Any Time, Any Place
Page 70
The night was long. Al stayed while she locked up, refusing to budge, and finally she got in her Jeep and drove home.
Dalton’s truck was parked in her driveway.
Swallowing down the raw urgency to reach him, she walked deliberately slowly, trying to clear her mind. Please, God, let him be here to talk. He sat on the steps, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. His hair caught the moonlight, turning to molten gold, and his face remained carved from stone when he finally looked at her.
Her heart sank.
“I want to talk.”
She nodded, leading him inside. Heart pounding, she waited for him to accuse or fling angry insults, but he stood in front of the wall, staring at the paintings she’d put up. “Are these your father’s?” he asked tightly.
“Yes. I had them covered up for a long time. But I think we’ve all been in the dark for too long.”
“Poetic. Maybe if I’d seen these before, I would’ve known. Or asked questions.”
“Maybe. I don’t think it would have changed what happened between us, though. I put them up that morning, you know. I always planned to tell you.”
He remained silent, studying the paintings. Then he turned his back on them and sat down on the couch.
Nerves attacked. “Do you want coffee?” she asked politely.
“No, thanks.”
She sat in the opposite chair. The distance between them stretched as long and deep as the Grand Canyon, and there was a terrifying silence she didn’t know how to breach. “Did you get my voice mails?”
“Yeah. I listened to them all today. When you were making excuses to not get involved with me, you said you wanted to get married. Was that a lie, too?”
“No. I may have emphasized it a bit more, because I needed some defenses against you. It was a way for me to make sure you kept your distance. But I do want long term. I’ve done my playing around and intended to look for a man who’d like to settle down. A man interested in marriage and a family.”
He didn’t answer for a while, seeming to process her statement. Vulnerability hit her. It was hard sharing things with a man who no longer acted like he cared about her. She kept telling herself the man she loved was still there, he was just buried underneath a mess of emotions and hurt right now.
“You said your tattoo was a symbol of justice. Care to elaborate now that all our skeletons are out?”
She refused to wince. Her fingers came up unconsciously to stroke the familiar lines. “I thought your mother had ruined my father. Your family forced me to question his love and loyalty, and it was easier to hate. I got the tat so I’d never forget the day I lost him. I wanted to be reminded that one day, justice would finally be served.”
“Congratulations. How does it feel to scratch something off your bucket list?”
“I can’t apologize for the girl I was and how I felt, Dalton. I won’t even try. I can only say I see things more clearly now, and we owe it to ourselves to forgive. That’s the real justice I was looking for all along.”
He seemed to ponder her words, taking his time before asking another question. “What made you change your mind about my mother?”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap. “The stories you told me. The way you loved her. The way she loved you. They didn’t add up to the woman I’d imagined. Then my aunt Penny mentioned something to me recently. She said Papa told her about a woman he’d fallen in love with, but who needed time to sort things out. We both agreed it sounded like a married woman. I think it was your mom.”
He flinched but kept talking. “You believe they were coming back?”
“I do. All this time, I was so angry and confused. But along the way, I’d forgotten how close I was with my father. What purpose would there be to fleeing to Paris on a weeknight, leaving families they loved behind? My aunt kept telling me the same thing, but I wasn’t ready to accept it. Now I realize it doesn’t make sense.”
“People rarely do,” he muttered. “Especially when sex is involved, which is too often mistaken for love.”
She hugged her body tight against the sudden chill. “Love would’ve brought them back.”
“Love made them leave and killed them both. You’re being a romantic fool because it’s easier to believe. You’re still denying the idea of your father going after my family’s money?”
“Papa wasn’t interested in money—not that way. He lived for his art and everyday pleasures. We were poor, but it never felt like it. We were happy.”
“Maybe that was a mirage, too.”
“No. Just like I don’t believe your mother hated your father so badly she decided to cut her sons loose. She loved you.”
“You know nothing about my mother,” he whipped out.
She fell silent, caught between words that couldn’t reach him and the voice inside begging her to touch him and bring him back.
“Cal told me he knew who you were.”
She blinked in surprise. “He knew about me?”
“He didn’t tell me, though.”
“Why?”
His face revealed a flicker of pain. Her heart swelled with the urge to reach for him, comfort him, but she kept still. “Guess he’s come to the conclusion you have—that our parents fell in love and were coming back. He told me I looked so happy with you, he wanted you to tell me the truth yourself.”
She choked back a sob. “Dalton, I never wanted to hurt you. Never. This connection between us has always been there, and I’ve been fighting it from the very first day. But I don’t want to any longer. I realize you’re the man I was meant for, even though it’s been a short time. There’s an emptiness in my core that’s filled when I’m around you. I’ve traveled the world and met a thousand people to try to slake that emptiness, but it all went away when I first saw you.”
His jaw tightened. “I did, too. But what was real and what was a sick way to get closer to the memory of your father?”
She jerked back. “It wasn’t like that!”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
The rage was back, shaking his body like a storm wind clutching a weak tree branch. Her body hurt, and she moved toward him, desperate to take away the pain and convince him of the truth. She knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. “This is about you and me,” she said. “This is about how you make me feel when you take me in your arms and make me yours.”
