“Speaking of work,” Patrick interrupted her train of thought as he chewed. “How’s your painting going?”
Her eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d asked her if she’d been to Timbuktu recently. “My painting?”
He nodded. “Did you ever find your own style, or are you still trying out different things?”
Amy swallowed hard and leaned back. She shook her head. “I, uh, I haven’t painted in a long time,” she said with all the casualness she could muster.
That took him by surprise. He wrinkled his nose and tilted his head. “What do you mean? Why haven’t you been painting?”
“Well.” Amy sighed heavily. “After Audrey was born, a lot of things changed. I was suddenly responsible for a tiny human being, and I needed a job to be able to take care of her.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t think I slept more than four hours a night the first two years.”
“But painting was always your dream,” Patrick said lamely, pointing out the obvious.
Amy licked her lips and picked at the potatoes distractedly. “Don’t get me wrong, painting really was my passion, but … then Audrey came along.” She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “She was such a good, beautiful baby. Those first few months, I rarely ever thought about painting. And then later …” She shrugged. “Money was tight, and I didn’t have a lot of spare time. I just never really picked it up again.”
When she raised her eyes, he was studying her with a thoughtful gaze.
“I don’t regret it though,” she added quickly. “Everything’s good.”
“Mm,” he murmured thoughtfully. After a moment he asked, “How long were you in labor?”
She uttered a strangled laugh and groaned. “Seventeen hours.”
“Oh my.”
“You can say that again.” She rolled her eyes, but she thought back on it all with amusement now. “She weighed almost eight pounds and measured twenty-one inches. She also had an incredible amount of black hair. The nurses adored her, because she hardly ever cried, and she slept most of the time.”
Seeing the proud glimmer in his eyes, she felt her heart warm. “Eight pounds? What a big bundle of joy!”
“Big indeed.” Amy nodded, grinning. “Her appetite was legendary.”
Patrick leaned forward on his elbows. “What age was she when she started talking?”
“Nine months.”
“And when did she start walking?”
“Eight months,” Amy said proudly. “And her teachers are always telling me how bright she is. She can already read a little bit, and she’s so eager to start kindergarten.”
His lips pursed pensively. “We …” He hesitated. “We have some very good schools around here.”
Amy swallowed again. Audrey’s school situation was one of the many issues she knew they’d have to discuss. In the previous weeks, Patrick had clearly shown her that he wanted to be part of Audrey’s life. That meant Amy needed to take him into account in all her future decisions. She had to do right by him and consider how to give Audrey and Patrick as much time together as possible.
It was almost time for she and Audrey to end their visit here and move into an apartment of their own again. But whether that apartment would be in Chicago or Connecticut, Amy didn’t know yet. But she did know that it didn’t seem possible to separate the happy father and daughter again. And Audrey deserved to grow up with her dad around, which meant Amy would have to leave Chicago behind and return to Connecticut for good.
And there was also the looming question of divorce. Patrick hadn’t filed for one in the six years that had elapsed. Of course, Amy had no idea what the legal situation was when you wanted to get a divorce from your missing wife, but the fact that Patrick hadn’t done anything to that effect confused her. Still, she wasn’t naïve: She knew she would be his ex-wife sooner or later.
But today of all days, she didn’t want to talk about that.
Instead, she suggested shyly, “If you want to, we could … we could look at a few of those schools.”
It looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He gave her a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful, Amy.”
She didn’t want think about the sudden gentleness in his eyes, so she lowered hers. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would it be okay if I asked your mom to go to the mall with me and Audrey tomorrow? I want to buy Audrey a bathing suit, I was going to ask you to play chauffeur, but since you have to work tomorrow …”
“I’m sure Mom would love to drive you guys. But you could always take my car, too.”
Amy swallowed. She didn’t want to tell him that she couldn’t bear the thought of getting behind the wheel again. The mere thought of it scared her shitless, awakening terrible memories of the crash. And ever since the accident, she’d been having nightmares of she and Audrey trapped in a burning car, where she couldn’t get to her daughter. So, she gave him an impassive smile and balled her hands into fists beneath the table.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll ask Eleanore.”
***
Patrick knew he was crazy—and he also knew all of his friends had to think him an idiot—but all he could think of as he parked the brand-new SUV in front of the stairs was what Amy’s face would look like when she saw it.
Normal people didn’t give a car to the woman who’d hidden their child from them for more than five years, but Patrick reassured himself with the thought that the car was mainly for Audrey anyway. Amy would be able to drive her to her doctor’s appointments, and soon, she would need a ride to school every day, too. And if they moved to Connecticut, they’d need a car for sure—public transportation was virtually nonexistent out here.
Therefore, he told himself, his decision was nothing but rational and sensible. Who would fault him for that?
The car salesman, at least, had thought Patrick’s idea was awesome. He’d picked out the biggest and safest car they had on offer. With this battleship of a vehicle, Amy would be able to plow right over potholes, and it provided the best protection in case of an accident. According to Patrick’s research, this was the safest car on America’s roads.
