"Have you told him how you feel?"
"No."
"Then how can you be so sure?"
Would the pain ever become easier to bear? "Because he told me so."
The look of sadness in Josephine's eyes made her own mist over. "I'm sorry, child."
"Me, too."
After the older woman left, Haven dug out that morning's newspaper. When she turned to page four, she got the shock of her life.
* * *
"This is beyond pitiful," Pete said.
Brady looked up from the mountain of forms he'd spread across the kitchen table. He hadn't realized that setting up his foundation would entail so much paperwork, although he welcomed the distraction it offered. Lately, he welcomed anything that took his mind off his misery.
"I know there's a lot to fill out, but if we put our heads together, we'll manage."
Pete shook his head. "I wasn't talking about the paperwork. I was talking about you. You fill in a line, then you chew on your pen and gaze longingly out the window for a minute or two. Then you fill in another line, and start the whole process all over again. You're driving me nuts."
Brady hadn't realized his preoccupation was so obvious. Hard as he tried, and over the past week he'd tried harder than he'd ever tried anything, he couldn't stop the memories. Memories of Haven. Memories of shared laughter. Memories of a passion so deep, he'd thought it might consume him. Memories of a brief moment in time when he hadn't been alone. The last week had felt longer than his three years, seven months and seven days of imprisonment.
Each time he'd gone to pick Anna up and Haven had greeted him at the door, it had taken all his willpower not to haul her into his arms. His need to hold her was a physical ache.
Nothing had changed, he told himself, although for a time he'd tried to pretend it had. Life was the way it had always been. He didn't have anybody, or anything, to call his own. He was alone. It was better that way.
"If I've seemed … distracted," he said, "it's because this paperwork is overwhelming."
Pete snorted in derision. "Paperwork, schmaperwork. This is me you're talking to, remember? And I don't buy a word of it."
"What is it you want me to say?" Brady asked carefully.
"For starters, you could begin with why we're sitting here in this ratty apartment."
He hadn't told Pete about the demise of his marriage. There was no reason, really, except he'd been hoping to avoid the subject as long as possible. Until, at least, the pain of thinking about Haven wasn't as sharp as a butcher's knife.
It was on the tip of his tongue to lie, to say they were using this apartment because they could spread their papers out and leave them there, undisturbed, until they were finished. But before he could utter the first word, he changed his mind. He couldn't evade the truth forever. Besides, Pete already suspected something was wrong. Now was as good a time as any to tell him what had happened. He might as well get it over with.
"We're sitting here in this ratty apartment because this is where I live. Haven and I have separated."
Pete looked stunned. "When?"
A lifetime ago. "A week ago."
"I … don't know what to say. This is rather sudden, isn't it?"
"Not really. It was inevitable from the start."
Pete frowned, his brows knitting together. "I don't understand."
"It's a long story."
"I've got all afternoon."
It took Brady less than ten minutes to outline the whole sorry tale from beginning to end. He worded it in such a way that the breakup of their marriage was the natural outcome of discovering that he wasn't Anna's father, coupled with his paying off the Zieglars, thus ensuring the little girl's safety. That way, he didn't have to admit his love for Haven. Or her rejection of that love. He could salvage that much of his pride, at least.
"What a hell of a mess," Pete said.
Brady knew his friend wasn't talking about the papers spread out before them. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Tell me about it."
"Whatever made you two cook up such an idiotic scheme?"
Brady heaved a heavy sigh. "We did it for Anna."
"Guess you never expected it to blow up in your face, huh?"
"I suppose neither one of us was thinking too clearly at the time."
Pete peered at him closely. "So, it was all an act?"
"All of it."
"All of it?"
Brady thought of the kisses he and Haven had shared, of their lovemaking. The passion between them had been real, at least. "Most of it," he conceded.
"You love her, don't you?"
So much for his pride. "It's that obvious?"
"Only because I remember a certain conversation where you asked me how to go about courting her."
Brady nodded. "I'd forgotten."
"What I don't understand is, if you love her, why did you leave? Why aren't you at home, courting her, the way you planned?"
Too restless to sit still any longer, Brady pushed back his chair and walked to the open window. Six stories below, a group of preschoolers drew chalk pictures on the sidewalk while their mothers stood off to one side, chatting. A street cleaner made its slow way down the block, the swish of its brushes mingling with the excited cries of the children. It was just an ordinary day. An ordinary day without Haven in his life. Damn, it hurt.
"Could you stay with Eileen, knowing she doesn't love you back?" he asked.
Pete's reply was swift. "I'd rather go into the ring against a lion that hasn't eaten in a month."
"Then you know why I'm here."
"What about the kiss at your wedding?"
Brady turned to regard his friend. "What about it?"
"That was no act. It was the steamiest thing I've seen this side of a movie screen. And it wasn't one-sided."
