“He’ll come around,” Delia said. “You’re too special to let go, love. He’ll see that.”
“He won’t,” Tabby sobbed. “He’s going to LA.”
“Something will turn up, you’ll see. Maybe when you get back from the UK, you’ll be able to work something out.” It was the first time Delia had admitted Tabby was going.
A little of the weight pressing on Tabby’s heart seemed to lift after that. Delia had agreed to call the number of the health nurse to ask for temporary assistance, and Tabby had thanked her, grateful her mother finally seemed to understand how much she needed to go to London before she returned home to settle down.
She’d hung up feeling better about her relationship with her mother, but it hadn’t solved the ache in her chest as she thought about Eli. Nor the ache that was beginning in her abdomen. She hadn’t wanted to get pregnant, but when she’d thought she might be, she’d been surprised how excited it had made her feel. And now those shining future possibilities had been snuffed out like a row of candles, leaving her in the dark.
He hadn’t really wanted her. She didn’t believe his insistence that he had been going to ask her to marry him whatever the outcome of the test. He’d only wanted to Do the Right Thing. Kind, gentlemanly Eli, who hadn’t been able to bear the thought of knocking a girl up and leaving her to fend for herself. But as soon as he’d discovered she wasn’t pregnant, he’d backed off. He’d never meant to get involved with her. He was fond of her, but he’d never wanted their relationship to turn serious.
It made her want to cry.
She wondered where he was. Had they come back yet? She might not have heard them if she was in a deep sleep.
Wiping her face, she went to the doorway and hesitated. She didn’t want to see him again, not at the moment. But she did want to know he was all right. Mick had gone off to look for him, and he’d been gone several hours when Madeleine had bullied her into bed.
She padded down the hallway to the living room and saw Madeleine over by the window. “They’re not back yet?”
Madeleine jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around. “Geez, you scared me. It’s so quiet out here. I miss the sounds of the city.” She turned back to the view of the sea, lit like a sheet of silver in the moonlight. “No sign of them yet.”
Tabby walked over to join her. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”
“They’re probably well on the way to finishing a bottle of whisky by now.” She smiled. “They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves.” She turned from the window. “How are you feeling?”
“A bit better.”
They sat at opposite ends of the sofa. Madeleine studied her. “What’s going to happen now?”
“I go back to the States, visit my parents, and then go to London.”
A frown marred Madeleine’s brow. “Is that it for you and Eli? Do you think you’ll meet up again when you return to the States?”
“I doubt it. He’ll be in LA, I’ll be in New York. It’s possible, but come on, Madeleine, do you really think he’s still going to be single in a year’s time?”
Madeleine shrugged. “Maybe. He’s fallen pretty hard for you. I don’t think he’s going to get over you quickly.”
Tabby’s throat tightened, and she turned her head to look out at the sea. Part of her wanted to hate him, but it wasn’t his fault, not really. Even if he had proposed when the test was negative, what difference would it have made? They’d conjured up a problem with no easy solution, a Rubik’s Cube of a relationship. They hadn’t been tricked into it, or dragged kicking and screaming. They’d taken it on willingly, with open eyes. They had only themselves to blame. And they were both dealing with the hurt the way they knew how.
“He loves you, you know.” Madeleine’s voice was gentle.
Tabby thought of his passionate declaration on the beach. “I know.” While she was talking to her mother, she’d felt so certain his assertion that he was going to propose was just a cop-out to make her feel better, but now she wasn’t so sure. The ring—even the baby—weren’t really the issues here. The problem was geographical. He’d been genuinely torn in two, and she’d been unfair to him when she’d accused him of not loving her enough to break his promise to Charlie, when she was so determined she wasn’t going to give up her own dreams. The memory of her words made her cringe now, and fresh tears pricked her eyes.
“Aw, come here.” Madeleine moved closer and put her arm around Tabby, and Tabby curled up next to her. In silence, they watched the moon rise higher in the sky, lost in their thoughts.
They were both dozing when Madeleine’s cell phone started ringing in her pocket.
She brought it out and swiped the screen. “It’s Mick.” She put it up to her ear. “Hello?” Tabby bit her lip as Madeleine listened, eyes downcast. Then Madeleine frowned. “Is he all right? Oh for God’s sake. Whereabouts? Okay. We’ll come now. Mick Forstner, you’re a dead man, you know that? Yeah, love you, too.”
She hung up.
Tabby’s heart pounded. “What happened?”
“They got into a fight.” Madeleine stood and collected her handbag, slid on her shoes, and gestured for Tabby to stand. “They’re in the hospital. Come on, you need to get dressed.”
“Are they…are they all right?”
“They’re keeping Eli for the night because he was knocked out for a while. I think it’s just cuts and bruises, but it sounds like they took a bit of a beating.” She stopped at Tabby’s little hiccup and turned to hug her. “Oh crap, sorry, honey. He’s all right. They’ve been in a lot worse, believe me.”
Tabby put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Madeleine,” she managed to squeak. “I’ve screwed up your lovely weekend.”
“You didn’t screw it up. Laurel and Hardy over there screwed it up.”
