Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)

by Jamie Beck

  “Thanks, honey.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea. “Want a drink?”

  “No.” She noticed him perspiring a bit. Knowing how Mark often ignored his malady, she had no faith when it came to men and doctors. “Dad, how are you feeling? Lately you’ve been tired and achy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You were huffing earlier, and now you’re sweating despite the air conditioning.”

  “Stop worrying about your old man. I’ve got a wife on my back. I don’t need you climbing up there, too.”

  “Why do men always think they’re invincible?”

  “I can take care of myself. You go enjoy Alec. I’m happy to see you finally moving on. This is a good step, honey.” He kissed the top of her head and released her.

  “Thanks.” She glanced at the clock above the oven and realized it wasn’t too late. “See you later.”

  Shortly thereafter, she pulled up to Alec’s apartment, hoping he wouldn’t mind a surprise visit. Colby’s entire being was wound to the point of splitting apart thanks to her argument with Gentry. Her sister had been right about one thing: Colby did prefer to avoid conflict. But ever since life with Mark had beaten her down, she couldn’t quite regulate her emotions.

  Now she hoped Alec’s headache was gone, so his perfect kiss and nimble fingers would make her feel better. When he opened the door, she practically leaped on him.

  “What happened?” he managed between her kisses.

  “Later,” she murmured.

  She wanted to feel him moving over, under, and inside her body. To have his gaze bore into hers with the heat and intensity he’d shown last night.

  Somehow they stumbled through the apartment to his room, where they made short work of their clothing and fell onto his bed. A feverish lust spread through her body as she explored the defined muscles of his abdomen and chest. Felt the gruff hair on his legs and arms brush against her skin. Welcomed his hot mouth on her neck, breasts, and stomach. Unlike last night, this was adrenaline-fueled, white-hot sex.

  Minutes bled together, fused by warm, wet kisses. By panting breath, fingernail scratches, leave-nothing-on-the-table lovemaking.

  Afterward, they lay together in his bed, quietly caressing each other as their breathing settled. It still surprised her to find herself in the afterglow of making love with Alec. He had a smattering of freckles on his shoulder, and a tiny indent at the tip of his nose. All these things to explore that she’d never quite noticed before. How had she missed seeing what had been right in front of her for so long?

  The photograph she’d given him stared at her from the nightstand. “You keep that in here?”

  “Yes.” He tightened his hold on her. “I see you before I fall asleep and as soon as I wake up.”

  “Suck-up,” she teased, kissing him. The lone photo did little to make his generic apartment a home. Clearly she had work to do. “What happened to all those photos of your puzzles that you used to tack on your wall at your mom’s house?”

  “They’re in a box in the closet.”

  More evidence that he was that same sweet guy she knew before. “Do you still take one every time you finish a new one?”

  A touch of crimson colored his cheeks. “Yes.”

  “I bet you could wallpaper this whole room with them.” She brushed his cowlick aside. “Fess up, how many?”

  Without hesitation, he said, “One thousand four hundred and ninety-eight.”

  She laughed, unable to imagine it. “When do you find the time?”

  “Most were done in middle and high school, and then right after I closed Une Bouchée.” He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. “Puzzles help me unwind. When I focus on one thing, problems fade away.”

  “Like meditation.”

  “I suppose.” He settled one arm behind his head. “Speaking of which, you seem more relaxed now. What revved you up earlier?”

  “Gentry accused me of being a pushover, so I laid into her.” She felt him wince before she saw it. “What?”

  “You laid into her?” His gaze turned distant, as if he might be thinking of Joe. That, coupled with his disappointed tone, soured her stomach.

  “Yes. To defend myself,” she countered.

  He kissed her temple, softly saying, “You used to stand up for yourself without insulting people and storming off.”

  She couldn’t escape his reference to the way she’d chewed him out and run off when they’d argued about the menu and his management style. Apparently, her capacity for compassion had been buried under the weight of Mark’s death and the impotence she’d had in her marriage. She frowned, wishing she could hide from Alec’s observation.

  “Hey, look at me.” He tipped up her chin. “I’m not saying you can’t argue. Just remember combat isn’t your only option. That said, you never have to hide or hold back with me.”

  Her eyes stung a little, although she blinked back tears before he saw them. He’d never understand how deeply those words affected her after years isolated from everything and everyone but Mark. Maybe she hadn’t yet struck the right balance, but with Alec’s help, she would. Once she was certain her voice wouldn’t waver, she teased, “Careful what you ask for.”

  He rolled her onto her back and pinned her to the bed with the luxurious weight and heat of his body. He grinned in the way only Alec could—a glint of humor in an otherwise sober face, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I’ll make sure you only have glowing things to say to and about me.”

  No relationship would ever be a fairy tale, but right now he was very much her hero. “I forgot to tell you, my father totally supports a workplace romance. In fact, he thinks we can be just like Jenna and him.”

  “Determined to achieve as much as they have?”

  “Maybe. And while we’re on that topic, I’ve been thinking about the menu.” She winced when his arms tensed. “I know you need creative control, but I still think we can add one or two basic items.”

