Chapter Eleven
Disoriented by dawn’s first rays, Colby wished she’d remembered to close the blinds. She pressed her fingers to her slightly tender lips. Lips ravaged by hundreds of perfect kisses. Limbs heavy from hours of lovemaking.
Most guys had made short work of foreplay. Alec, however, had never been like most guys.
After a lifetime of watching him pay particular attention to every detail, be it a puzzle or a recipe or any project he’d ever attempted, it didn’t surprise her to discover he was also that kind of lover. The memory of his touch unleashed a rush of warmth that coiled in her tummy, making her smile. Words that rarely entered her vocabulary anymore—“sweet, emotional, moving”—came to mind.
She watched him sleeping on his stomach, arms and legs akimbo, and studied his graceful cheekbones, shiny hair, curve of his shoulders, outline of triceps. At once familiar and yet so fascinatingly new.
Only inches separated them in her bed. It had been nearly two years since she’d shared this space with anyone.
Mark had been a belly sleeper, too. When they’d first met and made love, he’d also enthralled Colby even as her instinct warned her to slow down. She should’ve listened to that instinct instead of being impulsive—of getting swept up in emotion and lust. But she’d been young and had rushed into marriage with all the assuredness and hopefulness of any inexperienced young woman. Now the ashes of that marriage still gathered in the alcoves of her mind, no matter how often she tried sweeping them away.
And yet, without much hesitation, she’d given in to impulse again last night. Alec’s perfect kisses had swept her away, just as he’d promised. Now what? Could she and Alec share something like Hunter and Sara had, or were the obstacles and history too overwhelming? Doubts began circling the bed, making her chest tight. The urge to push away—to run as far and fast as she could—gripped her with astonishing force.
She slid out of bed and, after quietly slipping on some clothes, went to the living room and paced. She’d forgotten how awkward “the morning after” could be with a man who wasn’t one’s husband, not to mention one who’d been a friend, an adversary, a pseudo brother . . .
Oh, good God. Alec Morgan was naked in her bed. How could that seem right and wrong at the same time?
Sun rays streamed through the plate glass, glinting off her wedding band and stopping her heart. She lifted the ring, now warm and familiar in her palm. It didn’t belong on her ring finger after last night.
She tested the band on her right hand, which felt odd. Odd but necessary. Unwelcome, irrational feelings of betrayal of both Mark and Alec tangled her thoughts and emotions into a thick knot. Food might help. She grabbed her keys and headed for a convenience store to buy eggs and milk. At the very least, cooking would give her something to do until Alec woke up.
Along the three-block walk, she passed by a homeless man sleeping in a corner near a garage. Many of the homeless clustered closer to the highways, where the mayor allowed them to pitch tents at night. The population seemed to be expanding lately, with more scattered throughout the city, especially near the parks.
That man’s fate—alone, penniless, and covered by a thin, dingy blanket—could’ve easily been Mark’s, too. He’d burned through his accounts during manic phases, spending ungodly sums on crazy things like plane tickets for a spiritual trip to Tibet and cases of sixty-dollar bottles of organic elderflower lemonade from Europe. Once he gambled away nearly his entire savings in Vegas. Had it not been for her job and her CTC stock, he could’ve easily ended up huddled in some corner of the city.
Mark’s family lived in New Hampshire and had kept in touch sporadically at best. Without her, Mark would’ve been lost long before they’d learned he went missing.
Not that she’d ultimately been able to save him. That thought always twisted her stomach. She knew, deep down, she’d never fully shirk the weight of her share of responsibility for what happened to her marriage and to her husband. To her. Did other people walk around hiding that level of guilt and pain?
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if the stranger had any family. If he, too, was mentally ill.
On her way home from the convenience store, she set a small bag with bread, peanut butter, and apple juice near the still-slumbering homeless man. He stirred but didn’t waken. Slightly afraid, she scooted away, wishing she were braver. Wishing she could do more. Then she remembered Alec’s wonderful idea. A smile formed, not only because she knew just what she wanted to do, but also because it reminded her of Alec’s best trait: his kind heart.