“No, it was my fault. I should have waited to take the test. I shouldn’t have ruined the weekend. We were having so much fun.”
Madeleine took her by the shoulders. “That’s enough self-pity, missy. It’ll all work itself out, I’m sure. Now come on. Get dressed, and we’ll go and pick the idiots up.”
…
When Eli opened his eyes, his first thought was that he was dead. Everything around him was white and hazy, and it struck him that maybe he’d been idiotic enough to lose the fight. Maybe the redhead had slit his throat with the broken bottle, and now he was outside the pearly gates, waiting for St. Peter to let him in.
Tabbs. He felt a wave of panic at the thought that he’d never see her again. How could he have been stupid enough to let her go?
Then his head cleared, and as he looked to his left, he saw Mick sitting in the chair beside the bed, head leaning back, snoring loudly.
“Now I know I’m not in heaven.”
“Hncmph?” Mick woke himself up with an extra-loud snore and opened his eyes. Seeing Eli awake, he sat up. “Hey. Feeling any better?”
“Better than you look.”
“You haven’t seen a mirror yet. Don’t go passing any judgment on me.”
Mick had a swollen eye, a cut along his cheek, blood-rimmed nostrils, and hands covered in cuts and bruises. He also moved like he was a hundred and eighty years old.
Eli assessed his own injuries. His left arm was in a sling, and his forearm throbbed. He seemed to remember the cut glass slicing through it before he’d been able to knock it away. He touched his face and ran his fingers over the cut in his lip, the sore points on his cheekbones, and his tender right eye, then checked with his tongue that all his teeth were intact. He ached all over—particularly his ribs and his right leg, and he guessed someone had managed to give him a good kicking before the cops turned up. His head throbbed, and his mouth tasted sour. “Geez, I must look awful.”
Mick met his gaze. “The girls are coming in.” He looked down at his hands. “Madeleine’s going to kill me.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Mick snorted. “You think that’ll matter?”
>
Eli felt a sweep of relief that the police had detained the redhead before he could take the bottle to Mick. He’d never have forgiven himself if he’d been the reason Mick had been scarred. “I’m sorry.”
Mick met his eyes and shook his head ruefully. “You’ll be even sorrier when Madeleine gets here.”
“I mean it. I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.” He laid his head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling.
“Are you feeling okay?” Mick stood by his bed and frowned. “Have you got a headache? Want me to call the nurse? They’re worried about you having a concussion.”
“No, I’m fine. I could use a drink, though.”
“Eli…”
“Of water,” Eli corrected hastily. “Geez.”
“There’s a cooler down the hall—I’ll go get a cup.”
Eli watched Mick limp out and then lay his head back. Tabby was on her way in. What was he going to say to her? Was she still mad at him?
His heart ached—literally, ached—at the thought of seeing her again. He lifted the arm that wasn’t in a sling to cover his eyes as they began to sting. He wasn’t going to cry. He really wasn’t. And yet the tears pushed their way through his lashes, wetting his cheeks. He’d never felt like this about a girl, ever. But then, he’d never been in love before.
He remembered what he’d thought—that he couldn’t change how Tabby felt toward him; he could only change his own actions. He didn’t want to lose her, and the power to keep her lay within his own hands.
So what was he going to do about it?
Mick came back in carrying the cup of water and stopped when he saw Eli’s face. “What’s up? You all right?”
“Yeah.” He took the cup and drank it in one go. “I’ve had a eureka moment.”
Mick sat in the chair. “Well you’re going to have to enlighten me later. It’s time to put your armor on. I can hear Madeleine coming down the corridor.”
Chapter Twenty
Tabby’s heart pounded. She gave Madeleine a quick smile as the other woman turned from asking the nurse where her husband was, but the smile faded as they walked along the corridor toward the room. She had no idea what sort of state Eli was in—all she knew was he’d been in a fight, and he’d been knocked unconscious. Was that his answer to everything? To pound another guy into the ground until he felt better?
Madeleine strode down the corridor, stopped outside one of the rooms, and opened the door. She walked in, and Tabby followed her, pausing in the doorway.
Mick sat in a chair to the right of the room, his head propped on his hand, but he straightened as he saw Madeleine, looking up at her warily. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, one eye swelling, and his knuckles were scarlet and raw.
Eli sat on the bed in the middle of the room, propped up on a heap of white pillows. He wore a medical gown, and his left arm was in a sling. His face looked awful—his right eye was already bruising up, his bottom lip was split, and his left cheekbone had Steri-Strips all along it. His eyes met hers, shining in the dull light.
Eli glanced first at Mick, then at Madeleine. “You think this is bad? You should see the other guys.”
Mick coughed and bit his lip as Madeleine put her hands on her hips. She turned her glare on Eli. “You think this is funny?”
“No ma’am.”
“I should think not. How old are you?”
“I assume that’s rhetorical.”
