“No, I’m being silly. I’ve got plenty of time. What are you thinking about?”
“I like this part of the city. It’s busy without being congested, and it’s close to so many fun spots. Wouldn’t it be exciting to live in a place like this?”
Nic shrugged and seemed to look past Annabelle again. “It’s not as quiet as home, and not nearly as much space. I’m not sure I could relax.”
Nic certainly seemed high-strung this morning as she chewed her bagel quickly and swilled her coffee. What was the hurry, or was she always like this in work mode? Annabelle reminded herself again they weren’t on a date. They were only having this breakfast together because she’d stormed into Nic’s carefully planned schedule to accuse her of adultery. No wonder Nic seemed uncomfortable.
“Honey, do you really forgive me for last night?”
“What? Of course. It’s my fault for leaving you alone so much. It’s easier to forgive you than to forgive myself for making you doubt me. I need to do better.”
Her chest ached again at the emotion stirring there. She couldn’t let Nic take any amount of blame for her lack of faith. “Please, I don’t want to hear any more of that. You’re nothing short of wonderful. Don’t change a thing.”
“Then the same goes for you.”
“Okay, I promise.” Belle reached across the table to take Nic’s hand.
Nic glanced over her shoulder again. The move was quick and easily dismissed as her stretching her neck, but it sparked a twinge of residual suspicion, and Annabelle scanned the buildings behind them, in the same swift flick of her gaze Nic had used. She saw nothing but a lone woman sitting by the front window of the bookstore. She wouldn’t have been noticeable at all if not for her striking red hair.
This one is a redhead. The words rattled through her brain and shook her limbs, but Nic quieted the tremor by taking her hand.
“I love you, Belle.”
She nodded. Nic did love her. Her mind was playing tricks on her again. She was paranoid. Nic was right here, with her. Would she have loved her so fiercely last night if she shared her bed with someone else? No. Nic couldn’t, wouldn’t do that.
She swallowed the last of her bagel, forcing it past the dryness in her throat until she could speak. “I need to get home.”
“As much as I hate to, I should probably get to work, too.” Nic stood and cleared the table quickly. Did she feel relieved or did it only appear that way?
This was absurd. When had she determined to find fault in Nic’s every action? How did she still manage to feel suspicious when Nic continued to be perfect? She had no valid reason not to feel happier and more secure than ever, but the facts of the situation offered a bleak contrast to her inner turmoil. Her pulse quickened and her palms tingled. She’d heard of women having nervous breakdowns. Did they include this racing stream of illogical thoughts? Should she make an appointment with her doctor? A therapist?
No. She just had to stop this train of thought right now. Mind over matter. She took Nic’s hand. She couldn’t resist one more look at the bookstore window. The woman watched them openly now, but with Nic holding Annabelle’s hand, nothing seemed nearly as threatening.
She was okay. Everything was okay.
*
Davis’s heart sank, her chest constricted, the corners of her mouth drooped. Hell, she probably even had puppy-dog eyes, and any other sappy, overly dramatic cliché people use when they experience a rush of sadness. Why had Nic walked away? They’d made eye contact, and even across the intersection she’d felt their connection. Then, inexplicably, she’d turned and left, holding the hand of the most perfect Barbie Doll Southern belle she’d ever seen.
“Damn it.” She kicked the leg of the table, then mumbled an apology to the coffee-house employees, slipped outside onto the small patio, and shut the sliding-glass door behind her. Flipping open her cell, she dialed a number from memory.
“Cassandra Riggins Realty.”
“Cass…”
“Uh-oh, what happened?”
“I just saw Nic, and she totally ignored me.”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?” Davis’s voice went up a few notches. “She blew me off. She was right across the street, and she looked at me, then walked away.”
“She just wandered off down the street by herself?”
“No, not by herself. She was holding some other woman’s hand.”
Cass sighed. “Why did you leave that part out in your first draft of this story?”
“Because it makes it sound worse than it is,” Davis said without much confidence.
“How do you know how bad it is? You wouldn’t have called me if there was some logical explanation.”
“Well, I’m sure there is. I just can’t think of one.” Davis pouted.
“So you expected me to think of one? What in our many years of friendship suggests I’m the person to turn to for sweet, naive reassurances?”
She had a point, but she’d panicked. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t expect you to know what’s going on. I just needed to vent.”
“Now that I get. You just saw your sometimes-sleepover buddy in the afterglow of knocking boots with someone else. That’s always a little awkward.”
“That’s not what happened. There has to be some misunderstanding.”
“Occam’s razor, darling. The simplest answer is usually the correct one.”
“Not in this case.”
“How do you know?” Cass asked.
“I know.” Davis spoke with a certainty she didn’t feel.
“How?”
“She told me she loved me last night. We both said it.” Emotion thickened her throat at the memory. “We made love and then we said we loved each other. It was a huge step for us.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Cass, are you still there?”
“Yes. I just don’t know what to say.” Cass’s voice softened. “I hate to be the killjoy, but if she spent last night professing her love, why aren’t you still ensconced in some lovers’ nest somewhere?”
