She dipped her chin and peered at him through upturned eyes. “We all know Max has brilliant ideas, but his ability to implement or manage them…”
“I know.” He huffed out a laugh. At least she’d taken his story in stride. “In those early days, I was the one who managed most things, and Max was in charge of creative input. But Tiluma grew too fast, and I couldn’t be Max’s dedicated minder anymore.”
“But why position him in such an ill-fitting role?” She slid a piece of teriyaki chicken into her mouth. Soon enough, her forehead smoothed out, as though a lightbulb flicked on in her mind. “You felt guilty about his accident and wanted him to hold a key role in the company that you created together.”
He nodded, muscles weak under the unexpected comfort of this exchange. “Yeah. Guilt. Regret. Everything in between. I couldn’t give him a small role, not when I’d already snatched potential greatness from him once before. I needed to give him something to feel good about.”
She reached out and squeezed his hand, her gentle gaze sending a jolt of electricity between them.
His heart rushed its next few beats. Being the center of her attention never failed to get to him.
“You’re a great brother, Luke, and your love for Max has achieved the near impossible. You built a multi-million-dollar company, and you get to work together every day. Isn’t that enough? How much more do you think you owe him?”
He cleared his throat, her encouragement leaving his mind scrambling for something to say. “I don’t know, but as kind as your words are, they’re not completely true. I ruined his life.”
She gave a shrug and returned her attention to her meal. “You can’t know that for sure. Athletes get injured all the time.”
“Well, in that case…” He picked up his chopsticks, finally feeling relaxed enough to eat again. “I didn’t need to fast-track his retirement.”
She pointed her cutlery at him, eyelids flared in a way that seemed to say, Now see here, you! “No. You diverted his course. That’s all.”
He gave a laugh. “You and I know Tiluma isn’t where Max shines. He could have been a great swimmer, and I took that away from him.”
She leaned into the back of the leather bench behind her and released a sigh. “You give yourself too much credit, Luke. As much as Max and I clash, he’s got a good heart, and I know he’d never blame you for what happened. Besides, you’ve warded away his sorrows with a steady job, creative input, and a big, fat company share. He’s still young. You don’t know what sort of steppingstone Tiluma will be until he figures himself out and moves on to the next great thing.”
He sat quiet for a moment, pondering the softness in her words and the new perspective she offered.
Softness. He’d intrinsically known she possessed the quality, but only in the last few days did he glimpse it with any kind of regularity. The fact she finally had something nice to say about his brother meant perhaps her once-crippling mistrust had dissipated.
Maybe Luke could convince her to make room for him after all.
One thing was for sure, the night she’d run to him had changed everything.
“I have my future planned out.” Though voicing that statement felt right, it seemed to come from somewhere far outside of himself. And I want you to be part of my future. “I have a clear direction I want to go in. And Max deserves to have a similar purpose.”
She held up her hands in a resigned gesture and gave a tight laugh. “Trust me, plans are overrated, and they don’t always pan out. Perhaps Max is content with his ad hoc existence. I know I would be, if in his position.”
“I don’t believe that.” He pinned his attention on her, a silent command that she not look away. “Plans offer hope, Agathe. They make life worth living. That’s what Max deserves. That’s what everyone deserves.”
Especially you.
Her stare turned rigid, as did the skin around her eyes and the set of her jaw. She lowered her chopsticks at an overly careful glacial speed, her whole unaffected act evaporating. “And when plans don’t pan out, life becomes unbearable. No one deserves that.”
His heart rattled. Life had done a tragic number on this woman. And by association, it had also done a number on him too. Worse still, he had no idea how to pull her free. But he had to try.
“When plans don’t work out, you make new plans.” He held perfectly still, his unmoving stare designed to weaken her stonewalling.
“Fine.” She took a sharp inhalation and momentarily broke eye contact, seeming exasperated—aggravated—but too proud to admit either. “Since we’re on the subject of plans, what are yours? Get your bank account to a billion dollars and retire to the Caribbean?”
“No.” He picked at his food, veering his gaze to take the sting out of the standoff. He wouldn’t fall into her attempt to goad him. Old habits die hard, and right now, Agathe was looking for a fight.
He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to see her thrive. Wanted to see her happy. And he wanted to be the reason for it all. Lastly, he wanted to make her his. “Like I said, money merely makes life easier. I’ve done without it before, and money doesn’t take me away from who I am or what I want most.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her lips lifted, and a wicked glint overran her constricted eyes. “And what do you want most, an endless supply of crossbows and sweatpants?”
She wanted him to laugh. He didn’t so much as blink. In fact, her words came to him like a slap. His future with this woman hung in the balance, and from battlefield to boardroom, he’d honed a conviction that couldn’t be dented.
He didn’t want jokes. And when it came to the things he did want, he didn’t back down. So he wouldn’t back down with Agathe. Especially not now. Because what he wanted most was her.
He curled his hands on the tabletop and stared into her dark gaze. He’d make her see. He had to.