“Twenty-six. Twenty-six, Eli Black. And you’re still trying to solve all the problems in your life with brute strength. Sometimes it takes a subtle touch to get what you want. Why do you assume you can only find the answer with your fists? You’re not stupid—far from it. And yet you act like a thug, thinking if you hit another man until he bleeds it’s going to get rid of all the pain you’re feeling. Well it won’t, take it from me. You’ll wake up in the morning, and all you’ll have is an aching body to go with your aching heart.”
“Hey, it wasn’t—”
“Don’t even start arguing with me, sunshine. I’m far too mad to let you get a word out.”
Eli closed his mouth. His lips curved, but he didn’t argue with her. He glanced at Tabby again and winked at her. Tabby stared at him, wondering why he was in such good humor when it had been an awful night.
“And as for you,” Madeleine said, turning the force of her fury on her husband. “What the hell do you think you were doing?”
“I couldn’t let him go into the fight alone,” Mick tried to protest.
“You were supposed to stop him doing anything stupid,” she snapped. “For God’s sake, Mick, you know what he’s like. You’re supposed to be the sensible one. What the hell were you doing drinking with him? You knew how that would end. The pair of you haven’t got a brain between you.”
“That wasn’t—”
“Mick!”
He looked sulkily at the floor. Tabby stifled a sudden urge to laugh. The two of them looked like a pair of naughty schoolboys caught in the girls’ locker room.
Madeleine folded her arms. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “What would have happened if that guy had managed to get to you with the broken bottle? Cut up your face. Eh? What then?”
Mick looked at her and tipped his head. “I’m all right, love.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Come here.”
To Tabby’s surprise, he put his arms around Madeleine, and she let him, burying her face in his jacket.
“You stupid ass,” she said, her voice muffled. “You could have been killed.”
He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “I had my white knight watching over me, don’t worry. Eli wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to me.”
Madeleine pushed back and wiped her eyes. She glanced over at Eli. “Mick’s a good friend to you. But sometimes I wonder if you know a good thing when you see it.”
Something told Tabby that Madeleine wasn’t only talking about Mick.
When Eli said nothing, Madeleine took Mick’s hand. “Come on, you. I haven’t finished with you yet.”
“I sincerely hope not.”
Madeleine glared at him. “Well, you can forget about anything like that for a few days until your face heals.” She walked past Tabby, leading him with her, and they disappeared down the corridor, Madeleine continuing to chew him out all the way.
Tabby’s heart began to speed up again. There was nothing left to say to Eli, and part of her wished she’d stayed at the beach house, but she’d had to come and see with her own eyes that he was okay. Now, however, she didn’t know what to do. Should she just turn and go?
As she surveyed him, however, seeing his black hair sticking up all over the place, and the way he winced as he shifted on the bed, her heart went out to him.
She came into the room, shut the door behind her, and walked up to the foot of the bed. Eli heaved a sigh and finally looked up to meet her gaze.
Tabby couldn’t stop the smile spreading on her face at his sulky, hopeless look. He stared at her for a moment, but his lips began to curve.
He touched his hand to his cut lip. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Madeleine’s worse than a mother.”
“Yeah. And she’s going to be in an even worse mood when Mick tells her what really happened, and she has to apologize.” He explained briefly the events of the evening.
So he hadn’t been out for a fight after all. He’d been acting all heroic. Sighing, Tabby perched next to him on the bed. “How’s your arm?”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
He flexed his hand and winced. “Sore.”
“What happened?”
“Got caught with the broken bottle.” He sighed at her frown. “I know.” He met her gaze. His eyes were such a beautiful blue, it made her think of the moment they’d made love in the grass under the canopy of the sky.
A silence fell between them. There was so much to say, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to say any of it. How co
uld she explain everything she was feeling—that she loved him so hopelessly? That she was going to miss him so much when she left? That the thought of fulfilling her dream had lost its shine with the knowledge that to do so also meant losing him?
Looking into his sad eyes, Tabby knew she couldn’t do it. She’d promised herself she’d never give up her dreams again for another man, but that was before she met Eli. He meant the world to her, and the thought of being without him devastated her more than the thought of not fulfilling her dream. He was caught up in his past, in the promise he’d made to his brother, and it clearly meant the world to him.
He wasn’t forcing her to give up her ambitions—he’d made no demands on her, not really, only a desperate plea because he wanted to be with her. He was as mixed-up about this as she was, she figured. It involved taking a huge risk, but love was a risk, she understood that, and sometimes love involved a sacrifice. She knew he loved her. And she couldn’t let him tie himself in knots any longer.
She leaned forward and kissed him over the cut on his lip.
“Ouch,” he said when she moved away, but his smile and the pleasure in his eyes betrayed his words.
She pulled back and pressed her lips together, the coolness of his lips lingering. He linked their fingers. She took a deep breath. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
Eli blinked.
“Because I do.” She turned their hands over and rubbed her thumb across his palm, brought it up to her lips and kissed it. “Eli, I can’t let you go.”
He frowned. “Tabbs…”
“Wait—” She interrupted, worried he was going to turn her down. “I know the promise you made to Charlie is important to you. I do understand that, really I do. But I also know you love me, too. And so…I’ll come to LA with you.”
Kiss and Make Up Page 17