In spite of everything, Laura had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “I don’t suppose she had anyone in particular in mind for the job?”
He gave her a sheepish look, reminding her so much of the shy man she’d nearly fallen in love with five years ago. “Actually,” he cleared his throat, “Melody is quite knowledgeable on the subject of holistic health. In fact,” he added, as if surprised by his own thoughts, “she really is the most remarkable woman, once you get beneath the strange clothes she wears—I mean—” His face went crimson.
“That’s okay.” Laura held up her hand.
“I meant, intellectually,” he rushed to explain.
“I know what you meant, and I quite agree. Melody is a very intelligent, wonderfully genuine person.”
“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” His embarrassment shifted to pride.
Laura blinked, wondering if he’d ever felt that silly sort of enchantment for her. “You really like her, don’t you?”
He shrugged, hedging. “She’s just so different from anyone I’ve ever known. She’s frustrating, irritating, and completely exasperating, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about her. And she knows it, too. From the first moment I met her, that day of the Homes Tour, she’s had this way of looking at me, all smug and amused, like she can read my mind and knows how attracted I’ve been, even though I didn’t want to be. You’ve got to believe me, I never meant to think about her like that.”
“Greg, it’s okay. It’s not like you cheated on me or anything.”
His gaze dropped to his shoes. “I just want you to know I didn’t mean for—for tonight to happen. I’m not even sure how it did. One minute, we were yelling at each other—even though I never yell; you know I never yell. The next thing I know, we’re tearing each other’s clothes off like a couple of sex-crazed teenagers.”
“Greg, please, you don’t have to explain.” Her hand went back up. “In fact, I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“Sorry.” He studied her a moment, then tilted his head in surprise. “You’re not angry.”
“No, I’m not. Surprised. Shocked, maybe, but not angry. I just never pictured you and Melody, well, you know.”
“I did.” He grinned. “Picture it, I mean. A little too often. I guess somehow I knew how it would be. She drives me nuts, but at the same time, tonight I felt more alive than I ever have. Ever. With anyone.” Realizing what he’d just said, he rushed to add, “Not that it wasn’t great with you—”
Laura shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m happy for you, Greg. I mean that. And I think that whatever this is between you and Melody, you ought to give it a chance.”
“You really think so? You don’t think it’s weird us being together, I mean with me being younger and all?”
“Does being younger bother you?” she asked.
He thought about it a moment, then grinned. “Actually, no. Not in the least.”
“Then no, I don’t think it’s weird.”
“Thanks.” He sighed. “You know, you’ve been a good friend. I hope we can keep that, at least.”
“Me, too.”
They stood for a moment, staring at each other.
Then, with a laugh, they stepped forward and embraced. The hug was friendly and filled with the warmth of many fond memories.
“You take care of yourself,” she whispered.
“Hey, you don’t have to say it like we’ll never see each other again. I have a feeling you may be seeing a lot of me if things work out with Melody.”
“I hope so. But either way, take care,” she said.
“You’re a very special person.”
“You, too.”
With a final nod, he turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, she sank to the bed, dropped her face into her hands, and wept. The sorrow didn’t come from his accepting that their relationship was over, or that he’d found something special with Melody. The sorrow came from knowing that door to her life was finally, irrevocably closed. Even though she wanted that, it was still an ending, and every ending—even a welcome one—left a small hole with its passing.
A few moments passed before Melody rapped lightly on the door; then poked her head inside. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” She managed a weak smile.
Melody frowned. “You okay?”
She started to say yes, but when she opened her mouth, a tiny sob escaped. “No.”
“Oh, honey.” Rushing forward, Melody enveloped her in her arms. The tears came hot and fast as Melody rocked her. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know you still cared for him. Please believe me, I never would have let this happen, no matter how attracted I was to him. I swear I didn’t think you’d care.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t?” Melody leaned back to study her face. “Then why are you sitting here crying your heart out?”
She shrugged. “I guess it’s not every night a girl gets dumped by two men.”
“Two men?”
“Brent and I…” She took a breath and forced herself to say it, to accept it. “Brent and I split up.”
“No!” Melody’s face registered disbelief, then sorrow. “Oh, honey, what happened?”
Laura explained the whole evening. As she spoke, a nagging suspicion wormed its way into the back of her mind, that maybe, if she hadn’t jumped to the assumption that Brent was going to propose marriage earlier in the evening, she might have reacted differently to the proposal he had offered. From the expression on Melody’s face, her friend had come to the same conclusion. “What?” she asked, hoping she was wrong. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Melody insisted quickly.
Laura stood in a rush, needing to move. Would the evening have worked out differently if not for her sudden attack of old-fashioned values? But dammit, those values weren’t wrong. She glanced back at Melody and caught her friend’s pitying expression. “You think I acted unreasonably, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you thought it.”
“No, I—” Melody slumped. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to feel the way you do, but—”
“You think I overreacted.”
“I’m just saying issuing an ultimatum usually isn’t the best way to deal with people, especially men.”
“I didn’t give him an ultimatum.”