Confusion and disappointment surged through her again. Those questions had kept her up all night. Something about Nic’s explanation hadn’t felt right. “She got a phone call from a friend and had to leave in a hurry.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What? I just said ‘uh-huh.’ It means nothing. It means I heard what you said and I’m still listening.”
“It means you don’t believe her story.”
“Darling, I think your defensiveness indicates that you don’t believe her story. The way you’re trying so hard to prevent me from jumping to conclusions means you’ve already considered them and don’t like what you found.” Cass was completely and maddeningly logical. “I think you didn’t believe her last night, and this morning she confirmed your suspicions, which is why you didn’t go to her and why you’re upset now.”
“You don’t know her, Cass.”
“No, but you do, and you can’t explain the situation either.”
“I feel crazy. Nic’s never given me any reason to distrust her.”
“Of course she hasn’t.” Cass snorted. “If you don’t count the fact that she disappears for days on end, you can’t ever get ahold of her, she’s never invited you to her place, she ditches you right after sex, and she ignores you when you see her with some other woman.”
Davis closed her eyes and tried to focus on the image of Nic holding her tight, the echo of her voice saying, “I love you.” It had all been so real. The beauty of it had shaken her cynicism, but now her hands shook from something else. Doubt surged through her like bile. It had been months since she’d tasted the bitterness that used to govern her every interaction. Jaded had been her default until Nic had walked into her life. She’d come so far from being the woman who automatically assumed the worst. She barely remembered why she’d been so guarded in the early stage
s of their relationship, but now those awful feelings came rushing back.
The skepticism felt like an icy hand at her throat. Where had she gone wrong? How had she slipped from cool and collected to passionate professions of love in four months? Had she ignored all the signs she’d sworn to be on guard for? She searched her memory: the unanswered calls, the lonely weekends, the lack of personal details. When examined with a critical eye, everything seemed dark and sinister. But nothing about their relationship had ever existed in a clinical sense. She couldn’t explain their connection, but she could trust it. Couldn’t she?
Did it make her a fool to believe in what she had with Nic instead of the phantom fears and shadowy suspicions choking her right now? Or would she be stupid to give in to residual cynicism over the connection she felt so strongly? Every option made her feel insane. Was she imagining things? Had she imagined things all along?
“Davis, are you still there?”
She startled at the voice on the phone. “Sorry, Cass. I just, I don’t know what’s going on with me this morning. I’m a little disoriented.”
“Do you need me to come over?”
She shook her head and then remembered Cass couldn’t see her. “No, I just need to pull it together.”
“Are you sure?”
She took a deep breath and glanced around, trying to anchor herself to the here and now. She took in the traffic, people passing along the sidewalk, the restaurant across the street, anything tangible. Then she turned around and looked right into Nic’s deep-blue eyes. She’d come back for her, and the depth of emotion that passed between them without a word evaporated the haze of doubt.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
*
Nic watched relief flood Davis’s features as she smiled wearily, but her initial reaction was only the first battle in a bigger war she shouldn’t even fight. She needed to let Davis go. When she’d walked away with Belle, she should have kept on walking. That would’ve been the easiest path, the one she longed to take, but she couldn’t. She owed Davis a good-bye, a formal end to what they’d done. And it did have to end. She couldn’t hurt Belle the way she had last night, and she couldn’t become the person who lied, cheated, and took what she wanted no matter whom she hurt.
She tried to find words to explain what had seemed so clear last night, but then Davis was in her arms. She didn’t know how it happened. Maybe they were just drawn to each other in a way neither of them could control. Davis’s warm breath fluttered over the sensitive skin of her neck, causing a thrill to course down her spine. She hugged her tighter, trying to imprint the press of their bodies on her memory while simultaneously forgetting why this was the last time she could hold her.
Oh, God, it’s happening again. Nic had to pull away if she had any hope of being able to do what she’d come here to do. She summoned the image of Belle standing in the doorway of her hotel room last night, and her chest constricted. The pain wasn’t as strong as the night before, but still enough to make her step back, and when she did Davis landed a sharp blow on her shoulder.
“Ouch.” She hadn’t expected Davis to hit her, but the thrill of the unexpected had always been part of the attraction. “What was that for?”
“For running out on me last night.” Davis punched her in the other arm. “And that’s for walking away this morning.”
“Fair enough.”
“No, not fair at all. You left me sitting here thinking all kinds of crazy things. Damn it, you’ve spent the last four months teaching me to trust you and have a little faith in my own instincts, and then you go and shake all of that.”
“I’m sorry, Davis. I was stupid. I didn’t think about how you’d feel.” All true statements, but clearly the truth wasn’t enough because Davis continued to wait for more. “I just, something happened last night…”
“Something blond and shapely who spent the night?”
“No.” She shook her head. No more lying. “Yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“Really? You run out on me with some half-baked story, then stroll by hand-in-hand with some other woman, ignoring me completely, and all you can say is, it’s not what I think?”