Excited to see Amy’s reaction, he switched off the engine and headed into the house to find her. She was in the backyard, sitting in the shade reading a book.
Apparently, she hadn’t heard him coming, because when he stopped next to her, her head jerked up. “Patrick!” She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “What are you doing home already? I thought you’d be much later.”
He didn’t say a word, just grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet, and walked her back through the house.
“Patrick? What … What’s going on?” Her voice betrayed her puzzlement. “Where are we going? Audrey’s down for a nap, if you’re looking for her.”
He didn’t answer, just pulled her through the house and out the front door, only stopping on the top step. The car reflected the sunlight, presenting a dazzling sight.
Her pretty face showed her utter confusion. Clueless as to what was going on, she looked back and forth between him and the vehicle.
“Ta-da!” he trumpeted cheerfully. He realized he hadn’t had so much fun spending money in a long time.
She frowned at him. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about? Or not talking about, as it were?”
Patrick pointed at the brand-new car. “I said ta-da. This is your new car.”
“My what?” she croaked, looking at him like he’d just said something terrible.
“Your new car,” he repeated. “When you mentioned taking my mom to the mall, because you had no other way to get there, I thought of the most effective way to solve that problem.”
“But … But … you can’t j-just buy me a car,” she spluttered.
“Why not?” he asked, still patient and happy.
“Patrick.” She shook her head, suddenly looking strangely pale. “You can’t do that!”
“You need a car,”
he pointed out casually.
She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t accept this.”
Not wanting to hear her polite protests, he maneuvered her down the steps with gentle authority. He knocked on the tinted window. “It has four-wheel drive, a fortified body, and the best brake-assist system currently available. Apart from ABS and ESP, it also has airbags in all zones. There’s no safer car around,” he concluded, before adding seriously, “I’ll feel much better with you driving Audrey around in this.”
She just stared at him speechlessly, so Patrick put his arm around her shoulder, opened the driver’s-side door, and pushed her into it. Then he walked around the hood and got in on the passenger’s side. He wasn’t as crazy about cars as his brother or his cousin J.T., but he had to admit the interior of this particular one excited him. So much so that he hardly noticed Amy sitting next to him as if she were paralyzed. He reached over and started the engine, gushing about all the extras the car came with.
“Not to say you need them,” he chuckled as he fumbled with the knob that regulated the temperature, “but it even has sensors and a camera for parallel parking.”
When she still didn’t reply, sitting stiff as a log next to him, he patted her hand indulgently. “Let’s cruise a bit while Audrey naps. Her car seat will be delivered in a few days.”
She still didn’t move, and he was slowly getting irritated. He tilted his head to look at her. Only then did he realize something was wrong. Not only was Amy shockingly pale, her face wore a mask of fear and she was clutching the edge of her seat hard. She was even shivering and sweating at the same time. He felt queasy just looking at her.
“Amy?”
“I … I can’t,” she whispered, her voice horrified and ghostly. “I can’t.”
Patrick took a deep breath, scooted closer, and put a gentle hand on her back, which felt extremely fragile right now. Her whole demeanor struck him as vulnerable, and while she had been slim when he first met her, now she appeared far too thin, drained and exhausted. Something told him he hadn’t been concerned enough about her health and well-being.
“What is it you can’t do?” he asked gently.
She frantically shook her head, close to a panic attack. “I-I need t-to get out.”
He killed the engine and put a hand on her knee. “Everything’s alright, Amy. Nothing’s going to happen to you here.”
She gasped. “I can’t breathe,” she croaked, her voice so distorted that he barely recognized it.
“Shh.” Frightened and helpless, he watched her head sink against the steering wheel moments before she burst into tears, panting so frantically he thought she might choke.
Now he was beginning to panic as well.
“Amy … Shit, what’s going on? What can I do?”
“I … can’t,” she kept choking out, as her whole body shook.
Still stroking her back in a helpless attempt to soothe her, he squeezed her leg to get her attention. “Amy …”
“Oh, God,” she groaned between sobs. “Audrey … could have died. It was my fault!”
He finally realized what was going on and cursed himself for being such a damn idiot. She hadn’t gotten behind the wheel since the accident. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before returning his attention to her trembling body and her head resting on the wheel.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he told her calmly. “The accident was not your fault.”
It was as if she hadn’t heard him. “Audrey could have died.”
“But she didn’t,” he stressed. “She’s happy and well.”
She emitted a muffled sob. “But she’ll have to take drugs her whole life!”
“Amy,” he said earnestly, “our daughter is going to lead a perfectly normal life, with very few constraints. She’ll even be able to have children. The accident was terrible, but you are both okay now. You can’t berate yourself.”