Melody arched a brow.
“I never said ‘propose marriage or I’m out of here’.” But neither had she denied it when Brent had said it. Self-conscious under her friend’s steady gaze, she straightened the items on the top of the dresser. “I simply stated the facts as I saw them. He doesn’t love me, not truly, so what would be the point of my moving to D.C. with him?” Yet the idea of staying behind felt like a knife twisting in her heart. “If I went with him, it would only get worse, Melody. Can’t you see that? Emotionally, I’d starve to death by slow degrees waiting for a few crumbs of commitment from him. I can’t live like that, so it’s best I get out now.”
She glanced over her shoulder, pleading for her friend to understand. “Don’t you think?”
Melody studied her for a long moment. “What are the facts as Brent sees them?”
Her shoulders slumped. “That I lied to him, deceived him, tried to trap him.”
“I doubt he phrased it quite so harshly,” Melody said. “And even if he did, he was probably just lashing out because you’d hurt him.”
That stiffened Laura’s spine. “Well, he hurt me, too. Don’t my feelings count?”
“Of course they do.” Melody came off the bed to take Laura’s hand in her own. With her other hand, she brushed the hair off Laura’s forehead. “You have every right to be upset. In fact, do what I do, and wallow in it a while. Then, tomorrow morning, when you’ve both calmed down, you can call him and work this out like two rational adults who care deeply for each other.”
“I will not.” Laura stepped away from Melody’s comforting touch. The mere thought of calling Brent sent waves of
panic through her. She’d made a big enough fool of herself already. The last thing she would do was open herself up to more pain by chasing after him.
But am I willing to give up what I have just because I can’t have it all? she wondered. The temptation to give in to such naked longing, to sacrifice her dream of a family in order to stay with Brent, hurt as much as the thought of losing him. But to call him and apologize?
“No,” she said, striving for conviction, “I won’t call. If he wants to work things out, he can call me. I’m through making all the sacrifices. If Brent wants to be with me, it’s time he made a few of his own.”
Melody sighed, but Laura refused to look at her. She’d made her stand, and if she backed down now, she’d lose the only thing she had left: her self-respect.
“Laura,” her friend said at last, “I know you’re hurting. But if there’s one thing I learned from being married to a military man, it’s that you have to offer the enemy a way to surrender and still save face.”
Laura turned around, horrified at hearing Brent called an enemy. “I’m not asking him to surrender. I’d just like someone besides me to do the bending for a change.”
“You know, Laura, there’s something I’ve noticed about you,” Melody said. “You aren’t nearly as flexible as people think. Oh, ninety percent of the time you are, but then there’s that ten percent when you dig in your heels and refuse to budge. Take this standoff with your father, for instance. Don’t you think that man knows he’s in the wrong for the way he acted?”
Laura frowned but didn’t answer.
“You’ve said it yourself, he’s likely eaten up with guilt,” Melody continued. “Given that, don’t you think he’d rush to meet you more than halfway if you just made the first step? Sometimes you have to take the first step, even if you’re in the right, so the one who’s wrong can salvage a little pride.”
“What about my pride?”
“Is your pride more important to you than a relationship with Brent?”
Laura frowned. What if she did take that first step toward Brent, only to find out he’d changed his mind about wanting her to move with him to Washington? Or what if she moved to D.C., secretly hoping that someday he’d come to love her enough to offer marriage? Would that be fair to him—or to her? “I won’t call him.” She said the words more quietly this time, but with no less conviction. Wrapping her arms about herself, she refused to meet Melody’s sorrowful gaze. “If Brent wants to make up, he can call me. And that’s final.”
“Oh, Laura.” With a sigh, Melody shook her head. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”
“Why, because you think I’m wrong?”
“No. When it comes to love, there is no right and wrong. Just be careful you don’t back yourself into a corner you can’t gracefully get out of, or you really will have to sacrifice your pride.”
The truth of those words made her turn away. “Don’t you understand, Melody?” she said softly. “It’s not just a matter of pride.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a matter of facing reality.” Laura closed her eyes, feeling suddenly drained. “Brent has always been my impossible dream. For a while, I forgot that dreams don’t last. Eventually, the time comes when you have to wake up.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “And that’s what I have to do, wake up and get on with my life.”
Chapter 25
“This is Brent Michaels, reporting from the nation’s capital.” The words rolled off Brent’s tongue by rote, as so many words seemed to do lately. Standing on the steps of the capitol building, he felt oddly detached—as if he were standing outside himself watching a successful news reporter wrap up another live feed. Even the chill of the November wind slicing through his overcoat barely registered on his senses.
“Good job, Brent.” His producer’s voice filled his ear through the IFB. The woman was young, competent, and aggressive, but there were times when her peppy enthusiasm irritated the hell out of him.
He missed Connie’s deprecating humor and Keshia’s quick comebacks, which had often made keeping a straight face on the air a challenge. As the cameraman took his mic and loaded up the van, he realized how much he missed Jorge’s odd blend of street smarts and naïveté. He missed going out for Mexican food with the crew at midnight. He even missed the damned Rottweilers slobbering all over him when he came through the front door.
