She listened to the kettle boil and wondered if she should call Tyler. Jon had been so distressed. Surely someone should be with him? Then she remembered what Tyler had said that morning. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He plays things pretty close to his chest. Clearly, Jon wasn’t talking to his brother, either.
She took her tea to the bedroom and sat against the pillows. Her chin started to wobble and she realized she was close to tears. She took a sip of her tea, then another. Slowly, the urge to cry passed.
She grasped the cup in both hands and stared at the amber fluid, trying to decide what to do. Keep trying to get through? Take what he was offering and ask no questions? Try to find some middle ground?
There was really only one thing she could do, and in her heart she knew it. She’d tried for years to get Tyler to open up to her, to no avail. His many small rejections had meant the death of a thousand cuts for their relationship. She couldn’t do it again. She already felt too deeply for Jon. She already wanted to swoop in and save him and take away his hurts.
She needed to take a step back. She needed to protect herself. No more fabulous sex. No more letting her heart get ahead of reality. If Jon wanted to talk, if he needed a friend, she would be there for him. But she was not going to sacrifice herself to his cause. Maybe that meant she was selfish, but she couldn’t keep taking body blows only to get up and let it happen all over again. She only had so many recoveries in her, and the way she felt when she was with Jon… She couldn’t do it.
She fell asleep with the light on and woke with a start when the alarm went off at six. For the first time in months, she pressed the snooze button and rolled over. She didn’t fall back into true sleep and when she resurfaced she felt worse instead of better. And she was late for work.
It was only when she was ready to head out the door that she remembered her car was in the shop. She called a taxi and went to the window to wait. It took her a moment to register the black truck parked out front.
She stared at Jon’s familiar silhouette in the driver’s seat, then dialed the cab company again and canceled her taxi. She locked up the apartment, then took the elevator to the foyer. Jon got out of the truck when he saw her approaching.
“I thought you’d need a lift. With your car in the shop…”
“I do. Thanks.”
He looked terrible, drawn and tired. For a moment her resolve wavered. She stopped in her tracks, willing him to say something, anything, about last night. Willing him to give her some sign that she should hang in there despite her best instincts.
“Did they say when your car would be ready? I can take you to pick it up this afternoon if you like.”
She pressed her lips together. Not quite what she’d been hoping for.
“Thanks, but they said they’d drop it off.” She got into his truck. He started the engine and pulled into traffic.
“I was thinking we could go out somewhere nice on the weekend if you’d like. One of the guys was talking about the new seafood place at the Docklands. Or maybe you’ve got some place you want to try out?”
Her heart sank as she listened to the careful casualness in his voice. A nice dinner out was his way of making it up to her, of course, without actually acknowledging there was anything to make up for.
“I can’t go out with you on the weekend, Jon.”
“Okay. Maybe next week sometime, then?”
“Maybe I should rephrase. I can’t go out with you, Jon. Full stop.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Look, if this is about last night, I’m sorry. This not drinking thing has really messed with my sleeping patterns. I’m thinking about seeing the doctor for some sleeping tablets.”
She wondered how long he’d worked on his explanation. All night, by the look of him.
“You never asked me why Tyler and I broke up.”
He glanced at her, clearly surprised by the change of topic. “I figured it was none of my business.”
Normally, she would agree, but this was a pretty unique situation and Jon deserved to know why she was drawing a line under what had happened between them.
“We saw each other for three years. At one point we were practically living together. But I never felt as though he’d really bought into the relationship.” She glanced at Jon, but his gaze was fixed on the road ahead.
“You know those old fifties movies where if they showed a married couple in bed one of them always had to have their foot on the floor to get past the censors? That was how I felt Tyler was through our whole relationship—one foot on the floor all the time, never quite in the bed. There were all these no-go areas. His childhood, his parents, the nightmares he had sometimes.”
Jon shot her a quick, searching look. She wondered if he knew these things about his own brother, if they’d ever talked at all. Knowing them both, she suspected not.
“I tried so many times to get him to talk to me about it. I waited. I begged. I got angry. And eventually I realized it just wasn’t going to happen. That maybe he couldn’t open up about it, and either I had to be prepared to accept a relationship that was based on sex and a few laughs and a bunch of other superficial stuff, or I had to walk away. So I walked away. Then a few years later, Tyler met Ally and the rest is history.”
She fell silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Some people might think I’m stupid for giving up someone I loved. But you’ve seen what he’s like with Ally. There are no secrets between them. He let her in.”
They arrived at the workshop and he pulled into a parking spot. She twisted to face him more fully.
“I want that, too, Jon. I want the man I love to let me in. I want to really be a part of his life. I want the highs and the lows. And I know I probably sound like some kind of crazy stalker, having this conversation with you after only a few days, but whatever is going on between us has felt like a lot more than sex to me right from the start.”
He was studying the dash and she willed him to look at her. Finally, he did, and she could see how wary he was, how threatened he felt.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said.