She lifted her head and looked at him, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her like that was a punch to his gut. “Patrick,” she whispered in an agonized voice, her chin quivering. “When … When we crashed … I thought we … we were going to die. Audrey was c-crying, and I-I couldn’t move, couldn’t get to her. And … and then the car caught fire …”
She faltered and hugged herself as a shiver came over her. The memory was obviously too painful. Compassion, concern, and the shock of seeing her panic like this made him tremble, too. He slowly leaned closer and pulled her face against his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “You’re okay. You both got out alive. And you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”
“Audrey’s my baby,” she sobbed against his shoulder, making no move to pull away from him, instead nestling her face in the crook of his neck. “She can’t be hurt. She has to be safe. Always.”
“Nothing’s going to hurt her,” Patrick promised, letting his hand move up and down her back.
He didn’t know how to feel about Amy’s face against his neck, or his hand on her back, stroking and comforting her. On top of the newfound sympathy and his own grief, there was a spark that he tried—but failed—to suppress. A heavy sweetness spread through him as Amy sighed and breathed exhaustedly against his skin.
“The accident was not your fault,” he murmured again, fighting the urge to rest his head against hers. “Our daughter’s fine.”
She sniffled and tilted her head back a little. “You just said our daughter.”
He looked into her blue eyes and knew that he had to watch out—or he’d drown in them.
Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he paused his hand on her back. “Yes, I did.”
She was silent for another beat. Then she whispered, “Please return the car. I don’t need it.”
Cautious but determined, he shook his head. He even left his hand where it was. “I want you and Audrey to have a safe, reliable car.”
Amy frowned. “But what if I can never drive again?”
“You will,” he replied with conviction.
“Patrick …”
Silently calling himself an idiot once again, he softly suggested, “If you need to, we can practice every day.”
Chapter 11
“Here you are.” Patrick leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek. She was lying on a deck chair beside the indoor pool.
“Hello, honey. You’re back earlier than I thought.” Eleanore pointed at his squealing girl splashing in the heated water. “Your daughter’s a real mermaid. She refuses to get out.”
And she did seem to be enjoying herself splendidly. Patrick watched her as she filled the building with her happy squeals, splashing and thrashing and leaping in the water. Meanwhile, her mother sat at the edge of the pool in shorts and a tee, laughing at Audrey’s display of delight. His stomach lurched at the sight of them. They’d been on his mind the whole day, so he’d finally cut his last meeting short and driven home. It was only four. Little did he know he’d arrive home in time to witness Audrey’s attempts at swimming.
His daughter spied him then. “Daddy!” she yelled. “Look!”
He smiled and waved. “Hello.” He slipped off his sports coat as he sauntered over, placing it on an empty deck chair as he passed. He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs, and stopped next to Amy. Blinking down with a smile, he said, “Hi.”
Her head tilted back to return the smile. “Hi.”
When he caught her cheerful gaze, he felt a pleasurable thump where his heart was. Her blue eyes wielded a gentle power, making him miserable when she was unhappy, but making his heart beat wildly when they beamed at him, as they did now.
“Daddy, look!” Audrey called. “I have a new bathing suit!”
He could barely tear his eyes away from his wife’s face, but he did in order to look at his daughter, who was in the shallow end waving her arms, complete with floaties.
“You look great,” he told her.
Audrey giggled. “Momm
y bought it for me!”
“Well done, Mommy,” he declared with another glance at Amy.
Her lips curved into a smile. “I actually had little say in the matter. She picked it out.”
Patrick tried to ignore the urgent heat in his lower body as he sat on the edge of the pool next to Amy and dipped his feet in the warm water. “She has impeccable taste, I’ll give her that.”
Amy’s cheerful laughter echoed around the pool. “I’ll remind you of that when she’s old enough to want to wear short skirts and high heels.”
He emitted an exaggerated snort. “Over my dead body.”
“The fate of the overprotective father,” she teased him gently. Then, with genuine interest, she asked, “How was your day?”
“Fortunately, it was short,” he said.
“I can see the twinkle in your eyes,” she said with a smile. “Are you by any chance skipping work, Patrick Ashcroft?”
“Shh,” he said, registering with satisfaction that she didn’t cringe when he leaned closer. “Don’t tell my boss.”
Grinning like a mischievous child, she kicked his foot underwater. “My lips are sealed.”
“Daddy,” Amy pleaded loudly. “Get in the pool with me.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I’m not wearing my trunks, honey.”
His daughter made a sad face. “But Mommy won’t get back in either.”
He smiled and leaned back. “Your mom doesn’t have a bathing suit either.”
“No!” Audrey protested promptly. “Mommy has a new swimming suit, too, Daddy!”
“A new suit?” He glanced at Amy with reawakened interest and saw her blush violently. “Let me see.”
She shook her head sheepishly. “I just hung it up to dry.”
“Where?” He didn’t bother to wait for her answer, swiveling his head around. He spied a tiny black bikini hanging over the back of a chair. God, he’d have loved to see it on her.
He grinned. “A swimming suit? That looks more like an itty bitty bikini.”
“Your mother bought it,” Amy said defensively, embarrassed. “I didn’t want to get it, but Eleanore wouldn’t listen.”
Just one kiss (The Ashcrofts Book 1) Page 24