friends assaulted him.

  But he hadn’t come for nostalgic reasons. His gaze swept the lanes until it landed on who he’d come for.

  His wife.

  He couldn’t help smile looking at her, clad in jeans that fit her long legs like a glove, a hot pink bowling shirt, and topped off with rainbow-colored shoes. Her dark hair bobbed around her ears as she sat in conversation with another woman who was vaguely familiar.

  The idea of Tilly in a bowling league still intrigued him. She’d never been a bowler when they’d been together. In fact, if memory served him correctly, they’d only bowled together once, and he didn’t think her score had reached above fifty. His offer of putting in the gutter guards had gotten him a surprisingly painful punch in the arm.

  The woman she was talking to stood and caught his eye as he walked closer. Her eyes glanced over him, a look of intrigue filling her face.

  He must have met her approval as she smiled, grabbed her ball, and said a few words to Tilly before turning toward the lane.

  Tilly pivoted and met his gaze as he approached.

  She stood and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back toward the door, her voice low and panicked. “What are you doing here? You need to leave.”

  He put his hand over hers. They’d never figure this out if she ignored him, and she’d done that and more. The woman had gotten downright sneaky in her avoidance tactics, including peeking in windows to see if he was asleep. Unbeknownst to her, he was trying to give her space, so had feigned sleeping on the couch with the TV on when he heard her car in the driveway, letting her tiptoe past him and up the stairs to her room more than once.

  But it’d been over a week.

  And his desire to see his wife in her new element overrode his desire to give her time to sort out her feelings. “I just wanted to watch—”

  “I don’t care. Out. Now.” She looked toward her friends and then back at him, her eyes pleading with—fear? She looked like a skittish horse who'd just seen a snake.

  But what was she afraid of?

  There were a lot of things he hoped his wife would come to feel for him again, but fear had never been and would never be one of them.

  He tugged her into a hug despite her protests and lowered his lips to her ear, praying his words would calm her instead of scare her off. "I'm just here to watch my wife bowl, I promise. I won't even talk to you, and scouts honor, no cat calls at your cute butt when it's your turn."

  She pushed away, her mouth still in a scowl, but her cheek twitching.

  Score one for Team Adam.

  "Fine. Stay. But no talking to anyone and no inappropriate comments, okay?"

  He nodded, trying to cool his expression and not let a goofy grin escape. "Want me to get you some nachos?"

  She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

  "Ah, yes. That's right. No talking. I'll just go get me something to eat."

  She whirled around and strode back to her bowling buddies—or did they call them ladies in a women’s league?

  He had no clue. He’d probably be lucky to get a 50 if he bowled today. In all the years he’d been away from Sandwich, he’d only bowled a handful of times with buddies from school and the hospital.

  After ordering some nachos and a bottled water from concessions, he settled at a table behind Tilly’s lane, just in time to see her turn start.

  Watching her backside as she stood tall, ball in front of her, he questioned his sanity as attraction for his wife infused his veins. She affected him like she had eighteen years ago, except he’d walked out on his right to assuage the desires she ignited.

  As her hips swayed and the ball released, he started to push away. This was way too tempting.

  But the woman he’d seen earlier plopped down in the seat next to him, averting his attention. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

  He held out his hand and shook hers. “I’m Adam. But I've been told I'm not allowed to talk to anyone so—"

  She laughed, her ponytail bouncing behind her like a teenager rather than the thirty-something she looked. “Tilly will get over it, I promise. I’m Beth, the best friend. Well, I thought I was her best friend until I found out she was hiding a husband from me.”

  Interesting. “You never knew she’d been married?”

  “Oh, I knew that. It’s a small town, after all. What I didn't realize is that she was still married.”

  When he first got back into town, he’d been surprised no one knew their relationship status, but Tilly was a private woman with her personal life. Always had been. That she’d kept it even from her best friend was definitely a shock though.

  He picked up a nacho and dipped it in cheese. “Tilly has always kept things pretty close to her.”

  Beth stole one of his chips and popped it in her mouth. “I would have argued with you a month ago. Now? Maybe you’re right. You do realize what an amazing person she is, right?”