“I’ve lived in a nice house for years now, but it’s been a damn long time since I’ve lived in a home.” Her jaw slackened, like she saw where he was heading with this. Good. No amount of sidestepping could stop him now. She needed to hear what he had to say. “I want a wife. I want children. I want one woman. Someone I can share everything with. Every victory and every heartbreak. I want forever. And when I find that woman, I’m not letting her go. Not ever. And not for anything.”
And I’ve found her. That woman is you. I’m almost sure of it.
He peered down at his fingers, clawed into the table, before returning his attention to her; her complexion dulled, and shoulders rounded.
“I thought this was meant to be a casual date?”
He flinched. She was right. His statement did blast a big, fucking hole into the casual pretense of this date.
In the spirit of honesty, he’d made the mistake of bludgeoning her with his desire for commitment, marriage, and children. As if the story about his past hadn’t been enough. And even through his oversharing, even as his thoughts screamed at him to let this go, at least for now, he simply couldn’t take back what he’d said. His dreams meant far too much to him, and he needed her to know.
He watched as her pupils turned from wide, deep pools into laser-sharp pinpricks.
“You know what I want, Luke?” She lifted her frame into a poker-straight position. “I want you to take me home. I’m done here.”
24
Red, yellow, and green streetlights flicked past Agathe’s rain-splattered window, the multi-colored flashes adding to the aggravated shouts stuck on loop in her head. Damn Luke. Damn him and his big mouth.
She stared ahead, refusing to look at him, refusing to fall apart in his presence. At least, not again. He’d wielded his desires like some kind of weapon, as if he had a natural right to stoke any kind of fire in her. Well, screw him. He doesn’t. And so what if he wanted marriage and kids? She’d had both and wanted neither.
Why am I so angry?
The question startled her into looking at him, into forgetting she shouldn’t be looking at all. His attention stayed ah
ead, fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel, lips squeezed so tight they blanched.
He’d crossed a line, and he knew it. Her future with him had died the moment he’d mentioned the two things she totally didn’t want or need. And yet, his silence offered something different, a sign he either cared about her reaction a little too much, or perhaps not at all.
Her heart clenched at that thought, mostly because she couldn’t obscure the deeper understanding that he did, in fact, care. He cared a lot, and his affection alone chipped away at her.
Ending this relationship was inevitable. That end hurtled toward her way too fast, and if it didn’t, then she could just see herself caving to his dreams at the expense of her own. Even if her dreams only consisted of staying exactly as she was.
But back to the question. Why am I so angry?
Because she’d known from the beginning, he’d be a family kind of guy, and she’d been bloody stupid to tuck that detail away just for some momentary pleasure.
He was down to earth. Understanding. Nice.
A nice man who used to kill people. Don’t forget that.
Just like her, Luke wasn’t all he seemed. He was a contradiction. And this relationship was a hell of a lot more complicated than she’d bargained for.
Then again, maybe he was just further along when it came to healing from his past. Not that her past was something she could ever heal from…
Either way, she’d foolishly connected herself with him, demanded things he’d been reluctant to give. No-strings-attached sex, for a start. From day one, he’d had no place in her life. Whatever his damage, it surely wasn’t as ingrained as hers. She was too weak to take on the weight of what he truly wanted. Marriage. Children. Love. Argh!
And now the toll bells rang.
But tell me, why am I so angry?
Because there’d been a time when she’d had all that he wanted; she’d been happy, lucky, full of hope, and she’d lost everything.
And like a starving child crying outside a candy store window, his provocations now made her want once more. But wanting was unsafe. She lacked the strength and the heart. She couldn’t relive her past with a new family.
Why am I always so damn angry?
She was divorced, with a dead kid. That’s why. Did she need another goddamn reason?
She pulled her gaze from him and forced a sharp breath. He’d spoken of forever like it was something she could freely give, but she’d told him all about Elsie. He should have known. Forever didn’t exist. Not for her.
Tears prickled her eyes, and her throat clogged, so painfully constricted.
She had to get home. Had to get out of this stifling car.
“Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes, her heart straining against his question.
Even now, when she wanted to hate him with all that she had, he delivered more undeserved kindness.
She gave a shaky nod. “Yep.”
He made her wish she could be the woman he spoke of, when all she could be was this woman. The one who fell short. The one who fell apart. The one with tears streaming down her face.
She swiped at her cheek and removed any evidence of sadness, her chest burning because all she’d ever had was pretending.
Pretending she could do it all and that nothing hurt. Pretending she didn’t care that life would eventually leave her behind. She clung to that charade even now, even though this glimpse of him, of what she could never have, stung like all hell.
“Agathe?”
She flung her eyelids open and turned her head to find him staring at her. Her pulse spiked. He’d killed the engine, and a quick glimpse out her window revealed they’d arrived at her house.
“Let me walk you to your door.”
She closed her eyes again, this time at the warmth in his tone. She could do this. All she had to do was make it to her front step and utter one word.
She’d have to be honest with him, tell him they had no future. Chances were he already knew. But maybe, just one last time, she could pretend to be someone else; she could fake being whole.
