by Leanne Banks
* * *
No way...
Gabe’s stomach landed at his feet. She wasn’t staying with him when she had a bunch of perfectly good relatives to rely on. She was simply being provocative. He was just about to say as much when the challenge in her eyes silenced any protests.
Instead, he called her bluff. “Okay...but you still have to call your parents and tell them what happened.”
Her brows came up. “That’s interesting coming from a man who won’t pick up the telephone to call his own family.”
“We’re talking about you,” he quipped, “not me.”
She shrugged. “So where’s my bedroom?”
“I’ll sleep in the guest room. You can have my room. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“Familiar surroundings, you mean?”
His body tensed. “I haven’t finished painting in the guest room,” he said, and grabbed his cell. “I can order pizza if you’re hungry?”
She nodded. “Sure. No anchovies, please. And extra mushrooms.”
He half smiled. “Why don’t you rest in the living room, and I’ll place the order.”
She did as he suggested, and once the pizza had been ordered, Gabe grabbed a couple of ginger beers from the refrigerator and headed for the living room. He found her on the sofa, legs curled up, arms crossed, staring at the blank television.
“Everything all right?” he asked, and passed her a bottle.
“Just thinking about my wrecked house.”
“It’s a house, Lauren,” he said quietly, and sat on the other end of the sofa. “Houses can be fixed.”
“Not like people, right?” she shot back, and sighed. “Once broken, always broken.”
The tremor in her voice made his insides contract. “Is that how you feel?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Lately more often than not. I think I just need to...make some changes.”
“Changes?”
She raised her shoulders. “I was thinking of selling the store.”
He didn’t hide his surprise. “That’s a bold move. Are you sure it’s the right one?”
“Not really,” she replied. “I’m not sure of anything. If I do decide to sell, I know my mother will be disappointed. But I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that it makes me happy. I’ve been pretending since...since...”
“Since Tim died?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. Some days I find it so stifling. And then other days I can’t believe I’m having such ungrateful thoughts. I mean, what’s not to like about being around people who are looking to create the perfect, most special day and then sharing in that joy? But all I feel is tired and weary of plastering on a wide smile every time a bride comes into the store looking for the gown of her dreams.”
Her pain reached deep into his soul. “You’ve had a bad day...don’t make a hasty decision when you might not be thinking clearly.”
“Spoken from experience?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” he replied.
She shrugged. “I won’t.”
The doorbell rang, and Gabe got to his feet. “Our dinner. Back in a minute.”
They ate in the kitchen, and by eight-thirty were lingering over coffee.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he noticed her frowning.
“Tired,” she replied. “And sore. I think I strained my back when I darted underneath the table. Which is a small price to pay considering what could have happened.”
Gabe pushed his mug aside. “I don’t want to remember what I thought when I saw that tree crash.”
“I’m glad you were there to rescue me.”
Was she? Was he? It seemed as though there was no escaping the pull that drew them together. It had a will of its own, dragging him back toward her at every opportunity.
“Nothing’s changed,” he said, and hated how cold his voice sounded.
“Everything’s changed. I can’t pretend and just switch off my emotions.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
Her gaze was unwavering. “What are you so afraid of?”
Gabe sucked in a breath. “Hurting you.”
“People get hurt all the time. You can’t always control it.”
“I can try,” he said, and stood. “I won’t mislead you, Lauren. I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I’ve told you how I feel about you and—”
“Actually,” she said, cutting him off. “You haven’t said how you feel about me at all...only how you feel about relationships and commitment.”
Discomfiture snaked up his spine. “It’s the same thing.”
Her brows rose tellingly. “That’s a man’s logic,” she said, and got to her feet. “And I’m a woman, Gabe. I think and feel deeply. And I know what I want. For the first time in a long time, I actually know what will make me happy. And who.”
Guilt pressed onto his shoulders. “Don’t pin your hopes on me, Lauren. I can’t make you happy...because I can’t promise you a future.”
She stared at him, eyes glistening. “Is it because you think you might not be able to give me a baby?”
The burn in his stomach intensified. “You can’t deny that’s important to you.”
“It was,” she admitted. “It is. But there are other options, like IVF and adoption. I mean, no two people know if they’ll be able to produce a child until they try. And you said it was a possibility, not an absolute.”
Her relentless logic was butchering him.
“It’s just one more complication, Lauren. One that you don’t need.”
“But I’m right?” she asked. “So now you’re hiding behind this idea of potential infertility to keep me or any other woman at arm’s length?”
“I’m not hiding. I’m laying out the facts.”
“The facts?” she echoed. “You’re like a vault when it comes to the facts. Right now, in this moment, you’re well and strong and here...why isn’t that enough?”
“Because it’s not. Because it might not last,” he replied, frustrated and angry.
“But you don’t know what will happen...no one does.”
