“Do you mean that?”
Annabelle paused, giving the question its due. It was jolting and painful to see her again, but also a powerful reminder of how much had changed, a vision of how far she could go. Most of all, Davis served as a reminder that she wasn’t alone in all her emotions. “Yes. I really do.”
Davis smiled, a beautiful flash of genuine relief and pleasure. “Good. Me, too.”
*
Nic stared at a contract for her home—their home—in Athens. Her lawyer had handled everything by proxy. She simply had to sign and date it to finalize everything. The house was her last tie to Belle, and with its sale, everything they’d built together would be gone. Of course, she had a new place to live, but it still felt like signing the papers would make her homeless. As final as their emotional good-bye had felt, until this moment she and Belle were still a couple in the legal sense.
This was officially the end of them.
Well, signing the document was the end of her role anyway. She still had to mail the contract to Belle. She looked once again at Belle’s name printed next to her own, wondering if she’d ever see them together again. The addresses were an afterthought until she saw Atlanta under Belle’s name. She, blinked, read the address again and then a third time in disbelief. Nic knew Belle had vacated their house but assumed she’d gone to live with her family.
She tried to tamp down the hope rising in her, but could Belle’s choice of a new home really be a coincidence? The logical part of her brain said yes, millions of people lived in Atlanta for a million different reasons, but her heart said for Belle the city held only memories tied to Nic. Maybe she wasn’t so eager to cut ties after all. Even if she didn’t want her back as a lover, she’d need a friend, wouldn’t she? Someone to help her through the transition? Belle had always turned to her in difficult situations. Maybe she couldn’t help but do the same now. If that were even a little true, Nic still stood a chance. If nothing else, she owed it to both of them to check up on her—or at least, that’s what she told herself.
She was out the door and in her Lexus before she could process anything else. Belle was close, and Nic needed to see her. She thought fleetingly about the promises she’d made to Buddy Taylor, but she had no intention of holding Belle back. Her motives were pure. She wanted to help. She couldn’t stand the thought of Belle alone in some Midtown apartment lost and overwhelmed by her surroundings with no one to lean on. Nic only wanted to offer some stability, some familiarity, some comfort.
An image of Belle’s despair the last time they saw each other flashed in her mind, and she wondered if familiarity was exactly what Belle had fled back to in Athens. Nic slowed her car. She didn’t want to hurt Belle any more than she already had. More importantly, she didn’t want to face the pain she’d caused. She could take losing the promotion and her home, but the images of Belle’s torment still kept her awake at night. Maybe showing up unannounced wasn’t the best option.
In an unexpected show of conscience, or perhaps cowardice, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart, hoping Belle hadn’t switched cell carriers. Nic’s heart beat in her throat when the most soothing voice she’d ever known answered.
“Hi, Belle.” Nic hoped the emotion wasn’t evident in her voice.
“Nic?” Annabelle didn’t sound nearly as happy.
“Yes, it’s me. I, uh, I got the papers.”
“Papers?”
“For our house.” She paused. Nothing. “You know, the old one. The ones finalizing the sale.” Damn, she had to pull it together. She held her breath through another long silence.
“Is there a problem with them?”
“No, no everything looks good.” Except for the finality of it all.
“Okay…then—”
“It’s just…I’m in the neighborhood, and I wanted to know if I could have you sign them right now.”
“Now? You’re in…my neighborhood?”
“I had some business in Midtown—”
“How did you know I live—”
“The address is on the forms,” Nic said, swallowing through a tight throat. She hadn’t figured on Belle’s wariness.
“Oh.”
“I thought I might kill two birds with one stone, since I’m…since I’m here.” She hesitated, then, “I’ll understand if you can’t stand to see me,” she lied. “It’s just the contract is time-sensitive, and I thought we could get everything wrapped up faster if we cut out the courier. You know, so we can both move on.”
“Of course. This whole thing has taken longer than I expected anyway.”
The way Belle’s hesitation dissipated at the prospect of being free of their past almost made Nic turn around. But surely Belle wouldn’t dismiss their connection when she saw her in person. With the exception of the most horrendous twenty-four hours of her life, Belle had always melted for her. They needed each other.
By the time she pulled into Belle’s driveway, she’d almost talked herself into believing they were destined for a happy reunion. Unfortunately, her visions of grandeur were tempered when Belle met her on the stairs. “You don’t need to come up. I’ll just sign the papers here.”
She looked stunning, though dressed more casually than usual, in khakis and a turquoise top that deepened the blue in her eyes. Nic was momentarily overwhelmed by the desire to trace a line over the curve of her hip or brush against the softness of her lips. It was as if she’d lived the last months in black and white and only now saw life in color. Sadly, the color rising in Belle’s cheeks hinted at embarrassment or frustration, signaling she wasn’t enjoying this reunion as much as Nic was. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The papers.” Belle extended her hand.
Nic handed them over.
“Do you have a pen?”
Nic had one in her pocket, but everything was moving too fast. They hadn’t even made small talk. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want the moment to end before she’d had a chance to realize its full potential. “Sorry, I don’t have one on me.”