And he missed Laura.
God, he missed her so much, he felt as if someone had carved a hole in his chest. How could anyone hurt this much without actually bleeding?
He’d thought the wretched pain would ease with time. Yet after two and a half months, he still couldn’t take a full breath without feeling as if something might break loose inside. Out of sheer self-preservation, he knew he had to keep a lid on his emotions. Because once the pain broke loose, it would devour him whole.
“Mr. Michaels,” the cameraman called, “I’m all loaded up, if you’re ready to go.”
He stared at the boy’s energetic face, bright with the chill of autumn. If he had to get in that van and listen to the kid’s cheerful banter all the way back to the station, his control would snap. “No, you go on. I’ll catch the Metro.”
The cameraman shrugged as if Brent were crazy but climbed into the van. A moment later, Brent was alone. Blessedly alone. Turning up the collar of his overcoat to ward off the wind, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the middle of D.C.’s famous mall, not really caring where he went. With the summer tourist season over, the grassy park that stretched from the capitol building to the Washington Monument appeared virtually deserted. A few transients slept on the benches before the numerous buildings of the Smithsonian and an occasional jogger passed by.
Decorations on the lampposts reminded him that tomorrow would be Thanksgiving. He’d always hated the holidays, and this year he dreaded them even more than usual. Holidays reminded him too keenly that he was an outsider. Only with Laura had he felt a part of the world around him. A part of something vital.
With a few shallow breaths, he pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the present, on the crunch, of the brittle grass beneath his feet, the sting of the wind in his face.
He’d wanted this job so badly. Perhaps too badly. When his agent had called with the offer from the network, his first response had been disbelief. Was that why he hadn’t told Laura right away? Had he simply needed time to let it sink in?
No, he admitted in a moment of brutal honesty. He hadn’t told her because he’d known what her answer would be; and he’d needed a whole day to convince himself he was wrong—that she would blithely follow him anywhere he went.
Weary beyond belief, he settled onto an empty bench in front of the building known as “The Castle.” Even deserted as it was today, the merry-go-round that stood before it struck him as a snapshot of the American dream, something young couples with cozy homes in the suburbs brought their children to ride; then returned to those homes to share an evening meal as a unit, a whole. Did such happiness really exist, or was it all a myth?
As if to taunt him, an image rose in his mind of Laura lifting a little girl with, a ponytail and glasses onto one of the brightly painted horses. He could almost hear the laughter as the little version of Laura turned to him and cried, “Look at me, Daddy.”
He shook his head to dispel the vision as pain speared through him. As a realist, he knew better than to indulge in such flights of fancy. A home and children were Laura’s dream, not his. Besides, what was so great about marriage anyway?
He waited for the righteous tirade to come, like a tape that had played repeatedly in his head for the past two months—on how Laura had claimed she accepted him as he was, then turned on him in the end. Unfortunately, the angry words died more quickly with each passing day. In their place, silence stretched all around him, a silence he wasn’t sure he could face much longer. Still it remained, growing more vast until he thought he would sell his soul just to have the quiet
broken with the sound of Laura’s voice.
Other times, he could almost hear her whisper in the back of his mind, If you loved me, you’d want to marry me, no matter how much the idea frightens you.
Of all the things she’d said, that one had struck the deepest chord of truth. He was afraid—deathly afraid to open himself up a second time after what had happened. He’d told her he needed her, that he cared. And she’d acted as if that meant nothing.
He stood abruptly and resumed walking away from the capitol. Leaving the mall, he crested the hill of the Washington Monument and started down the grassy slope on the other side. No matter how far he walked, though, her words still hounded him.
If you loved me, you’d want to marry me, no matter how much the idea frightens you.
He picked up his pace until he reached the reflecting pool before the Lincoln Memorial and could go no further. He stopped and stared down at his own reflection, at the desperation that ravaged his face—and he accepted the truth. He loved Laura Beth Morgan. How that was possible, he wasn’t quite sure, but she was so much a part of him, he knew the feeling was real and it would never go away.
Closing his eyes, he tried to picture telling her. Would she leap into his arms, filling his life with joy? Or would she turn him away, ending all chance of winning her back? But even if she did turn away, could he possibly hurt any more than he did right now? He opened his eyes and stared at the leaden sky. One way or another, this had to end. He simply couldn’t go on any longer without hearing her voice.
His hands shook as he fumbled in the pocket of his overcoat for his cell phone, then he hesitated. What if she refused to even talk to him? Perhaps he should wait until evening to call her at home. But he couldn’t wait. He had to talk to her now. Pulling her work number from memory, he punched it in.
“Doctor’s office, may I help you?” a cheerful voice answered.
“Tina?” His heart raced, to be this close to Laura by the magic of a telephone. “This is Brent. Is Laura in?”
“I’m sorry, this isn’t Tina. She quit,” the new receptionist announced cheerfully. “I’m Angie.”
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