Her hand made contact with the car’s door handle, and she used whatever speck of will she had left to reopen her eyes and get out. The evening cold blasted her face, permeating through her thin, black sweater, while the ground below glittered with recent rain.
She made it to her front door, and Luke joined her, for a while not speaking, though his gaze darted over her face with intense scrutiny. “You’re bothered by what I said at the restaurant.”
She shivered and hugged her arms around her ribcage, the miserable weather insignificant compared to the emotions swirling through her mind. “You’re welcome to have your own dreams.”
A frown dragged at his features, but his soft gaze washed over her. He nodded slowly, a sign he caught the barb in her statement. “You should go inside. You’re cold.”
He turned, swifter than expected, and before she could stop, her hand shot out and hooked around his elbow. “No.”
Her shaky tone compelled her to snap her mouth shut. The black leather of his sports jacket pressed cold against her fingers. She couldn’t let him go. Not before uttering what she’d meant to say all along. “Stay.”
He turned to face her, and for a long while, he merely looked, the repetitive drip of water from her tile roof proving a passive kind of torture to her ears.
Icy wind continued to lap her face, the needle-sharp sensation prodding her to speed this whole God-awkward thing along. “Stay. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because.” She sighed at his unreadable stare, and her heart dipped because, once more, she used his kind nature against him. Maybe because she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. Maybe because she wanted one final test to see if she couldn’t do this relationship thing that seemed to matter so much to him. “I need your help. I want you to touch me with all the gentleness you can muster.”
The muscles across his face eased, but his posture remained stiff. “This is a bad idea.”
“I know. But I can’t do this without you. I need to know if I can accept those acts of warmth you say I struggle with. Maybe you need to know too.”
“I opened my heart to you at the restaurant, and you’ve been acting strange ever since.”
“Please, bear with me.” A distinct heaviness, like a bucket of ball bearings, settled in her gut. She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t make any promises, either. “Just for tonight.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “At what point do we decide I’ve well and truly entered self-punishment territory?”
She bounced where she stood, warding off the cold, warding off every conflicted emotion pinging around within her. “I don’t have the answer to that, only that I would like a chance to try.”
He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. “Tonight, then. But Agathe, I hope you know exactly what you’re asking of me here.”
The door clicked behind Luke, and he softened at the neat coziness within Agathe’s home, at the elegant, off-white decor and splashes of color. The easy design and the classic red-brick Victorian didn’t match the hardened woman she pretended to be.
The real Agathe had class, kindness, character, all hidden behind a thick layer of prickly defenses. Tonight was his chance to break past her stony walls.
She pressed into him, fingers raking through his hair, while her lips found his. They shared a string of languid, blissful kisses, his mind constantly flicking back to her desperation at her front door. That this moment right now felt like their last.
Maybe he was wrong. She had asked for warmth, for gentleness, for what he’d wanted to give her all along; maybe there was still hope.
He scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, then whispered against the shell of her ear. “Bedroom?”
She pointed behind her, to a set of cream-colored stairs, her lips engaged with the side of his neck. He charged forward and then up, where he found a room with its door ajar, and a king-sized b
ed within.
Blue light filtered from the window, and he lowered her down beneath him on the pillowy sheets. Her blonde-brown tresses fanned out around her, reminding him to engrave every last detail of tonight on his mind.
An end loomed near. He could feel the ache of it in his bones; that really, this was her stepping away. And still, he looked for a sign. Something to indicate he was wrong, that truly she did feel for him at least a hint of what he did for her. A sign they were headed in the same direction. Or at least, she could be his in time.
If he pushed and demanded, she’d most definitely run. But if he did nothing, nothing would also happen. He would never go beyond being a placeholder for her pain. So maybe ambushing her with his dreams at dinner had been his form of compromise. Maybe this moment now would be more of the same. He’d offer her everything he had and his unrushed silence, in the hope he would be enough; that what they shared now would speak to his love for her.
But even then, his motivations weren’t altogether selfless. For all he would give, he wanted something back.
He still wanted his love returned.
25
Agathe’s skin tingled at the sweet, soft kisses Luke feathered all over her neck, his body one sumptuous, hot blanket over hers. If this were just the start for his acts of warmth, she’d be a puddle of molten woman by the end.
He tugged away her clothes, and his followed soon after, his unrushed silence speaking volumes. Everything about tonight was different, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. He’d fallen for her but also wanted the same in return.
She closed her eyes, pretending she didn’t see his need, but pretending proved impossible. His touch tugged at her emotional reserves. His quiet adoration made her feel like a heroine from a Greek tragedy, one who’d searched the underworld for her lost love, only to be dragged back to a shadowy place where love didn’t exist.
Because Elsie had taken all traces of love with her. To her underworld. To wherever it was departed children went when they died. And Agathe had been barred from that place forever, perhaps barred from experiencing love, too, as long as she lived on this earth and her daughter didn’t.
The Last Heartbeat Page 18