The Sassy One

Page 40

“That sounds more reasonable than what you were saying this morning.”
Francesca set down the pan of chicken. He took that as a sign of forgiveness and moved toward her. She melted into his embrace.
“You have no idea how much I need you,” he said as he stared into her eyes.
“So we’re talking gratitude?” she asked lightly.
“Some, but it’s more than that.” He kissed her. “You’re very important to me.”
More than important, Sam thought. Vital.
He was about to tell her just how vital when she stepped free of his embrace. “You should probably head upstairs and put your daughter out of her misery. She’s convinced her punishment is going to include being banished to a small cot outside and surviving on little more than leaves and tree bark.”
“I was thinking along the lines of no TV for a week.”
“I’m sure that will be a relief.” She gave him a little push toward the door. “Go on. I’ll get dinner ready, then I need to head home.”
He’d been about to ask her to spend the night, but if she didn’t want to…
Sam headed out of the kitchen. He wanted to clear things up with Kelly, but as he climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help thinking there was something going on with Francesca. It was almost as if she’d known he wanted to talk about their relationship, and she hadn’t wanted to have the conversation. Which made him wonder why. Was all this too much for her?
He didn’t want to think about that. Losing her would be a disaster. Not just because of Kelly, but because of how much he’d grown to care about her. He needed her. He trusted her.
He came to a stop at the top of the landing. Need. Trust. Desire. Longing. Well, hell. Somehow, when he hadn’t been paying attention, he’d gone and fallen in love.
Still stunned by the revelation, he crossed to Kelly’s room. When he opened the door, she looked at him. He could see the fear and regret in her eyes.
Neither of them spoke. He wasn’t sure what her reasons were. His were about not wanting to get it wrong. Finally he held out his arms. She raced toward him and flung herself into his embrace.
He held her close. “One of these days we’ll get it right,” he murmured.
She nodded. “Think it will happen soon?”
He chuckled. “I sure hope so.” He exhaled. “You know you’re still in trouble.”
She snuggled close. “I know. It’s okay.”
Funny how suddenly it was.
19
K elly watched herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She raised her left leg a little higher, trying for the perfect line.
“That’s right,” Miss Angelina said approvingly. “Stretch. Like Kelly, girls. See how hard she tries.”
Kelly felt a sharp pain in her leg and her hips, but she ignored it. Perfection came at a price. How many times had she been told that? Dance class was the only place she never screwed up, so she was determined to be the best here.
Against her will, her gaze slid from her own reflection to the window high in the opposite wall. She could just catch a glimpse of blue sky and part of a palm tree. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sound of the surf. She knew if she asked, Francesca would take her to the beach later. That they would talk and have fun. That Francesca would never say anything more about Kelly apologizing to her father, even though Kelly knew she wanted her to.
Kelly knew it was the right thing to do, too, but it was hard to say the words. Hard and scary. Because what if he was still mad? What if saying she was sorry wasn’t enough? What if she didn’t matter?
“And turn,” Miss Angelina called.
The instruction caught Kelly off-guard. She began to rotate, then something happened and she was falling. Her ankle twisted painfully as she slammed into the ground.
“Kelly!”
She glanced up and saw Francesca rushing forward. Her notes for her paper lay scattered on the floor. Miss Angelina crouched by Kelly.
“Where does it hurt?” the instructor asked, reaching for her ankle. “Not broken, I think. Just a slight strain.”
Pain shot through her, but that wasn’t why Kelly started to cry. Instead the tears formed because she was tired and because she desperately needed her dad to be proud of her and to maybe even love her, but what if he didn’t?
It was too much. All of it. What she wanted was to go home. So when Miss Angelina made her stand and put her weight on her sore ankle, it was so much easier to simply fall into the pain, let her eyes roll back, and faint.
Sam hurried into the house. “Is she all right?” he asked when he saw Francesca coming down the stairs.
“She’s fine. The doctor says it’s a strain, not even a sprain, and she’ll be dancing her heart out by Monday.”
“I don’t think I can take any more,” he muttered as he set his briefcase on the floor and loosened his tie. “This has been the week from hell.”
“Tell me about it,” Francesca murmured.
“At least tomorrow’s Friday.”
“Oh, goodie.”
He glanced at her. “You don’t sound happy the week is almost over.”
She shrugged. “Like you say, it’s been one thing after another.”
He pulled off his tie, then shrugged out of his jacket. “We’ll make sure we have a quiet weekend together. Just the three of us. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
Francesca smiled, but he could see there was something bothering her. Before he could ask what, she stepped back and pointed upstairs. “Why don’t you go check on our patient.”
“Sure.” He gave her a light kiss, then started up the stairs.