  “I’ve always known that.”

  “Then why did you leave her?”

  He watched as the woman he loved—his wife—did a little victory dance as she snagged a spare, looking as beautiful and full of life as she had the day he married her. “Honestly? I was stupid. Utterly, completely stupid. I thought I'd go and make a place in this world, then come back and convince her to leave with me.” That was the short version anyway. In reality, he'd only been a block down the street when he’d regretted leaving.

  But once he got to his parents’ house, they’d filled his mind with all the reasons he needed to leave. College. A future. Provide for a family. Follow his dreams.

  Still, he’d kept hoping, praying she’d call. One word from her and he would have come back. But a week turned into two, and by the time he’d been accepted into his dad’s alma mater, his course was set and his mind made up.

  Beth let out a snort-laugh. “You thought you could get Tilly to leave Sandwich? You really didn’t know her very well.”

  “No, I did. I was a dreamer. Always had been.” Even when it came to Tilly.

  “Which is interesting, because Tilly is pretty much the opposite of a dreamer. She’s a stay-putter if I ever saw one.”

  “Yeah, but I turned into a leaver, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” And he doubted the woman in question ever would, either.

  Defeat washed over him as Tilly refused to even glance at him, focusing on the lane and the next woman up to bowl. Maybe this was all for naught. Maybe he should go back to Chicago and leave Tilly to her safe little life she’d built without him.

  Beth patted his arm and gave him a lopsided smile. “Don’t underestimate the power of prayer, or even Tilly herself. Most people would have divorced a long time ago, and I have a feeling there was a reason you two didn’t. Just— don’t give up on her yet. Dreams aren’t all bad, ya know. And being a stay-putter isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either. Sometimes God calls us out of our comfort zone and into some scary waters. Maybe it’s time for our Tilly to dust off her sails.”

  Her words sparked a flame of hope in his heart. Maybe Beth was right, and all Tilly needed was a little more time.

  Tilly finally turned but still didn’t meet his eyes. “You're up, Beth.”

  Beth winked at him and headed off to bowl.

  The rest of the game, he sat, paying only enough attention to cheer at the appropriate times. Instead, he focused his mind on prayer, pleading for God to touch Tilly’s heart.

  ***

  Tilly set her ball and gloves in her bag and zipped it up, trying not to think about the conversat
ion Adam was surely going to force. She'd been tense at first, especially when Beth and Adam were talking, but a tiny part of her felt good when his voice echoed behind her, cheering her on.

  Almost like it was good and right for him to be here.

  She'd had to shush her inner voice more than once.

  Beth gave her a quick hug and ran out of there like lightning was snipping at her backside, followed closely by Lena and Lauren.

  Traitors, all three of them.

  Adam stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking all handsome in slacks and a pinstriped dress shirt. He’d probably come straight from work, where he birthed and saved babies on a daily basis. Or something like that.

  Why couldn’t he be something gross like a garbage man or work in a sewer or something, or be one of those people who had the horrible job of removing asbestos from old buildings, something nasty that would make it easier to look away?

  Oddly enough, had he stayed in Sandwich, chances are that’s exactly what he would have become.

  And her heart would probably do twirls at the sight of him regardless.

  She shrugged on her jacket, snatched up her purse and bag, and walked toward the door.

  He fell into step beside her. “I meant to ask you earlier, but can I bum a ride home from you?”

  She glanced at him, her heart both galloping and bucking at the same time. She cooled her expression, trying to pretend her reaction was platonic. “Your fancy car broken?”

  “Nope. Just left it with the mechanic to do an oil change and tune-up. It wasn’t too cold tonight, and I knew you’d be here, so I walked over from the garage.”

  Liar. It was barely even thirty degrees out and the air smelled of an upcoming snow. “What if I refuse to drive you home?”

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll walk, and you might find me dead of hypothermia halfway down Center Street in the morning.”

  Adam always did have a flair for exaggeration. She tapped her chin with her finger. “Interesting prospective.”

  He stopped by her car hood and folded his arms, his lips curled in a sexy half-smile that could melt an iceberg. “You really aren’t going to give me a ride?”

 

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