After all that had happened to him, it amazed Brady that Pete could still be such a romantic at heart. "I won't deny there's a spark between us. But it's not enough to sustain a marriage."
"Have you told her how you feel?"
He'd wanted to; had planned on doing just that when he returned home from his trip to New York. And then he'd gone to see her parents. Even after that, when he knew she didn't love him, if she'd given him some sign there was a chance his love might be returned in the future, he still would have bared his soul to her.
His thoughts returned to that night. For just a minute, when he'd stood on her stairs, bags packed, he'd thought, hoped, prayed, she would ask him to stay. But she hadn't. On the contrary, she hadn't been able to get him out of her home—and her life—fast enough.
At this point, the only thing baring his soul to Haven would accomplish would be to make her feel sorry for him. And that, he couldn't abide. He had to face reality. And his reality was that his future did not include Haven Adams.
He returned to the table, pulled a form in front of him and picked up his pen. "There's no point. Haven has made it more than clear how she feels about me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to work."
* * *
Promptly at seven, the time Brady always picked up Anna, the doorbell rang. Haven's heart jolted at first sight of him, so big and strong and handsome in a pair of black jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.
"Is Anna ready?" His gaze was centered at a point over her right shoulder, his voice distant, carefully polite.
It hurt to have him treat her like a stranger. She hoped the news she had to relate would at least make him look at her like a person again, instead of someone whose presence he had to tolerate in order to see Anna.
"She's watching the end of Sesame Street. Would you mind stepping into the living room for a minute? There's something I'd like to discuss with you. It's important."
He looked at her then, and she saw the worry that flashed in his eyes. "Is something wrong? Is Anna okay?"
"Anna's fine," she reassured him. "Please, Brady, come in."
When they reached the living room, she indicated he should take a seat
on the sofa Smoothing her skirt down the back of her legs, she sat a safe distance away at the opposite end.
"What is it you wanted to discuss?" he asked.
She drew a deep breath. "Syd told me what you did for Anna. I … I can't thank you enough."
"You're welcome. Was there anything else?"
He wasn't making this easy for her. "Yes."
She reached over to the coffee table and picked up the article she'd clipped from the newspaper. "I wanted to show you this."
He raised his eyebrows. "A newspaper article?"
"Just read it."
"'Lab errors investigated,'" he read aloud. After a glance her way, he lapsed into silence.
"It's the lab we used to do the DNA testing," she explained while he continued reading. "Looks like one of their technicians got sloppy and made a lot of mistakes." She paused. "I called. The technician in question did your test."
When he finished the article, Brady didn't say a word. Throat working, he stared off into space.
"You know what this means, don't you?" she said. "It means Melinda might not have been mistaken after all. It means there's still a chance you're Anna's father."
Brady exploded off the sofa. Balling the article between his palms, he threw it across the room with a violence that shocked her. He rounded on her, eyes blazing.
"Is there no end to your self-sacrifice?" he shouted.
She hadn't been sure how he'd react when he heard the news. While cautious optimism, even disbelief, had seemed possible, she'd never expected the fury she saw blazing in his eyes.
Standing, she faced him. "What's the matter, Brady? What did I do?"
He threw out an arm. "What did you do? You took in your dying friend and quit your job to nurse her during her last days. You took her place as mother to her child. You married a man you didn't love to keep that child safe. Then, even though you might be giving me all the ammunition I need to take Anna away from you, you showed me that article. That's what you did, Haven."
"You wouldn't take Anna from me," she said quietly, while she tried to figure out what was going on. Why was he so angry?
"Wouldn't I? Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do." The look he aimed at her was full of scorn. "So, tell me. Is there no end to the things you'll do for Anna?"
Haven was growing angry herself. "You act like it's a crime," she said stiffly.
"It is, if you sacrifice any semblance of a life to do so. You're not awarded sainthood until after you're dead, Haven. What good does it do you then?"
She balled her hands into fists at her sides. Tears of anger and frustration burned behind her eyes. "I'm not bucking for sainthood," she said through clenched teeth.
He rolled his eyes. "Really? Tell me, when's the last time you did something that was just for you? And I don't want to hear about the bubble bath you took last week."
Mutinously, she stared at him in silence.
"You can't remember, can you?" he taunted.
"I thought you'd be happy about this," she burst out.
"Well, I'm not."
"Why not?"
He turned his back to her, and his shoulders slumped as all the fight seemed to go out of him. "There's a limit to what a man can take, Haven," he said in a low voice. "I've just about reached mine."
She had no idea what he was talking about. "I don't understand."
"That's the problem," he said wearily. "You've never understood."
When he turned to her again, his face was impassive, his emotions under control. He drew an audible breath. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. My only excuse is that this has been a difficult time for me."