Nic cringed at the hard edge creeping back into Davis’s voice. That doubt came from hurt deeply ingrained by years of disappointments, and everything she had to say would only make it worse. Her betrayal would confirm everything this stunning woman feared about love, honesty, and her own self-worth. Damn it.
“Was she the friend you mentioned last night?”
“Yes.” Nic’s stomach roiled at the thought of discussing Belle with Davis. “My best friend since college.”
“Is she okay?”
“I think she will be.”
“Why ignore me?”
“I didn’t know what to do. She’s going through a rough time. She thinks her partner is cheating on her. She’s scared and suspicious.” Each answer came easier than the one before. They weren’t lies really, and they seemed to soothe Davis. They soothed her, too. When had these sorts of conversations become more comfortable than the truth?
“I know how she feels. It’s like you’re suffocating, or your brain isn’t working, like you’re losing your grasp on everything you know.”
The ache in her chest returned in force, and her animal instinct to avoid pain took over. “I’m so sorry. I hate that I made you feel that way, but I didn’t want to flaunt our happiness in her face.”
Davis didn’t give in, but her expression softened, and Nic kept talking. “I’d just been in your arms telling you how much I loved you, and then she was there and hurting, and I spent all night trying to reassure her. This morning when I saw you and her at the same time, I don’t know, the contrast made me feel guilty.”
“Baby, you shouldn’t feel guilty for being happy.”
Nic smiled the first real smile she’d smiled all morning. She’d needed to hear that and wanted to believe it. Should she put her happiness first? Wasn’t that selfish?
Davis moved closer. “Sometimes you make things harder than you have to.”
Her heart pounded. If only Davis understood how true her words were. She made everything harder than it should’ve been. She should’ve been happy with her life, but she had to complicate it. She had to hurt Belle and Davis. She’d made a mess out of what should’ve been perfection, and now here she was telling half-truths to a woman she wanted to cling to. But were they really only half true? She was happy, and she did feel guilty about that. She did love Davis, and Davis loved her. That was a truth larger than any detail. Didn’t the great truths matter most?
It would’ve been different if Davis didn’t want her anymore, if she had been mad instead of sad, if she’d yelled instead of pleaded for reassurance. No, Davis didn’t want the truth. She wanted to hold her. Belle didn’t want the truth either. She wanted to believe. Nic could give them what they wanted just like she had for months. Belle had left happy, and Davis stood on the verge of the same kind of joy. She could secure them both, make them both feel safe and loved, and wasn’t that what all of them really wanted?
She wrapped her arms around Davis’s waist and squeezed her. “You’re right. About everything. I do make things harder than they have to be. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I more than forgive you. I love you.”
Nic exhaled all of the tension she’d been carrying, either in relief or resignation. “I love you, too.”
They held each other for a long moment before Davis finally whispered, “Take me home.”
Her blood pumped quickly, reigniting the spark she’d tried to extinguish last night. She took Davis’s hand as the familiar heat spread through her body, then turned toward the sidewalk.
Her heart went cold. The ice spread through her limbs and froze the very breath in her lungs. Rendered completely immobile by what she saw in front of her, Nic could only stare wordlessly at Belle.
Chapter Eight
No air, there was no air, not in her lungs, not anywhere a
round her. Annabelle’s vision blurred at the peripherals, causing a tunnel of sight straight to Nic in some other woman’s arms. Even if there could be a logical explanation for the press of their bodies, the look on Nic’s face told her everything she needed to know about what she’d just witnessed. She knew what Nic looked like in love and in lust, and both emotions were clearly visible in her eyes. Thirteen years of life flashed through her mind, like dominos toppling one after another and scattering across the floor of her memory as she watched all the blood drain from Nic’s face.
“Belle.” Fear caused her voice to sound strangled.
“Nic?” the other woman asked, pleading raw in her voice.
“Davis.” Nic sighed. “Oh, God.”
Davis? The name rattled through her as another piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Not a man or an intern, but a woman. A lover. A red-haired lover who had called Nic at all hours for months.
Months.
A wave of nausea surged through her.
She’d gone back to the hotel with the intent of leaving, but the nagging voice inside her wouldn’t let go. As much as she’d feared for her sanity, she gave in to the compulsion and walked the few blocks back to the bookstore, chastising herself the whole way. Why couldn’t she trust Nic over some little whine of intuition? Now she had her confirmation. Her instincts had been right. She wasn’t crazy, or at least she hadn’t been before she saw everything she knew about her past and her future evaporate. Surely she’d be driven mad now with grief and pain.
“What’s going on?” Davis asked, sounding very much like she already knew the answer, or at least had a strong suspicion.
Nic turned from one of them to the other, her eyes darting futilely for a way out before taking a step back away from both of them, like a frightened animal ready to run. She took another step before bumping against the rail of the porch. She didn’t have anywhere left to go, physically or figuratively. The denials didn’t flow the way they had the night before. Nic seemed to search for something, anything to get her out of this hell, but found nothing in her surroundings or herself that offered any of them an escape. Fear, anguish, hopelessness, and then resignation crossed her beautiful features in the instant before she hung her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Does She Love You? Page 10