by Noelle Adams
She’d done everything she could think of to bond with Ellie. She’d taken her out to eat for dinner the day before and breakfast this morning. She’d taken her to the library and to the bakery for donuts. She’d tried to play three different games. She’d asked about the books the girl was reading and the story she was writing and the friends she’d had in school. She’d tried to make a game of cleaning the kitchen so Ellie might want to join her.
And nothing. The girl hadn’t even smiled.
Lydia had gotten so desperate that she’d called up her mom for advice.
“She just doesn’t like me,” Lydia said, for about the fifth time. She’d rehearsed the last two days, and the frustrated helplessness was catching up to her. Her voice broke on the last word. “She’s mostly a well-behaved girl. She’s never nasty, and she obeys her father really well. But she doesn’t like me—no matter what I do.”
“You’ve got to give her some time,” her mother said. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, but it’s been months since I got together with Gabe. I wouldn’t mind if there was slow progress, but there’s no progress at all. I don’t know what to do. I’m just no good with kids.”
“You’ve always said that, but I’ve never known why. You do fine with kids.”
“No, I don’t. I never know what to say to them.”
“You just haven’t spent a lot of time around them, but they’ve always liked you fine.”
“But Ellie doesn’t. Don’t you have any suggestions on how I can talk to her or what I can do?”
“I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know what to tell you—except kids aren’t alien creatures. They’re people. Treat her like a person. If it were you, in her situation, how would you want to be treated?”
Lydia sighed and slumped down on the couch, stretching her legs out and closing her eyes. “I just don’t know. I’ve never been in her situation, and I’m so exhausted now I can’t even think.”
“It just feels overwhelming now because it’s new to you and you’re not used to it. It will get easier. I promise. She’s your family now. Try to start thinking about her that way, and she’ll eventually warm up.”
Lydia didn’t reply to that. Ellie didn’t feel like family, any more than Gabe did. That was part of why it was so hard, and it was something she couldn’t tell her mother.
“What does Gabe say about it?” her mom asked.
“Nothing.”
“You mean you haven’t told him you’re having trouble with her?”
“I’m not having trouble with her. I mean, it’s not like she’s really being bad.”
“But he still needs to know. How does she act when he’s around?”
“Better. She’ll answer me and say thank you when he’s around. It’s not like she’s ever friendly.”
“Well, tell him. He’ll want to know you’re so upset about it. The two of you can figure out something to do.”
“I don’t want to go and whine to him about his daughter.”
“It’s not whining. It’s part of life. If you’re building a family together, you all need to work together to deal with anything that comes up.”
Lydia swallowed and bit back an immediate objection.
Her mother’s tone softened as she added, “You’ve got to work together, honey, or a marriage can never work.”
“Yeah. I know.” Lydia opened her eyes and realized her mother was right.
It didn’t matter why or how she’d married Gabe. It was still a marriage. And Ellie and her happiness were important. They needed to somehow make this work.
When he got home, she’d talk to him. It would be fine. They were two reasonable people, and they could figure out a way to make this marriage successful.
***
Gabe didn’t get back until almost midnight.
Lydia put Ellie to bed at nine, and she stayed awake in her bedroom, waiting. At ten, when he still hadn’t arrived, she’d gotten ready for bed, but she kept the light on and read, listening for the sounds of Gabe returning.
Maybe she should just wait until the next morning, but she’d steeled herself to have the conversation tonight, so she wanted to just get it done.
Finally she heard the garage door open and his car pull in. She waited and heard his footsteps on the stairs. They kept going up to the third floor, so he must be checking on Ellie.
Hopefully the girl was asleep.
He didn’t stay up there long, so she must have been sleeping. Lydia waited when she heard the floor of the hallway creak outside her bedroom.
Maybe he’d check in with her, to let her know he was back and see how things had gone.
The light was on in her room, after all, so it would be a polite thing to do.
He didn’t, though. After a moment, she heard the footsteps continue on to his room.
She let out a breath and stood up.
She wore a pair of red cotton pajama pants and a matching tank top. Since it was a little chilly and she felt too exposed, she pulled on a hoodie to cover her arms and shoulders before she left the room.
Her hair was rather tousled, but she didn’t really care.
She wasn’t trying to look good. She wanted to have a reasonable conversation with Gabe.
His door was half-opened so she tapped on it and pushed it open farther.
He was in the process of pulling his shirt off, and she froze at the sight of his broad, well-developed back and his very fine ass in the trousers he still wore.
He turned around quickly at her knock, holding his shirt in his hands.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “The door was…”
His chest was very nice too. She trailed off as her eyes lingered on the well-developed muscles and scattering of dark hair.
“It’s fine. I thought you were in bed.” He was staring at her too, and he hadn’t moved, not even to put his shirt down.
“Yeah. I mean, no, I was just reading.”
Lydia started breathing a little quickly at the sight of him half-dressed this way. In his bedroom. In their house.
