Читать книгу A Husband She Couldn't Forget - Christine Rimmer - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“Love you and miss you. Lots. ’Bye, Sibbie.” Cat Santangelo hung up the phone.

Aly, nice and comfy in the wing chair by the window, with her feet propped on the plush ottoman, asked, “How’s Aunt Siobhan?”

“She thinks she needs to be here. I talked her out of coming. Your uncle Albert just had back surgery. She’s got enough on her plate taking care of him. She sends her love.” With a fond smile, Cat patted the empty side of her new king-size adjustable memory-foam bed. “Come on. It’s a giant bed and it’s super comfy. Get up in here with me.”

Aly pushed the ottoman out of the way, rose and went to stretch out on the bed with her mom. “Is he kicking?”

Cat rested a hand on the pillow next to Aly’s head. Aly felt her gentle touch as she fiddled with a lock of Aly’s hair. “He’s more of a puncher, I would say.”

Aly turned on her side—the good side, without the bandage—and rested her hand on her mom’s big stomach. “Nothing, not even a nudge.”

“Yeah, he never punches me except when we’re alone. I think he has a shy side.”

Aly stroked her mom’s belly, soothing Cat and herself and maybe the baby, too. It felt good, to spend time with her mom again. A lot of women had issues with their mothers. Not Aly. She and Cat had always banded together, presented a united front. With five strong-willed men in the family, they needed to have each other’s backs.

There was a hopeful whine from the floor on Cat’s other side. Aly and her mom chuckled together and Aly said, “Tuck wants up.”

“Come on.” Cat patted the mattress and up came Tucker, a wire-haired terrier mix her mom had adopted from the local shelter a few years before. The dog made himself comfortable, cuddling up close to Cat.

“Did it help?” asked her mom. “To see him, to talk to him?”

“In a way...” Aly indulged herself and pictured his face. His hair had darkened to a golden brown over the years and the dent in his sculpted chin was as sexy as ever. And those eyes. He could break her with those cool blue eyes.

Tuck’s tags clattered cheerfully as he gave himself a scratch.

“What way?” asked Cat.

Aly considered blowing off the question, but then couldn’t. “Don’t judge.”

“Never.”

“Seeing him made me more certain.”

“Of...?”

“That he loves me and I love him, and whoever’s fault it was, we should be together.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Are you kidding? He explained what a complete jackass he’d been, that he’d thrown me away—thrown us away. After he was finished, I mostly just wanted to punch him in the face.”

Her mom was watching her, a little smile teasing at the edges of her mouth. “And yet you’re still in love with him.”

“Smug, Mom. That’s how you sound.”

“I am smug,” replied Cat. Smugly. “I always knew that someday you two would get back together.”

“Ha! You ever tell Dad that?”

“Dear heart, there a few things your father just doesn’t need to know. Men are so simple.” She faked a deep voice. “Bring home the bacon. Protect the women.” She chuckled. “Connor hurt you and that makes him the bad guy in your father’s eyes. I see it more in shades of gray.”

“You always had a soft spot for Connor.”

“Your dad wants you safe. I want you to have what your heart most desires.”

Aly snuggled in closer. She whispered to her unborn brother, “Hey, handsome. How you doin’ in there?”

Cat asked, “So what are you gonna do about what your heart most desires?”

“We are so over, Connor and me.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t my question.”

“Fine. What can I do?”

Cat gave her a look both teasing and conspiratorial. “Your dad and your brothers are still worried you’re going to climb out a window and go after that man.”

Ever since her rude awakening in the dark hours of Sunday morning with her mind all turned around, the men of the family had repeatedly explained to her that she’d come home for one reason—to take care of her mom until after the baby was born. “Uh-uh. I’m here for you.”

Cat grunted as she shifted to her side. She pressed a kiss in the middle of Aly’s forehead and then retreated to her own pillow with a sigh. “Show me the law that says you can’t do two things at once.”