She felt incredibly sad. “I know you don’t. I guess that’s what I was saying in a really roundabout way. We obviously want different things. That’s why I’m making it easier on both of us, Jon. Thank you for the past few days. And thanks for the lift.”
She leaned across and kissed his cheek.
“For what it’s worth, you’re a great guy and I hope that one day you meet your Ally. When you’re ready for her.”
She slipped from the truck and strode quickly toward the building, blinking away tears. She told herself she’d done the right thing every step of the way. By the time she got to the showroom door, she still didn’t believe it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JON WATCHED GABBY WALK AWAY from him. Everything in him wanted to call her back, to tell her that he didn’t want to meet anyone else, that he hadn’t even thought about another woman since she’d walked into her office and started giving him a hard time for using her computer.
He didn’t move, didn’t so much as lift a finger.
He hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t know what to tell her. She’d been very clear about what she wanted in a relationship, but he had no idea if he had it in him to give.
A lovely ironic twist—after years of sidestepping commitment and keeping women at arm’s length, he’d finally found someone he wanted to get close to, and he didn’t know how.
So, that’s it? You’re going to let her go? The best thing that’s ever happened to you?
Because that was one thing he knew without a doubt—he would never meet another Gabby Wade in his lifetime. She was unique, a small, fiery, feisty gem. She’d predicted he’d meet his own Ally one day. He didn’t want an Ally. He wanted Gabby. Only Gabby.
The realization crystallized things for him. He had to act or he was going to lose her. He had to do something to show her that he wasn’t interested in only
sex and laughs. He was interested in her. In the life they could have together.
Galvanized, he got out of the truck and headed for the building. He strode straight through the showroom and into the workshop and started up the stairs to Tyler’s office.
His brother was seated at the drafting board positioned to the left of his desk, poring over a blueprint.
“I’ll do it. I’ll buy in,” Jon said without any preamble.
For a long moment Tyler simply stared at him. Then his lips curved into a big smile and he put down his pen. “Hey. That’s great.”
Jon walked to the visitor’s chair and sat. “What happens next?”
Tyler used his legs to push his office chair to his desk and reached for a folder. “It’s not rocket science, so it shouldn’t take too long to work out a deal. But you’ll need to get your own lawyer to go over it, and I think we should get an outside valuation.”
“Sure. Whatever you think.”
Tyler grinned at him. “I gotta tell you, you’ve surprised me. I was pretty sure you were going to turn me down.”
“You and me both.”
His brother eyed him shrewdly. “Is this about Gabby?”
Jon hesitated a moment. But there was no reason to hide his intentions. He wanted Gabby to be a part of his life. “Yeah. It is.”
“Good.”
Jon waited for him to say more, but Tyler simply turned to his computer.
“Did you get a chance to go over all the figures in the five-year plan?”
They talked business for a few minutes. Jon felt his shoulders loosening more with each second that passed. Now that he’d jumped, he felt free. Crazy, when he’d effectively tied himself to his brother for life.
“One of the things I want you to know up front is that I’ll want some time off when the baby’s born,” Tyler said. “I figure I might as well take advantage of being my own boss, and I want to be with Ally in those early weeks as much as possible.”
“But you’d still be available for design work?”
“Of course. But I’ll leave it to you and Gabby to handle client meetings and that end of things. I’ve been mucking around with some designs for nursery furniture. I was thinking it might be worth adding some pieces to the catalogue.” Tyler talked about his and Ally’s plans for the nursery for a few minutes.
Jon marveled at his brother’s unwavering enthusiasm. Tyler was practically skipping and singing and clicking his heels he was so happy about Ally’s pregnancy. He didn’t seem to have a single doubt. Jon couldn’t comprehend it.
“Aren’t you worried?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
“About all the stuff that could go wrong?” Tyler asked. “Sure. But Ally’s got a great doctor and we’re doing lots of research. It’s a leap of faith. But I’d rather take the risk than not.”
“I meant you. Aren’t you worried about you?” Jon had started this, he figured he might as well finish it. “Aren’t you worried you might be like him?”
Jon shifted in his chair, frustrated with his ability to articulate his feelings. It wasn’t that he thought Tyler was in any way like his father. His brother was even-tempered and good-natured and there was no doubting his love for Ally. The odds were high that he’d be a great father. But there was no denying that their father’s blood ran in their veins. For many years their only model of manhood—of fatherhood—had been a bullying, violent monster. That had to come from somewhere, and who was to say that it wasn’t waiting inside either of them, waiting to be expressed?
Tyler put his pen down on the desk. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I hear myself say something, or catch sight of myself in the mirror and I see shades of him. That ever happen to you?”
“Every time I shave.”
They both had their father’s strong jawline.
“Yeah. When I was younger, every time I lost my temper, every time I wanted to rip someone’s head off it would freak me out.”
“I caught myself calling someone a bloody mongrel once. Made my blood run cold,” Jon said. “Never said it again.”