She nodded her acceptance of his apology. "It's been difficult for all of us. So, are you going to have the test redone?"
His answer was immediate. "No."
Once again, he'd thrown her a curve. "No?"
"No," he confirmed.
She didn't bother to hide her confusion. "But … why? Don't you want to know the truth?"
"What would be the point? Whether or not Anna is my biological daughter doesn't matter. She's the daughter of my heart, Haven, I don't need any test to confirm that for me."
If he felt that way, Haven wondered, why had he been so upset when he'd discovered she'd lied about being able to bear children? An impossible answer formed in her brain. Her heart swelled as hope bloomed. Could she have been wrong all along? Could it be possible that Brady did have feelings for her?
She'd thought her love for him had been more than apparent. But had it? Yes, she'd responded with everything in her heart whenever he'd taken her into his arms. But even then, he'd always made the first move. She'd never done the reaching. Maybe it was time for her to do some reaching. Maybe it was time to stretch out her neck and take a risk. The way Brady had all his life.
She'd never demanded that her parents love her. Instead, she'd sat back, waiting and hoping they'd notice she was alive. Was she going to make that a lifelong pattern?
Josephine was right. Brady had a lot of love in him to give. It was time for her to demand her share.
She looked at him, and her courage faltered. What if she was wrong? What if he didn't love her, and she was about to make herself look like the biggest fool of all time?
So what? her inner voice niggled. So you make a fool of yourself. Big deal. Will you be any worse off than you are now? At least you'll know.
For too many years, she'd played by the rules and patiently waited like a good little girl for everything she deserved to be handed to her. And what had it gotten her? Nothing but loneliness.
It was time to listen to her heart, time to follow it where it led. Time to take a risk. Cowardice was not an option.
"You asked me the last time I did something that was solely for me," she said softly. "Since I married you, every time I've touched you, kissed you, made love to you was for me. Just for me, Brady."
He went still. She tried to read the expression on his face, but it was as blank as ever. Determined to see this thing through to the bitter end, she forged ahead.
"In case you haven't already guessed, I'm in love with you. And I'm hoping—" She bit her lip. "I'm hoping there might be a chance you could love me a little, too."
For endless seconds, he just stood there. Haven's heart quailed. She'd been wrong after all.
"I'm sorry," she muttered, taming away. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."
In a movement as unexpected as it was swift, Brady closed the distance separating them. The next instant his arms—his big, strong, wonderful arms—were around her. Miraculously, he held her as if he'd never let her go.
"Tell me I'm not dreaming," he said thickly into her hair.
"You're not dreaming," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and tilting her head back to gaze adoringly at him
"I'm warning you now," he said. "I'm not letting you go ever again."
Her heart felt as if it would burst with happiness. "Don't worry. I don't plan on moving out of your arms for the next seventy years or so."
"That's not going to be nearly long enough." He settled his mouth on hers with a passion that took her breath away. When he raised his head a few minutes later, his eyes were warmer than a summer day. "I love you, Haven."
How precious those three little words sounded. She wondered if she would ever tire of hearing them.
"Say it again," she commanded.
"I love you, Haven Adams Ross. More than life itself."
The question would not be denied. "If you love me, why did you leave?"
He squeezed his eyes shut. "It damn near killed me. But when you didn't tell me about the aftermath of your accident, I was convinced it was because you didn't love me. I couldn't stay around then. It hurt too much."
She knew the feeling. Intimately. "I thought it was because I couldn't give you children. Especially after you found out Anna wasn't your daughter. That's why I didn't tell you when I should have. I was afraid of how you'd react."
>
His eyes filled with gentle reproach. "I'm an adoptee, remember? I'm not one of those people who get hung up on biology. We'll have our children, Haven. We'll adopt them. Older kids, who need us as much as we need them."
The tears spilled over then, and she buried her head in his chest.
Cupping her face between his hands, Brady kissed the tears from her cheeks. When he settled his mouth on hers, he kissed them out of her heart forever.
"Unca Bwady," Anna said from the doorway. "You're kissin' Binny."
Brady lifted his mouth from Haven's and smiled at the little girl. "I sure am, squirt."
Anna raced across the room and pulled on Brady's pant leg. "Kiss me, too," she demanded.
Laughing, Brady dropped his arms from around Haven to sweep the child up into the air. "I'd be honored." He placed a kiss on her forehead.
Anna shook her head forcefully. "No, not that way. Kiss me wike you kiss Binny."
Brady shot Haven a look of amusement. "Sorry, squirt. Only married people get to kiss like that."
Anna's eyes went round. "Are you and Binny mawwied again?"
"We sure are."
"You're comin' home?"
As he reached out an arm to include Haven in his embrace, the loving light in his eyes told her that her lonely days were gone.
"You bet I am," he said. "And I'm not leaving ever again."
* * * * *
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