Belle glanced over her shoulder, then frowned. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m sorry if I implied I was in a rush. I can come in for a minute.”
Belle opened her mouth, then closed it before Nic realized she hadn’t been invited in. She felt like someone had hit her. “Or if you don’t want me in your new place—”
“No, it’s fine.” Belle covered quickly, but clearly only out of social responsibility. “You can come up, but I haven’t unpacked everything. It’s a bit of a mess.”
“You should see my place.”
Belle didn’t acknowledge the comment as she turned and went inside. She crossed straight to a school bag to find a pen. Nic took the chance to glance around the apartment. The space had an undeniably homey feel, or maybe any space with Belle in it felt like home. Still, it seemed impossibly small, less than half the size of Nic’s one-bedroom rental. Belle deserved better. She should live like a queen in a castle, and she had until Nic had destroyed everything.
“Won’t you need more room than this?”
Belle looked up as if the words jarred her. “Why? It’s just me.”
“I know.” Nic shook off the reminder that she didn’t belong here. “But what about when your sister and the kids come? Or your parents? Your mama can’t sleep on the couch, and there’s no place to put a table big enough for everyone.”
“This is all I can afford on my new salary.”
Salary, what salary? Nic thought she’d live off the money from the house.
“Plus I can walk to work,” Belle said.
“You…work around here?”
“I’m teaching again. This is the only place I could find a job after so many years off. I didn’t have a lot of options in schools or apartments.”
“I could’ve helped. I know people. I have money.”
“I don’t want your help, Nic. I can do this on my own.”
Nic felt her chances slipping away
and fought to keep from lashing out. Belle was giving her no in here. “You’re entitled to half of everything that’s mine. If I were a man, you’d get alimony, enough to buy a real place, not a rented room. I’ll have my lawyer write up the papers. I’ll have a portion of my paycheck put in your account.”
Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She could help Belle and stay connected to her. They’d have to stay in touch at least through other people, plus if part of her pay supported Belle, she’d have a reason to care about her job.
“Absolutely not,” Belle said with a finality that chilled Nic’s blood. “I don’t want your money. I never have. I got enough from the sale of the house to fill my savings, and I’m looking forward to living off my own wages for the first time in my life.”
What could she say to that? Belle didn’t seem happy, and she certainly wasn’t living the high life, but she didn’t appear to be floundering either. A job of her own, a place of her own. A life of her own. Belle’s budding sense of independence was somehow terrifying and sexy. “I admire you, Belle. Most women would make me pay through the nose, especially since I wouldn’t fight you.”
“I don’t want that.”
What do you want? Surely she had something to offer. “Okay, I’m sure you’ll do great here, but I’d be happy to show you around.” Nic’s hopes rose once again. “Maybe recommend some good restaurants. You’re close to the park, too. There’s a spot I love right down—”
“Thank you, but no,” Annabelle said, then turned quickly and signed the papers. “I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied, and I’m sure you do, too. With these papers out of the way, we’re both off on new adventures.”
Separate adventures. Annabelle had politely dismissed any opportunity for them to spend time together, no matter how well-meaning or innocent. Her chance to earn her way back into Belle’s good graces was evaporating. “Well…if you need anything…”
“Thank you, but this…my freedom…was the best thing you could’ve given me.” She handed the papers back to Nic. “It’s a relief to be out from under the constant reminders of what we left behind. Now I can move on.” She lifted her chin. “You should, too.”
Nic nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. Belle even handled a brush-off with her trademark grace and class.
She managed to mutter a good-bye and climb back into her car before letting any tears fall. On her way over she’d worried about facing Belle’s anguish. Turned out her indifference hurt just as badly, if not more. Belle had always needed her. How could need just disappear, unless maybe it hadn’t ever really been there to begin with. Maybe she’d been the one who’d needed Belle all along.
She couldn’t go on with this emptiness inside her. As she drove around the block, she glanced at Davis’s apartment building. She wouldn’t even let her mind go there, but not for lack of desire. If she couldn’t get through to Annabelle, she stood no chance with Davis. She couldn’t go back, and she had no idea how to go forward alone. Maybe she needed to stay put for a while.
Chapter Fourteen
Annabelle sat up in bed and immediately slipped her pillow sideways so Nic could curl around it instead of her. The move was purely psychological, like an amputee scratching a phantom limb, and every time she did it, grief flooded her. She hated the daily reminder of how much she’d lost, and every night she swore the next day would be different. But each morning, she woke herself by reaching for a woman who wasn’t there. She tried to remember that even when Nic had been in her life she wasn’t always in her bed, and while she’d spent those mornings counting down to her return, Nic had been spending them with someone else. She glanced across her backyard fence to a window two buildings down, another disturbing habit she couldn’t shake.
She didn’t want to feel like some obsessed stalker, and mostly she didn’t. Throughout the day she stayed busy and kept her mind on her to-do list, but the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, when the loneliness of her empty bed and empty heart crept from the shadows into the forefront of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder about Davis. Did she stare at the ceiling and wonder where she’d gone wrong? Had she managed to sustain her anger at Nic? Or did she long to hold her, blissfully oblivious one more time? Had she moved on? Her lights weren’t on now. Was she sleeping peacefully? Sleeping alone? Cassandra was a beautiful woman, and she seemed more than a little protective of Davis.