Connor spotted Alyssa as he turned into his driveway. She sat on the front step wearing a pair of those black, tight-fitting legging things that came to midthigh, silver sandals and a clingy white shirt that made her full breasts look even more spectacular than they had the day before. She was petting Maurice, who slinked in a figure eight at her side, arching his skinny back in pleasure, black tail held high.

The garage was under the house, with retaining walls on either side of the sloping driveway. When she raised her hand to him in a wave, Connor almost ran into the wall on the passenger side. At the last second, he straightened the wheel and rolled the Land Rover safely inside. The garage door glided down behind him and he let his head droop forward until his forehead met the steering wheel.

What’s she doing here? What’s going on?

He shouldn’t allow himself to be so stupidly happy at the mere sight of her beautiful, banged-up face—and none of his questions would be answered while he hid in his car.

He ran up the steps to ground level, growing breathless all out of proportion to the short climb. Dropping his briefcase on the bench in the block-glass window nook beside the door, he paused, swiped his hair back off his forehead and straightened his shoulders.

After yesterday he had figured he would never see her again—at least not on purpose, certainly not sitting on his front step waiting for him to come home.

She was standing at the threshold when he pulled the door open, Maurice at her feet. He noticed that the bandage on the side of her head was gone. She’d combed her hair over the bare spot. “I like your cat,” she said.

With a low, entitled “Reow,” Maurice strutted inside. Connor didn’t try to stop him. The cat went where he wanted to go. “Maurice belongs to my next-door neighbor. He just thinks he owns the whole block and everyone in it.”

“Maurice,” she repeated. “It suits him. He’s friendly and affectionate and he has a lot of confidence.”

“Too much confidence, if you ask me.”

And that was it. They’d run out of words. Several seconds dragged by.

Finally, she spoke again. “Is it okay if I come in, too?”

“Uh, sure. Of course.” He stepped back and she stepped forward. He shut the door.

“It’s a beautiful house,” she said. “I love the weathered gray shingles.” Her impossibly thick black eyelashes fluttered up as she glanced at the vaulted ceiling. “What kind of wood is that?”

He blinked to make himself stop staring at her. “Hemlock.”

“Gorgeous. I noticed there’s even a big porthole window upstairs.”

“Yeah.”

“Kind of beachy and nautical. The perfect house for Valentine Bay.”

He really didn’t give a damn about his house at this particular moment. “What’s going on? Is everything...? I mean, are you okay?”

“I’m fine—well, I still have the, er, major memory problem, but it’s not any worse.”

Relief made him realize he’d forgotten to breathe. He drew in air and let it out with slow care. “So...?”

She folded her pale hands together in front of her and licked those amazing, pillowy lips of hers. The sight sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin, which annoyed him no end. He tried really hard to think about unsexy things—getting his oil changed, power-washing the driveway...

Finally, she spoke again. “My mom gave me your address. Don’t freak out, but she admitted she’s kind of kept tabs on you since we split up—not in a stalkerish way, I promise.”

“Why?”

“Long story. Let’s just say she always liked you.”

A Santangelo who still liked him. Who knew?

Aly glanced away. She seemed really nervous now. And then she huffed out a breath and faced him again. “Look, Connor. Can we talk?”

He put out a hand toward the raised living area behind him. She went where he indicated, taking a seat on the gray leather sofa. Maurice jumped right up beside her and started to purr.

Connor hesitated midway to the armchair. “I can make coffee or something...”

She shook her head. As he sat down in the armchair, she asked, “You live here alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a girlfriend, Conn? Someone special?”

“No.” And what did it matter to her if he was seeing someone exclusively? “I’ve got a question for you, now.”

“All right.”

“Should I expect your brothers to show up any minute, eager to beat the crap out of me?”

She smiled at that. “Don’t worry. My mom will handle my brothers.” She concentrated on petting Maurice, her bruised hand moving in long, slow strokes. “Actually, I came to ask you a favor.”

Whatever it was, he would do it. Maybe he could make up at least a little for all the ways he’d messed up back when. “Name it.”