Dalton’s truck was parked in her driveway.
Swallowing down the raw urgency to reach him, she walked deliberately slowly, trying to clear her mind. Please, God, let him be here to talk. He sat on the steps, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. His hair caught the moonlight, turning to molten gold, and his face remained carved from stone when he finally looked at her.
Her heart sank.
“I want to talk.”
She nodded, leading him inside. Heart pounding, she waited for him to accuse or fling angry insults, but he stood in front of the wall, staring at the paintings she’d put up. “Are these your father’s?” he asked tightly.
“Yes. I had them covered up for a long time. But I think we’ve all been in the dark for too long.”
“Poetic. Maybe if I’d seen these before, I would’ve known. Or asked questions.”
“Maybe. I don’t think it would have changed what happened between us, though. I put them up that morning, you know. I always planned to tell you.”
He remained silent, studying the paintings. Then he turned his back on them and sat down on the couch.
Nerves attacked. “Do you want coffee?” she asked politely.
“No, thanks.”
She sat in the opposite chair. The distance between them stretched as long and deep as the Grand Canyon, and there was a terrifying silence she didn’t know how to breach. “Did you get my voice mails?”
“Yeah. I listened to them all today. When you were making excuses to not get involved with me, you said you wanted to get married. Was that a lie, too?”
“No. I may have emphasized it a bit more, because I needed some defenses against you. It was a way for me to make sure you kept your distance. But I do want long term. I’ve done my playing around and intended to look for a man who’d like to settle down. A man interested in marriage and a family.”
He didn’t answer for a while, seeming to process her statement. Vulnerability hit her. It was hard sharing things with a man who no longer acted like he cared about her. She kept telling herself the man she loved was still there, he was just buried underneath a mess of emotions and hurt right now.
“You said your tattoo was a symbol of justice. Care to elaborate now that all our skeletons are out?”
She refused to wince. Her fingers came up unconsciously to stroke the familiar lines. “I thought your mother had ruined my father. Your family forced me to question his love and loyalty, and it was easier to hate. I got the tat so I’d never forget the day I lost him. I wanted to be reminded that one day, justice would finally be served.”
“Congratulations. How does it feel to scratch something off your bucket list?”
“I can’t apologize for the girl I was and how I felt, Dalton. I won’t even try. I can only say I see things more clearly now, and we owe it to ourselves to forgive. That’s the real justice I was looking for all along.”
He seemed to ponder her words, taking his time before asking another question. “What made you change your mind about my mother?”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands in her lap. “The stories you told me. The way you loved her. The way she loved you. They didn’t add up to the woman I’d imagined. Then my aunt Penny mentioned something to me recently. She said Papa told her about a woman he’d fallen in love with, but who needed time to sort things out. We both agreed it sounded like a married woman. I think it was your mom.”
He flinched but kept talking. “You believe they were coming back?”
“I do. All this time, I was so angry and confused. But along the way, I’d forgotten how close I was with my father. What purpose would there be to fleeing to Paris on a weeknight, leaving families they loved behind? My aunt kept telling me the same thing, but I wasn’t ready to accept it. Now I realize it doesn’t make sense.”
“People rarely do,” he muttered. “Especially when sex is involved, which is too often mistaken for love.”
She hugged her body tight against the sudden chill. “Love would’ve brought them back.”
“Love made them leave and killed them both. You’re being a romantic fool because it’s easier to believe. You’re still denying the idea of your father going after my family’s money?”
“Papa wasn’t interested in money—not that way. He lived for his art and everyday pleasures. We were poor, but it never felt like it. We were happy.”
“Maybe that was a mirage, too.”
“No. Just like I don’t believe your mother hated your father so badly she decided to cut her sons loose. She loved you.”
“You know nothing about my mother,” he whipped out.
She fell silent, caught between words that couldn’t reach him and the voice inside begging her to touch him and bring him back.
“Cal told me he knew who you were.”
She blinked in surprise. “He knew about me?”
“He didn’t tell me, though.”
“Why?”
His face revealed a flicker of pain. Her heart swelled with the urge to reach for him, comfort him, but she kept still. “Guess he’s come to the conclusion you have—that our parents fell in love and were coming back. He told me I looked so happy with you, he wanted you to tell me the truth yourself.”
She choked back a sob. “Dalton, I never wanted to hurt you. Never. This connection between us has always been there, and I’ve been fighting it from the very first day. But I don’t want to any longer. I realize you’re the man I was meant for, even though it’s been a short time. There’s an emptiness in my core that’s filled when I’m around you. I’ve traveled the world and met a thousand people to try to slake that emptiness, but it all went away when I first saw you.”
His jaw tightened. “I did, too. But what was real and what was a sick way to get closer to the memory of your father?”
She jerked back. “It wasn’t like that!”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
The rage was back, shaking his body like a storm wind clutching a weak tree branch. Her body hurt, and she moved toward him, desperate to take away the pain and convince him of the truth. She knelt in front of him, her hands resting on his knees. “This is about you and me,” she said. “This is about how you make me feel when you take me in your arms and make me yours.”