Belle threw back the covers and put her feet on the cool wood floors, soaking up the physical, the solid, the tangible. She’d spent the last two weeks wondering about her realtor and her ex-wife’s mistress. It felt strange to think of them that way, but that’s all they really were to her. She didn’t know either of them. There was no logical reason why their relationship status should consume her thoughts, yet it did. She wavered several times a day between hoping Davis had moved on, because it would give her hope for life after Nic, and praying she hadn’t, because if someone else out there felt like she did—someone who could understand the pain and brokenness she couldn’t pull herself out of—maybe she wouldn’t feel quite so alone all the time.
She dressed quickly and mentally chastised herself for being so melodramatic. Lots of people had failed relationships. Her own sister had been cheated on, had grieved, and had moved on. Why couldn’t she gauge her progress by Liz’s standards? Simply because she hadn’t lost Nic? That made no sense, but deep down in her heart she worried it was true. It had taken every ounce of energy she’d had not to fall apart after seeing Nic a week earlier. Even knowing much of what she’d believed about Nic had been a lie, she still feared Nic was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman. The only other person in the world who could confirm or disprove that theory lived in her line of sight. How could Annabelle not be curious?
She pulled on the clothes she’d laid out after her shower last night and bypassed her coffeemaker. The thought of making a single cup of coffee was too depressing, so she’d get some at school. She grabbed her lunchbox from the refrigerator and a granola bar she’d set out the night before. She’d perfected her morning routine after just a short time. In the evenings, she prepared for the next day to keep herself busy until she crashed, and then she was ready to go so quickly each morning she didn’t have time to be alone with her thoughts. She was out the door in half an hour, even though the short walk to her school would put her at work an hour earlier than she needed to be.
She entered the Midtown Children’s Academy and turned down the hall to her classroom, but before she could open the door, someone called to her from the office area.
“Good morning, Annabelle.” Her principal, Ailene Werner, was the only person who ever seemed to arrive before seven. “Can you come in here for a second?”
“Sure.” She rounded the corner and was greeted with a warm smile. “How are you?”
“I’m well. How are you settling into the school year?”
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” she said truthfully. While her concerns about getting back into teaching weren’t totally unfounded, she enjoyed the challenge of updating lesson plans and learning a new curriculum. Each day her students served as a breath of fresh air in her otherwise oppressive existence. She couldn’t feel lonely or morose in a room with sixteen first-graders who saw the world through wide, excited eyes. “I love the kids.”
“And they love you. Jeffery Moore is smitten with you.”
She smiled, thinking of the little cutie who followed her around like a puppy. “He’s a doll. I just want to snuggle the stuffing out of him.”
“I’m glad the feeling is mutual.” Ailene laughed. “And I’m glad to hear you’re happy.”
Happy? She didn’t have it in her to think about the last time she felt truly happy. That had been a lie. What she felt now wasn’t even close to genuine happiness, but at least it was real. “Did you need help with something?”
Ailene raised her eyebrows at the sudden shift, but she’d never pried into Annabelle’s personal life, and she
apparently wouldn’t start now. “Actually, yes. We’re doing new promotional materials for the school, and I’ve got a meeting with a graphic designer this morning. I’d like your opinion on the early drafts she sent me.”
Annabelle leaned over Ailene’s shoulder and scanned a PDF document on her screen. She immediately noticed the school colors, navy and maroon, had been offset with light print, brightening up a potentially dark palette. The school’s academic credentials were bulleted for an official feel, while quotes from students were scattered throughout in a font resembling a child’s handwriting. “The designer did an impressive job of balancing the official with the playful. I think that’s one of the key elements we strive for in our classrooms.”
“I agree. I love the feel, and she worked in everything I asked her to, but something’s still missing,” Ailene said.
“The kids.”
“What?”
“You’ve got pictures of state-of-the-art classrooms, but there are no children in them,” Annabelle explained.
Ailene studied the screen, then sat back. “You’re right. I thought showcasing the updates we made last year would be appealing, but progress feels empty until you share it with someone.”
Annabelle grimaced at the parallel to her own life, but Ailene continued. “We’re not a school in theory. We’re a school that practices for the sake of our students. We need to showcase them.”
“Excellent.” Annabelle straightened up and moved toward the door. “Glad I could help.”
“Me, too. Here comes our designer now. Maybe she could get some pictures of your class as they arrive this morning.”
“I don’t know if I’m the right person for that.”
“Let’s ask her.” Ailene rose and went to unlock the front door while Annabelle waited in the office. She didn’t want to see anyone right now, much less be photographed. The comment about empty progress stung, and if she let herself dwell on it, she could easily slip into the depression that always hovered on the edge of her consciousness. She had to get out of her head and into her class. If she could lose herself in her work, in her students, she wouldn’t have time to think about anything else.
Does She Love You? Page 19