And just like that, she dropped the bombshell. “I’m on an extended family leave of fourteen weeks to take care of my mother, or so my dad and brothers have repeatedly explained to me since the accident. I want to move in here. I want to live with you until I go back to New York.”

Live with him?

Had she really just said that?

And why was his heart beating so hard against the walls of his chest? “What about your mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“You just said it. You’re here to take care of Cat until after the baby’s born.”

“I am, yeah. And I will. I’ll spend my days with her, be with her any other time she needs me, too. But if you say it’s okay with you, I would, um, have a room here, if you have an extra one. So that I could spend time with you, too.”

He was really trying to get his mind around this. “You want to live with me?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Yeah. And I don’t get it. I really don’t.”

“I, um...” She brought a hand to her head at the place where the bandage had been. Her sleek black eyebrows were all scrunched up.

“Alyssa. Are you okay?”

She rubbed the spot. “I am, yes. It’s just that when I get tense my head hurts sometimes. A little.”

“Are you sure that you...?”

“I’m all right,” she insisted. “It’s just what it is. Stress reaction after trauma. I’m not going to go crazy on you or anything, I promise.”

A scary thought occurred to him. “Did you drive yourself here?”

“Ungh.” Now, she pressed both hands to the sides of her head, as though his question had almost caused her brain to explode. “You sound like my dad, you know that? And yes, I did drive myself. It’s all worked out with the rental company. The blue Mazda out front is mine for the rest of my visit here. I’m cleared to drive, so you don’t have to worry I’m going to run into another tree or anything.” Her eyes sparked with equal parts irritation and determination. “And as for my staying here with you, I would pay rent.”

“Aly, forget about rent. It’s not about that.”

“Listen, I’m not asking to share your room or anything. It’s a pretty big house and you said you live here alone. You have to have a spare room.”

“I just don’t get it. We’re divorced. It wasn’t friendly. And it’s not like we’ve kept in touch.”

“I know that. I understand the actual facts of the situation, I promise you. All I want is a chance to...” She made a small, frustrated sound as the words trailed off. He waited, giving her time to collect her thoughts. Finally, she offered a sad little shrug. “Look, I get it, I do. Having me underfoot for three months does not make you feel warm all over.”

She had no idea how wrong she was. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to say it. It’s right there on your face.”

“Alyssa. I want to be up front with you.”

“Yes. Please. Be up front with me—and say you’d love to have me stay in your house while I’m in town.”

He braced his knees wide and bent to lean his elbows on them. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, okay? And I just don’t see how your moving in with me could possibly be good for you. Our marriage is over.”

“I know that.” She said it through clenched teeth.

“But you told me yesterday that you didn’t really believe it.”

“Connor. I do believe it. Yeah, my head’s a little screwed around right now, but I still have all my faculties. I know we’re not married. I have no illusions that I’ve somehow fallen down a rabbit hole and when I finally emerge, we’ll be married again and everything between us will be like it was eight years ago. I’m not Alice. There is no Wonderland. I get that. I do.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

She touched her head again. “I do believe it. I just said I believe it. I know my own brain is lying to me.”

He sat back in the chair and spoke as softly as he could manage. “I’m upsetting you.”

She put up both hands. “No. Please. You’re not. You’re really not. I am allowing myself to become upset—and I’m stopping that. Now.”

“It just seems like a bad idea. How are you going to find your way to fully accepting the truth if the two of us start playing house?”

“Playing house is not what I asked for,” she replied in a carefully modulated tone. “I asked you to let me stay with you while I’m in town. As a renter or a houseguest, whichever works better for you.”

The thing was, he wanted it. Wanted her. Still. He always had. It was his problem. And he accepted it. No one compared to her. He doubted that was ever going to change.

But that didn’t mean he should take advantage of her now. She needed to stay away from him, not start living in his house.

Major fail so far, Aly was thinking.

Connor was in no way convinced. He seemed to view her request to move in here as yet more proof that her injured brain wasn’t operating on all thrusters.