“I know what the medical data says. I know what the odds are of it coming back. If I can stay healthy for five years and not relapse, then I’ll consider my options. But until then—”
“Five years?” She cut him off and shook her head. “You can’t organize feelings to order like that.”
“I can. I will.”
“So you plan to avoid getting close to anyone for the next few years just in case you aren’t around to seal the deal? That’s absurd. What made you so cynical?”
“Facing the prospect of death.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said hauntingly. “There’s more to it. You had a career where you saw death all the time, a career that obviously called out to you because you’re mentally strong and compassionate and able to deal with grief and despair and hopelessness. I don’t believe that all that strength disappeared because you were faced with the challenge of an illness you’ve now recovered from.”
His chest tightened. “I can’t talk about—”
“What happened to you?” she pleaded. “Tell me...what happened that made you so determined to be alone?”
Gabe’s heart thundered, and he fought the words that hovered on the end of his tongue. He didn’t want to tell her; he didn’t want to admit to anything. But the pained, imploring look on her face was suddenly harder to deny than his deep-seated determination to say nothing.
“My dad died when I was seventeen,” he said flatly. “And I watched my mom become hollow inside. At first, I watched her become headstrong in her denial and refuse to admit the inevitable. I watched her use every ounce of strength she had to give him hope and keep him alive. I wa
tched her argue with doctors and oncologists about his treatment and try every holistic and natural remedy she could to give him more time. And then when the treatment stopped working and he relapsed, I watched her care for him and feed him and bathe him, and then I watched her cry every day when she thought no one was looking. And when he died, part of her died, too. She was heartbroken. She was sad, and there was nothing anyone could do for her...there was nothing I could do for her.”
He drew several gulps of air into his lungs. It was the first time he’d said the words. The first time he’d admitted how helpless he’d felt watching his mother fall apart.
“And I’m never going to put anyone through that...not ever.”
She shuddered. “So instead you’ll shut the world out?”
“Not the world,” he said quickly. “Just...”
“Just me?” she asked, eyes glazed. “Or any woman who wants to be with you for more than a one-night stand?”
“Exactly,” he said woodenly.
She shook her head. “It wasn’t your job to fix your mother. No one can fix that kind of pain...only time can truly heal,” she said quietly. “Believe me, I know. If your mother didn’t recover, it’s not your responsibility or job to question why. And it must be that your dad was the true love of her life.”
“Like Tim was yours?”
Did he sound as jealous by that idea as he felt? He didn’t want to feel it. Didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to be so conflicted and confused that all he wanted to do was haul her into his arms and kiss her over and over and forget every other wretched thought or feeling.
Her mouth softened. “I did love Tim, very much. But I didn’t honor that love when I married James. And when my marriage ended, I was determined to find someone who wouldn’t make me feel anything that might dishonor those feelings again. And I tried,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “And failed.”
“And that’s exactly why I won’t do this, Lauren. That look you have when you talk about Tim... My mom had that same look. You’ve been through it, too. You know how it feels to lose someone you care about. Why the hell would you potentially put yourself through that again? It doesn’t make sense. You need to walk away from this. And me.”
“So you’re doing this for me. Is that what you’re saying?”
He shrugged. “I’m doing this for us both.”
She inhaled resignedly. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”
Bed? He groaned inwardly. “No.”
Her mouth twitched. “You’re not going to make love to me tonight?”
Gabe’s entire body tightened. She was pure provocation, and he wanted her so much, his blood felt as though it were on fire.
“No.” It was close to the hardest thing he’d ever said.
Her eyes shadowed. “Would you just...hold me?”
Pain and longing sat in his gut like a lead weight. But she didn’t know what she was asking. If he stayed with her tonight, there would be no turning back. He wanted her...he wanted her so much he ached inside thinking about denying that feeling. But Gabe wouldn’t allow that wanting to turn into needing. Needing meant giving everything. Everything meant loving. And that was impossible.
“I can’t.” His voice sounded hollow and empty. “I can’t give you what you want.”
She looked at him, and he saw the disappointment and regret in her eyes. She was hurt.
“No, I guess you can’t,” she said, and left the room.
Chapter Twelve
“And that’s it?”
Lauren dropped her gaze to the floor. If she kept looking at Cassie and Mary-Jayne, they’d see the tears in her eyes. And she wouldn’t cry anymore. She’d cried enough over lost love throughout the years. She’d cried for Tim. She’d cried when he’d finally told her he was dying and wouldn’t be able to give her the future he’d promised. She’d cried over his grave and in the years since. She’d even cried for James when he’d walked out the door. She’d cried for lost dreams and for the children she’d never borne.
And not once, during all those tears and anguish, did she ever think she’d love again. Nor did she want to. She’d planned on friendship and companionship and then marriage and children to help ease her aching heart. And instead had tumbled headlong into something that was all desire and heat and a longing so intense it physically pained her. She loved Gabe. And she knew, deep down to her soul, that it was the one love she would never recover from.