“How did things go?” he asked, finally realizing he was still holding his shirt and tossing it towards the closet.
She took a few steps into the room. “Fine. It was…it was okay.”
His brows drew together. “Is something wrong?”
She was flushed and breathless from seeing him like this, but she had enough brain capacity to realize this wasn’t what he was asking. “Not really. Not wrong, really. It’s just that—”
“Is Ellie okay?”
“She’s fine,” Lydia replied, just slightly sharp. She was trying to explain, if he’d just let her get the words out. “It’s not that. It’s just that it’s been kind of hard to…to do everything myself.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to say, but it was certainly the truth.
He frowned and stepped closer to her. “I thought you said it was fine to watch her while I was gone.”
“I did. I mean, it was. Although we might want to talk about it some more, since you seemed to expect me to without question, and that’s not always going to work for me. But—”
“What do you mean I expected you to without question? I asked you. What else could I have done?” His body had tensed up, and his voice was edged with annoyance.
Lydia was suddenly annoyed too. She hadn’t been very lucid with her explanation, but he didn’t need to immediately take offense this way. She had a valid point. “You could have run the possibility by me before it was a done deal. You were practically out the door when you asked me. What could I have said but yes?”
“You could have said no. What else did you need to do?” He’d moved even closer to her, big and tense and quietly angry.
She sucked in a breath at the implication. “Just because I’m not working right now doesn’t mean my time is entirely yours to use. I didn’t marry you to become your babysitter or housekeeper, you know.”
She wasn’t the kind of p
erson who got angry easily. Annoyed, yes. Angry, no. So she had no idea why she was so angry right now. But she was practically shaking with it, wanting to claw the condescending, impatient look off his face.
“Damn it,” he bit out. “When did I ever say you should be my housekeeper or babysitter?”
“You don’t have to say it. But for the last week I’ve done the housework and made the meals and watched your daughter. We’d agreed we would split things up equally, and that’s not what is happening.”
He was almost choking on some sort of outrage. “You offered to do all of that. If you didn’t want to, then why the hell did you offer?”
“I was trying to be nice. And you haven’t showed the slightest bit of appreciation or reciprocation.”
“I said thank you. What else did you expect?”
Their voices weren’t loud, but they were both angry, and he was very close to her now.
She could reach out and touch him. Ridiculously, she was still overwhelmed with that physical attraction—even more so now that he was so visceral, so passionate, so real.
Not distant at all—angry and in her face this way.
“I expected this to be a partnership,” she snapped. “And that’s not what it is. I feel like I’m the only one making any effort here, and I’m not going to keep making efforts if you’re not willing to do your share.”
“And it never occurred to you to open your mouth and let me know you weren’t happy about things?” He was breathing heavily, and his cheeks were slightly flushed.
She wanted so much for him to kiss her that she had to clench her fingers at her sides.
“I’m opening my mouth now,” she said. Her voice cracked slightly, and she realized she needed to leave—right now—before she did something incredibly stupid.
And humiliating.
So she just turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
“Lydia.” His hoarse voice followed her out the hall. “Don’t—”
She didn’t hear the rest because she’d closed her bedroom door behind her.
She rarely fought. With anyone. She occasionally rubbed people the wrong way, but she always apologized and made an effort to make things better. With some work, she’d always gotten along well with everyone in her life, and any brief disagreements she’d been able to smooth over with honesty and a warm smile.
Her fight with Gabe kept her awake for a long time.
This marriage was supposed to help both of them and not demand too much.
But it was demanding a lot more from her than she’d ever expected.
Six
Lydia didn’t sleep very well that night, and she was wide awake at 4:50 the following morning, stewing about her marriage and how weird and awkward things seemed to be with Gabe. So finally she just got up and headed outside for a run.
She would have preferred to swim, but the indoor pool she used wouldn’t open for three more hours, so running would have to do.
She alternated running, jogging, and walking for an hour and a half, and she was feeling absolutely exhausted but better when she came back to the house.
Things were fine. This weirdness wouldn’t last forever. Soon they’d be in India and she could focus on her work. She needed to try not to be impatient or frustrated with the way things were now. No sense in arguing with Gabe—about anything really. They needed to think practically and not with their emotions. Things would be a lot simpler than way.
In the scheme of things, her relationship with Gabe didn’t matter all that much. It was merely a means to an end. So she could make the effort to get along with him, even if the dynamics weren’t exactly what she thought was best.
So she felt reenergized as she limped into the kitchen for water, breathing heavily and flushed from the exercise. It was kind of chilly outside, so she wasn’t soaked in sweat, but she felt hot in the house so she took off the long-sleeved shirt she wore over a fitted t-shirt.
She jerked to a stop when she saw Gabe was in the kitchen, standing in front of the coffee pot.
He wore a pair of pajama pants and nothing else.
And nothing else.