Kelly lay on top of her bed, her right foot propped on two pillows. Sam crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“A sports injury, huh? Are you scarred for life?”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. It was just a silly twist. I don’t know why I wasn’t paying attention more.”
“Francesca said you fainted, too. It must have hurt pretty bad.”
She shrugged.
“Tough, huh?”
“Maybe.”
He brushed her curls off her forehead. “Are you supposed to ice your ankle?”
“For the first twenty-four hours. We’re taking a break.” She stared at him. “Are you mad?”
He frowned. “Why would I be?”
“You had to leave work early and stuff. I thought…”
Kelly didn’t want to say what she was thinking. That she hadn’t wanted Francesca to call Sam because if he didn’t come home, it would mean he didn’t care. And she wanted him to care. But she didn’t want to know if he didn’t.
Still, he was here, and he looked worried, which was good.
“I wanted to know you were all right,” he said gently, and smiled. “You’re my daughter. I care about what happens to you.”
Her chest tightened. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
She stared into his eyes and tried to see if he meant it or not. She wanted to believe him so badly she could barely breathe. Maybe if she apologized for taking his credit card, he would say something else really nice.
She opened her mouth. “I know I was—”
Francesca walked into the room. “So maybe it’s time to come up with a different hobby,” she said with a grin. “Something safer, like painting.”
Irritation ripped through Kelly. As much as she liked Francesca, she hated that she’d just waltzed in here when things were going so good with her dad. If Francesca hadn’t interrupted, she, Kelly, could have apologized.
“Unlike you, I actually have my life together,” Kelly snapped without thinking. “I don’t intend to be a poor struggling student when I’m almost thirty. I intend to be successful.”
As soon as the words were out, she knew she’d made a really big mistake. She felt small and mean and sick to her stomach. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The really bad part was the look in her father’s eyes when he turned back to stare at her, and the pain and betrayal on Francesca’s face.
Francesca made a small, choking sound and quickly left the room. Sam stood.
“Dammit, Kelly,” he muttered. “What is wrong with you?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re telling the wrong person.”
Horror filled her. She’d hurt Francesca, which she’d never meant to do. “I didn’t mean it.”
“But you said it.” He shook his head. “You might have your life planned out, but at the rate you’re going, you’ll be living it alone because no one is going to want to be with you.”
She was crying too hard to see very much, but the silence that followed told her she’d been left all alone.
Francesca made it down stairs, but she couldn’t find her purse. She was still fumbling through the kitchen when she felt Sam come up behind her. He turned her, pulled her into his arms, and held her close.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She shook her head, trying to say it was okay, that she understood, only it wasn’t and she didn’t. Kelly’s words had pierced her like poisoned arrows. They’d struck deep and true, wounding her to the soul. In a couple of short sentences she’d reduced Francesca to that scared, stupid kid she’d always been. The one who was afraid of never being smart enough to make it in the world. The girl whose grandfather had told her over and over that she wasn’t to worry her pretty head about it—some nice man would take care of her. But Francesca had never wanted to be taken care of. She’d wanted to be strong enough to stand on her own. And she was. Only it didn’t feel like it.
“Oh, honey, I know it hurts,” Sam whispered into her ear as he stroked her back. “You’ve been on Kelly’s side since the second she walked into this house. You’ve put yourself out for her, and this is your reward. I wish I could change things.”
He drew back and cupped her face. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. These past few weeks have shown me that you’re a very special woman, and I’ve been lucky to have you in my life.”
Light poured from his eyes. A warm, gentle light that bathed her in a glow that should have made her happy enough to float.
Instead, it terrified her.
“Sam, don’t,” she said, pushing away from him. “Don’t say anything nice about me.”
He stiffened. “Because I’m changing the rules? Because I want more than something casual?”
It was as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest. If she hadn’t been pregnant, if she hadn’t spent the past month lying to him, she couldn’t have been happier to hear those words and know that he cared about her. Maybe even loved her. Because over the past few days she’d come to see that he mattered more than anyone ever had.
She could imagine a life with him, a future. She could see them growing old, being happy. Sam didn’t see her as a pretty face, or an ornament. He saw her as a confident, capable woman. He depended on her, believed in her. He thought she was strong. He thought of her as his equal. A partner. With him, she’d finally found everything she’d ever wanted.
But could she keep it?
“Please sit down,” she said, moving to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair. “We have to talk.”
He grimaced. “Four words every man hates to hear.” He took a seat. “Let me guess. You’re not interested in anything more than an affair.”
Tears burned in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
He brightened. “Great. Then what’s the problem?”
There was no easy way to break the news, so she went for blunt and simple. “I’m pregnant.”