It had been their father’s favorite epithet, usually spat in fury.
Tyler nodded grimly. “The thing is, we’re not like him. He was like a little kid, needing to get his own way the whole time. He had no concept of self-control. You remember how he used to get when he was angry, smashing stuff, laying into us. I never once heard him take responsibility for his mistakes or failings. Not once. It was always about other people. I’m not perfect. Far from it. But I’m not like that. And neither are you, mate.”
Tyler was so certain. So sure. For the second time in as many days Jon felt a twist of envy. His brother had his shit all worked out, while Jon was still flailing around. Tyler had Ally, a baby on the way, a house that was a home, not just a roof over his head…
You’ve got Gabby.
Except he didn’t. Not yet, because he’d let her walk away this morning without offering her any of the things she needed to hear.
But that was why he was sitting here right now, talking to his brother, right? Buying into the business, letting her know that he wasn’t going anywhere.
That he was serious about her, about them.
It had taken guts for Gabby to put herself on the line this morning. The least he could do was try to match her courage.
But he didn’t want to offer Gabby the least. He wanted to offer her the most. The best. Which meant he had some serious work to do.
THE DAY DRAGGED FOR GABBY. For the first time in her life she failed to find solace and distraction in her work. Her mind kept drifting to Jon, or she’d catch sight of him in the workshop or hear him talking and laughing with the guys.
In her gut, she knew she’d made the only decision she could. Everything had happened so quickly between them. She felt as though she’d been running downhill, arms flailing, out of control—and it wasn’t until the last minute that she’d recognized that there was nothing but disaster waiting for her at the bottom of the slope.
She assured herself she’d stopped in time so often during the day that it almost became a mantra.
At five o’clock on the dot she packed up for the day. She wanted to be alone. Or at least somewhere Jon wasn’t. Dino pretended to faint when she offered a general goodbye to the team and headed for the door, carefully avoiding looking directly at Jon.
Last night they’d left together and she’d shown him her apartment and they’d eaten beef in black bean sauce and fried rice and made love once on the couch and once in her bed.
Tonight she microwaved a frozen meal and watched six episodes of Friends back to back in an effort to short-circuit her circling thoughts.
The next two days ground by. On Thursday Jon made a point of coming into her office and chatting for twenty minutes as though they were old friends and she had to go into the bathroom afterward so no one could see her chin wobbling.
She didn’t want to be his friend. She was sick of being the friend.
By the time she crawled into bed on Friday night she was feeling flat and teary. She missed Jon. In a single visit he’d marked her apartment indelibly with his presence. She looked at her bookcase and remembered him playing with her windup toys, and she went into the kitchen and saw him spooning Chinese takeout into bowls and laughing at her insistence that they eat with chopsticks, and in her bedroom she remembered how he’d pinned her against her pillows while he tortured her with his roving mouth.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, she told herself it would get better. It wasn’t as though she’d fallen in love with him, after all. She’d caught herself, just in time.
She woke to the sound of loud knocking. She prized an eye open and looked at her alarm clock. Barely eight. On a Saturday morning.
“This had better be good,” she muttered as she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe.
If it was her downstairs neighbor asking whether Gabby had seen her cat again, she was going to be seriously hard-pressed not to r
each for the nearest blunt object. It had taken her hours to fall asleep, and even if it hadn’t been exactly restful it had at least been better than being awake, mooching around pretending she wasn’t the next best thing to heartbroken.
She shuffled toward the foyer, tying the sash on her robe as she went. Yawning hugely, she opened the door.
Jon stood on the other side looking better than anyone had a right to when she was feeling so low and he was the culprit.
“Did I wake you? Sorry. I assumed you’d be up.”
“It’s Saturday. I sleep in on Saturdays.”
“Ah. Well, I’m here now.”
He bent to collect a large black box, angled his shoulder and stepped forward, forcing her to fall back. Before she knew it he’d pushed past her and into her apartment and was placing what she now recognized as a toolbox down in her living room.
“I’ve got some wood I need to bring up from the truck, and some tools. Might be a few trips.”
“Jon. Wait!” she said, but he was already disappearing out the door.
She scurried into her bedroom to pull on some clothes and tried to ignore the slow bubble of happiness rising inside her. She reminded herself that Jon was a closed book, that she was already dangerously close to being beyond help where he was concerned, that she had to remain strong no matter what he said to her when he came back. With his tools and his wood.
She’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a tank top and was standing at the door arms crossed over her chest by the time he returned.
“One more trip,” he said as he entered with a large piece of timber over his shoulder and a circular saw in one hand. “Jon. Stop.”
“I figure if I go at it hard, I can get everything but the painting done today.”
He was about to step out the door again but she stood in his path.
“Jon. What are you doing here?”
“I’m knocking down your wall.”
“Why?”
“Because you said you wanted it knocked down.”
He was laughing at her with his eyes.
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