  “Why bastardize the menu?” He stared at the headboard and breathed slowly rather than look at her.

  “Because not everyone’s a foodie. If we expand the menu, we could capture groups that otherwise wouldn’t come because one or two people don’t like fussy food.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my food, Colby.” He rolled off her body, propping himself up on his elbow. She immediately missed his warmth. “My ‘fussy’ food wins awards.”

  “I know that’s important to you, but not everyone likes haute cuisine.” She stroked his cheek. “Do this and I promise: no happy hours.”

  She could tell he was holding back but decided not to push.

  “Let’s table this for another time.” He trailed his finger down her arm. “I can’t make career decisions when you’re naked.”

  “Well, perhaps you’re not so single-minded that you can’t make time for things like this, after all.” Her thoughts hovered around the vision of an imaginary young family, but then retreated. Way too soon. She turned on her side and traced her fingertips over his shoulder and along his chest, her insides tightening with a rising need.

  “There’s always time for this.” He kissed her again, this time a little roughly. When he flattened her with his weight again, his erection, hot and hard, rubbed against her thigh.

  He nuzzled her neck, and then his tongue trailed down to her breast.

  “Alec,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair, urging him on.

  Then the doorbell rang, stilling them both.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “They’ll go away.”

  He kissed her again, but then the knocking began. “Alec, are you in there?”

  He popped up, his face now stricken. “It’s my mom.”

  Colby reached out to him. “Alec, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Without another word, he bolted out of bed, pulled on his sweats, and left the room.

  Colby slid out fro
m under the covers. Lifting her discarded dress off the floor, she wondered whether she should stay hidden or join the conversation. His mother’s voice carried through the open bedroom door.

  “Let’s go get his car from the bar before he wakes up,” she said.

  “How’d he get home?” Alec asked.

  “Craig drove him in his car and carried him into the house.” His mother’s sad tone seeped into Colby’s chest, where it turned to ice.

  “He’s that drunk?” A blend of disgust and worry rang out.

  “Passed out. Now, please, let’s hurry.”

  Colby heard Mrs. Morgan’s light footsteps on the tile entry, but then Alec said, “Mom, wait. I’m not alone.”

  Colby’s pulse skipped. Did he want her to come out of his room? What would she say to Mrs. Morgan when it seemed a fair bet she was the reason Mr. Morgan got so drunk?

  “Oh?” Following a brief pause, his mom said, “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to without embarrassing your father.”

  “It’s okay. Just give me a minute.”

  Alec whitewashing his dad’s reaction to their relationship painted an unwanted similarity between Mark’s and his ability to lead a double life. Worse, a tug-of-war between her and his family might distract him from his professional goals, like Joe’s death had done before. Could Alec be happy without more awards, or would he become depressed by the failure to recapture that glory? How would that disappointment affect them?

  When Alec came into the room, she remained seated on his bed, rattled by her thoughts.

  He grabbed a shirt and some shoes. “I assume you heard?”

  She nodded. “I wish you would’ve told me how your dad reacted earlier.”

  “You pretty much guessed it, anyway.” He shrugged, as if his sugarcoating conflict wasn’t a problem. “Do you want to wait here?”

  “Your mom needs you now.” Colby couldn’t help him with this family problem tonight, nor was it the time to discuss it. Instead, she’d focus on their mutual goals for A CertainTea and the memorial fund, with a few hours of research and planning. “I don’t want you to feel rushed, so I’ll go home.”

  He hung his head. “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry we got interrupted.” When she hugged him, his rigidity proved a level of tension he was trying to brush off.

  “Me, too.” He clasped her hand and tugged her out of the room. Summoning her courage, she followed him, hand in hand, to see his mother.

  “Hi, Mrs. Morgan.” Colby reached for her purse, which she’d dropped by the front door earlier.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Colby.” The woman pressed her hand to her heated cheek.

  “It’s fine. Really. I have a list of things to research tonight for the fund.” That and the criteria for James Beard Awards.

  When Mrs. Morgan’s gaze skittered away, Colby regretted mentioning the fund. Itching to leave, she gave Alec a quick kiss. “Call me later.”

  On her way past Mrs. Morgan, she touched her arm. She wanted to apologize for Mark, for Joe, for being an ongoing source of irritation, and for selfishly taking up with Alec while knowing all the above. In the end, she merely said “I’m sorry” before rushing out the door.

  Alec watched Colby retreat, knowing this incident did nothing to strengthen their relationship. Even passed out, his father managed to chip away at Alec’s happiness.

  He went into the kitchen to grab a box of coconut water and some blueberries. When his mother questioned him, he grumbled, “For his hangover.”

  She flinched, then held out the car keys. “I am sorry I interrupted your night.”

  The last thing he wanted was to make his mother feel worse than she already did. He needed to be the son she deserved.

  “Always come to me.” He hugged her before taking his father’s keys. “Let’s go get Dad’s car.”

  Twenty minutes later, Alec pulled his father’s car into his parents’ driveway. Inside the house, they discovered him still asleep on the sofa. His neck was bent at an awkward angle against one arm of the couch, and his legs dangled over the other. Alec mustered little compassion for him—certainly not enough to move him to a bed. The man deserved to pay some price for his obnoxious behavior.