So what? He could think what he wanted. She had a goal and she was pulling out all the stops to attain it.

The accident had not only scrambled her memories. It had stripped away seven years of denial and foolish pride, brought her face-to-face with herself, shown her what she really wanted most in the world, held a mirror up to all the ways she’d failed in courage and in love.

She said, “Forget about all the reasons you believe it would be wrong for me, bad for me to move in with you. It won’t be bad. It will bring...understanding between us, peace between us. It will give us a chance to work out our issues with each other, which we never did.”

He still wasn’t buying. “Face facts. It’s long past the time when we could have worked anything out.”

“I disagree.”

“Aly, it’s years too late.”

“For us to piece our marriage back together, maybe. But it’s never too late for us to learn to put all the bitterness and sadness behind us.”

He regarded her steadily, those steel-blue eyes probing. “Is that really what you want, what you think you’re going to accomplish? That we can make peace and then let each other go?”

It wasn’t. No way. In spite of everything, she wanted it all with him. She’d never gotten over him; she understood and accepted that now. She still felt so powerfully drawn to him. She had it bad—bad enough that her injured brain had rebelled on her and tried to rewrite the past.

Her heart had never really moved on from him and she was finally willing to put her pride aside and let her heart lead the way. She wanted to try again.

And she needed to tell him that.

Just not right this minute.

“What I want is to spend time with you.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Aly. You know it is.”

“And yet just a few minutes ago, and yesterday, too, you promised me that you would do whatever I needed you to do.”

“Yes, I did. And I meant it both times.” He stood. “Just...not this.”

Her head ached. She longed to grab the fancy glass dish on the coffee table in front of her and chuck it at his heartbreaker-handsome, infuriating face.

But her doctors had explained that she shouldn’t get herself worked up, that she should try to stay calm, that in the near future, headaches and emotional outbursts were likely if she let herself get stressed out. Getting overexcited would slow the healing process down.

Aly put her head in her hands and made herself suck in several slow, deep breaths. It helped. The ache in her head lessened and the frantic feeling of losing control eased.

“Aly...” Connor came toward her. He stopped a foot from where she sat.

“It’s all right,” she said, breathing slowly and evenly. “I’m okay, honestly.”

“I’ve upset you. Again. Aly, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Really.” She met his eyes, saw his remorse, felt his regret for causing her pain right now and in the past. “Don’t beat yourself up—I mean, you should be sorry for what you did seven years ago. But as for right now, it’s your house. I get it. If you don’t want me here, well, what else is there to say?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you here. I said I thought it would be a bad idea for you to stay here.”

Was he giving her an opening? “So...you do want me here?”

“Aly...” He seemed not to know what to say next.

Maurice was curled in a ball against her thigh, purring contentedly.

Connor picked up the cat, set him on the floor and sat down beside her. “This is just crazy.”

“Tell me about it.” She watched Maurice strut away, tail held high. And then, with a tired little groan, she let herself sway toward the man sitting next to her.

The most beautiful thing happened. He wrapped his arm around her.

It felt so good, just to lean against his solid strength. And he smelled the same. Clean and manly, like soap and cedar branches. She breathed him in and felt better about everything. The proximity of his body, his heat, the weight of his arm across her shoulders—it all added up to contentment, somehow. Having him close made her world a better place.

He rubbed her arm, soothing her.

With a sigh, she gave in to the comfort he offered, resting her tired head on his hard, warm shoulder, relaxing in the cradle of his embrace.

He stroked her hair. She wished he would never stop. “I’m only trying to do the right thing here,” he said, his voice low, rumbly. Intimate in the best sort of way.

The right thing...

How could he not know that this—his arm around her, his hand caressing her hair—was just about as right as it ever got? She leaned more deeply into his strength and flat-out reveled in having him hold her again.

Years. It had been years since he’d held her. That seemed simply impossible. How could she have let the distance and the silence between them go on for so long? Whatever he’d done, whatever the facts were, her heart knew the truth. Her mom was right. They needed this time together, she and Connor.