But she had to try.
And she would.
“That’s it,” she replied, and pretended to enjoy the glass of wine she’d been cradling for the best part of an hour. She managed a smile. “Looks like I’m back to trawling ReliableBores.com.”
Mary-Jayne made a huffing sound. “Did he give you a reason?”
Sure he did. But Lauren would never betray Gabe’s confidence and tell them about his illness. Now she had to concentrate on forgetting all about her fledging feelings and put Gabe Vitali out of her mind. And show a little more enthusiasm for her friends’ company. But she wasn’t in the mood for a Friday-evening movie and junk-food marathon. She simply wanted to lick her wounds in private.
“Don’t forget it’s my sister’s birthday party tomorrow night,” Mary-Jayne reminded them. “I’ll pick you both up.”
Lauren nodded and noticed that Cassie, who still hadn’t heard from Doug, looked about as unenthused as she felt. An evening with Scott and Evie Jones was one thing...knowing Gabe would be there, too, was another thing altogether. However, she was determined to put on a brave face and go. Avoiding Gabe was pointless. They shared several of the same friends and were bound to run into one another occasionally. She might be able to steer clear of him over the hedge that separated their homes, but becoming a hermit to her friends wasn’t an option.
“How’s the house look?” Cassie asked.
“The repairs will take the best part of the weekend, but I should be back in by Tuesday.”
“Well, you can stay here as long as you like,” her friend offered.
And she was glad she had such loyal friends. She’d gone to bed the night before with a broken heart and awoke with more resolve than she knew she possessed. Gabe was gone by the time she pulled herself out of bed, and had left a cursory note telling her a builder would be at her house at seven-thirty to check for structural damage. By eight she was back inside her own house, cleaning up with the help of the fencing contractor and his crew, who’d arrived with sheepish faces and good intentions. And while the repairs to the roof were being done, she’d stay with Cassie and try to stop thinking about Gabe.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Cassie assured her, then smiled. “You know, there’s this man at work I think you might like.”
Lauren groaned. “A blind date? Ah, no thanks.”
“What’s the harm? He’s nice. He’s in the pathology department. Want me to set you up?”
“No chance.”
* * *
On Saturday morning, Lauren headed to the store early. She gave her mother an abridged version of what had happened with the house, leaving out how she’d stayed at Gabe’s that night and only telling her she was bunking in with Cassie until the repairs were done. She didn’t mention her thoughts about selling the store. She’d think about that later. When her heart wasn’t breaking. When she was whole and was certain she’d finished crying wasted tears.
Late that afternoon, Lauren dressed in a pale lemon sundress in filmy rayon that tied at her nape. The garment fitted neatly over the bodice and flared from the waist. She matched it with a pair of silver heels and kept her hair loose around her shoulders. Mary-Jayne picked her up at six, and since Cassie had decided to give the party a miss, they drove straight to Dunn Inn. The big A-framed home was set back from the road, and
the gardens always reminded Lauren of something out of an old fairy story. There was a wishing well in the center of the yard, surrounded by cobbled paths and tall ferns, and it had been a bed and breakfast for over a decade.
Gabe’s car wasn’t out front, and she heaved a relieved sigh. She grabbed Evie’s birthday gift from the backseat and followed Mary-Jayne inside. Evie was in the kitchen, as was Grace. Lauren had always envied the three sisters’ relationship. They were as different as night and day and yet shared a formidable bond. Of course, she adored her brother, but sometimes wished she’d had a sister, too.
“Scott’s running an errand,” Evie explained, and Lauren wondered if she imagined how the other woman glanced in her direction just a little longer than expected. “He’ll be back soon.”
Mary-Jayne laughed. “Oh, with some big birthday surprise for you?”
Evie raised her steeply arched brows. “Well, it’s certainly a surprise. Not for me, though. And since I’m not sure I really want to be celebrating the fact I’m only two years off turning forty, I’m more than happy about that.”
“The gifts are all on the buffet in the front living room,” Grace said as she cradled Evie’s six-month-old daughter in her arms.
Her sister-in-law was glowing, and Lauren wondered if she was pregnant. It would certainly explain why her brother had sounded so chipper on the phone that morning when he’d called after hearing about her tree mishap from her mother. She was achingly happy for Cameron and knew he deserved every ounce of happiness that was in his life. But part of her envied him, too. He’d put his heart on the line when he’d pursued Grace, and it had paid off.
Not like me....
Her heart was well and truly smashed. Gabe was out of reach. As unattainable as some remote planet. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested. He’d rejected her, wholly and completely. And she had to stop wasting her energy hoping he’d come around. There would be no fairy-tale ending.
Lauren offered to take the gifts into the living room and left the sisters alone to catch up. The big room was formal and furnished with a long leather chaise and twin heavy brocade sofas. A collection of Evie’s artwork covered the walls, and a thick rug lay in front of the fireplace and hearth.