  “Go home, honey.” His mom set her purse down. “You look tired.”

  “I’ll wait until he wakes up.”

  “It’s not necessary. He’ll be groggy and disoriented, not aggressive.” She sighed. “I know you worry that he’ll hurt me, but he won’t. He never hurts me.”

  “There’s always a first time.” If his father ever laid a hand on his mom, he’d finally learn that Alec was not a wimp.

  Defeated, she scrubbed her hands over her face and followed Alec into the kitchen. He emptied the coconut water, blueberries, and ice into a blender, then grabbed a banana and whipped up a smoothie, secretly hoping the blender whir would wake his dad. It didn’t, so he covered the drink and stuck it in the refrigerator while his mother retrieved a box of chamomile tea.

  “Want a cup?”

  “No, thanks.” He took the box and nudged her toward a kitchen chair. “I’ll fix it for you.”

  She sat in silence, trapped in her own thoughts, staring into space. The woman had already lost one son and now confronted a crumbling marriage. Both events could be traced, one way or another, back to Alec, which sucked the fight out of him.

  “Do you want me to give up Colby to pacify Dad?” he finally asked, giving voice to the concern that had been running through his mind for the past forty-five minutes.

  “I wouldn’t ask that. I want you to be happy.”

  “Thanks, but we both know Dad expects it. Things here are bad enough without me making things worse for you.”

  She didn’t respond because she didn’t like to lie.

  He added sugar and cream to her tea, wishing it were that easy to make her life as sweet and mellow. He set the cup down and, sitting across from her, drummed his fingers on the table. “What can I do to make that man happy?”

  With a blank stare fixed on her face, she shook her head. “No one can make him happy. He has to find his own way there.”

  “I think seeing me makes having lost Joe worse for him.” Accepting that stark truth was no easy thing. The too-tender scars of rejection ran deep, no matter how tough Alec talked. “It might be easier on him if I stayed away.”

  “Don’t leave me, Alec. Having you around is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.” A weak smile contradicted her watery eyes. “Everyone said that time would heal us, but it isn’t working out that way.”

  “If the fund is going to cause more problems, I’ll take Joe out of it.”

  “No. The fund is a lovely idea. Mark and Joe were good friends. If you can gather their friends and others together to help people in crisis, then that’s the right thing to do. I don’t want our family dysfunction to keep either of us from doing what’s right. In fact, maybe I can help plan the fund-raiser. I used to be good at that back when you boys were younger.”

  Alec smiled, remembering how involved she’d been in every organization, from the school, to Boy Scouts, to the Portland Art Museum. “You like putting the squeeze on donors, don’t you?”

  That earned him a genuine smile, erasing ten years from her face. “My year as Parent-Teacher Council president raised more funds than in any year prior.”

  Alec enjoyed that childhood memory. Her committee had raised enough money to stock the school computer lab with new Apple computers. He still remembered the pride he’d felt when other kids were dazzled by the extravagant equipment.

  “Can you work with Colby?” His workdays were so long, he wouldn’t be as available during the planning phase.

  “Yes.” She shoved her half-empty cup aside. “Colby loved Joe. Between him and Mark, she’s lost as much as we have. It’s time we all help each other heal.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Alec glanced toward the living room, where his father’s sn
oring tore through the room like a buzz saw. “How will Dad react to you helping us?”

  “I’ll handle him.”

  The steely resolve in her voice didn’t ease his concern. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “He may break things in this house, but after all the domestic-abuse calls he’s handled in his career, he’d never make himself the culprit.”

  An arrest would humiliate him in front of his brotherhood, Alec conceded. His dad clung to his reputation almost as tightly as he did to Joe’s memory. But would the threat of shame be enough to keep him from snapping under the pressure of unmitigated, raw grief?

  Snoring continued rumbling in the other room.

  “Sounds like he’s out for the night.” Alec stretched to fend off exhaustion. He’d barely slept in the past twenty-four hours. All he really wanted now was Colby, but she’d gone home.

  A thirty-minute drive.

  Decision made, he stood. “Add more ice to the smoothie when he wakes up, and make him drink it. Coconut water has lots of electrolytes.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you, you know.” She clasped his hand. “Most sons in your shoes would’ve written him off by now.”

  Her proud smile made him cringe. His dad was far from perfect, but so was he. His mom didn’t need to know about Joe and Beth as long as, eventually, his good deeds made up for his lies.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Colby answered the door wearing pink cotton pajamas with white piping. Not sexy by most standards, but Alec was so grateful for a peek at the intimate details of her life that her pajamas turned him on. “Did you text?”

  “My phone’s at home.” He held up his hands when she frowned. “In my defense, I ran out of my house in a hurry. Then I just wanted to get to you. Is it okay that I showed up uninvited?”

  “Of course.” She kissed him once he entered her condo. “How’s your dad?”

  “Sleeping it off, as far as I know.”

  Her brows pinched together. “If this project will cause more conflict for your family, maybe we should hold off.”