His back was to her, and she stared at the broad, strong lines of his back tapering down to his waist and hips.
He was only semi-regular about working out, so every inch of his body wasn’t perfectly toned. But he was built big and masculine, and even the slight imperfections—the slight love handles just above his waistband—made him seem realer, more human, more touchable.
Damn, did she want to touch him.
She was hit with the desire after about ten seconds of staring at him, in the space of time it took for him to register her presence and turn around.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to sound natural. Instead, she sounded stiff, and her voice cracked slightly. She was still breathing heavily from her run, but now her blood was pulsing with something else.
His blue eyes ran up and down the length of her. “Good morning.”
She walked farther into the kitchen, since there was something here she was supposed to be getting—although she couldn’t remember what it was at the moment. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Gabe—his sleep-tousled hair, his bristly jaw, his bare chest. The pulsing in her body only intensified as she got closer to him.
On her run, she’d just reminded herself that this marriage—this man—wasn’t what was most important in her life.
But suddenly he felt very important. Like he was consuming her body and mind.
“You’re up early,” he said, taking the mug from beneath the one-cup brewer and taking a sip of black coffee. He looked kind of tired, but maybe it was just because he hadn’t fully woken up yet.
“Yeah.” She made herself turn away from him because she was so overwhelmed with visceral hunger. It was ridiculous. She was a mature, reasonable woman who was perfectly capable of controlling any stray lust she happened to feel.
She stared at the refrigerator blankly until she remembered she’d come in here to get water. So she opened the door and stared inside until her mind registered where the bottles of water were.
Get it together. Get it together. It’s just a guy without a shirt.
“Are you still pouting?” Gabe asked from behind her, his voice slightly skeptical.
Her mind snapped back into focus, and she whirled around, forgetting all of her self-lectures about being reasonable. “Pouting? I’m not pouting. I was never pouting.”
He reacted to her sharp tone immediately, his shoulders stiffening visibly. “Fine, whatever you want to call it. Are you still pissed?”
“I wasn’t pissed until you used that offensive, condescending word.”
He sucked in an indignant breath. “It was just a question.”
“It wasn’t just a question. You chose to use the word ‘pout,’ as if I am a child and my concerns are trivial and petty.” She was so irrationally annoyed with him that she was practically shaking with it.
For a moment, she saw herself as if from a distance, and she could see how absurd it was to react this way. But she couldn’t seem to help it.
Gabe was just making her mad.
She evidently made him mad too—even though he was normally so laidback. He stepped closer to her, seeming to absorb in his body all the heat and tension in the room. “You’re imagining things,” he gritted out. “If you’re going to over-analyze every word I say, we’re never going to be able to have a rational conversation.”
“So now you’re saying I’m irrational?”
Shit. She was doing nothing but making it worse. She needed to just shut up.
He bit off a frustrated groan. “I’m not saying you’re irrational. I’m not saying you’re a child. I won’t say anything at all if you don’t want me to.”
She consciously tempered her tone, although she was still bristling with annoyance. “Don’t act like this is all my fault. I’m sorry if I’m being overly sensitive. I’m not usually this way, but this is new to me an
d maybe I’m not feeling entirely secure. But the problem here is not just on me. You’ve got to try to think about me too.”
“I do think about you.” His voice was still gruff, but it was lower now. He was still very close to her. So close she could reach out and touch him.
“Do you?” She took a ragged breath and tightened her hands into fists at her sides so she wouldn’t lift them to his chest.
She’d never known it was possible to want to both stroke and shake someone at the exact same time.
“Of course.” He lifted one hand and planted it on the refrigerator behind her in a strangely possessive gesture that trapped her with his body. “What exactly do you want from me?”
She was panting audibly, visibly, but she couldn’t possibly control it. Her body hummed with feeling even as her heart and mind throbbed with an emotional turmoil she just wasn’t used to. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.”
That wasn’t true. It wasn’t even close to true.
He leaned in even closer, so intense that she could hardly believe this was the same man she’d married. “I said I was sorry about last night.”
“Did you?” She honestly couldn’t remember if he’d said the words, but he sure hadn’t acted sorry last night. Without thinking, she put one hand on his chest, unable to stop herself from touching the warm substance of his body. “It didn’t really seem like you understood what I was trying to say.”
He let out a rough breath. “I didn’t. Not last night. But I thought about it all night, and I am sorry. You’re right that I was just assuming you’d be there when I needed you—like you were some kind of convenience to me. I was going to apologize this morning, but things kind of went…awry.”
She let out a huff of amusement, relaxing as she met his eyes again. “Yeah. I was going to apologize too. I think it’s just…” She trailed off, suddenly conscious that she wasn’t just touching him. She was rubbing her hand just slightly, feeling the firm flesh, the coarse hair, the…
“Just what?” he asked thickly. His body radiated a kind of tension that seemed to match the tension in her own body.
“Just…” She had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. “Hard.”