When she returned, Alec was already dressed and ready to go. His gaze landed on the bag in her right hand and then homed in on the ring. “I didn’t know where you went. I thought . . . Are you upset?”
She recognized that “bracing for pain” expression he’d always donned whenever his father entered the room. He must’ve thought she’d run away this morning, which she sort of had. Now he expected to be hurt.
The thought of adding to the vein of rejection that ran through Alec like a wormhole wrung her heart.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.” She gave him a quick kiss, willing her lingering doubts into submission as she raised the bag up. “Not even you could whip up breakfast without a quick restocking. This time, I’ll cook.”
He stared at her an extra second, assessing and hopeful. She pushed down the knowledge that she’d already started repeating the bad patterns from her marriage of hiding her doubts to spare his feelings.
“Trying to prove that you actually did learn to cook from watching me in high school?” His grin lit a match in her chest, loosening the tightness.
“Something like that.” Although she felt as vulnerable as he looked, she could do this, dammit. She wanted to do this with Alec. “Tea or coffee?”
“Neither, thanks.” He sank onto a kitchen stool. “What do you have planned today?”
“During my walk, I got an idea. What if we use the fund we discussed to help the homeless?”
“I’d assumed we’d support an environmental cause, given Mark’s and Joe’s passion for the wilderness.” Alec rubbed his chin. “Why the homeless?”
“It’s a real problem in the city. I also think many suffer from mental illness. Without the support they need, they end up alone and lost. I think Mark—” She shook her head and prayed Alec didn’t catch her slip of tongue. “I think Mark and Joe would support that. The environment is important, but people matter more.”
“Okay, then.” Alec’s warm smile wrapped around her heart. “The homeless.”
“Thank you.” She cracked eggs into a bowl. “We could visit the Burnside Shelter this morning and find out what they need—food, beds, clothing.”
“I can’t today. I skipped my morning cycling with Hunter, but I can’t blow off my mom, too. I promised I’d drive to the coast with her to visit my gram.”
She whisked the eggs, wondering if Alec was keeping Hunter’s reaction from her. “Hunter must be pissed about being blown off.”
“I texted him an apology in case he waited around.”
The wire whisk landed against the edge of the bowl with a clank. “You have your phone?”
“I know. Shocking!” He pulled it from his pocket, smiling, then set it on her counter.
“How’d he react to this?” She gestured between them, forcing the issue.
“I didn’t mention it. You were gone. I thought you’d had regrets.” He glanced at her ring again, a stoic mask covering his emotions. “Do you, Colby?”
She’d sworn she wouldn’t start a new relationship with dishonesty, yet she couldn’t hurt him. Especially when her doubts didn’t rise to the level of regret. She might fear the part of her heart vibrating with happiness and hope, but she didn’t want to shut it off, either. Her hesitation must’ve telegraphed uncertainty, causing his crestfallen expression.
“It’s okay, you know.” He stood. “I should get out of your way this morning. On Wednesday you can let me know what the rescue shelter says, and we’ll work on that project together.”
Her throat tightened, but the voice in her head shouted “Don’t go!”
“Wait.” She turned off the stove and dashed around the breakfast bar, placing her hands on his chest. “I don’t regret last night, Alec. I don’t.”
“I hear a ‘but’ in there . . .” He didn’t embrace her. “Last night you said you wanted to put Mark behind you, but today you’re wearing his ring again.”
“I know. I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it. My feelings about Mark are complicated. I need to take baby steps.” She tugged at his shirt. “You said you’d be patient.”
He nodded. “I will be.”
“Thank you.” She wound her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. Once he hugged her, she breathed again. This part felt so right she couldn’t let her chickenshit heart steal her chance at happiness with this man and his perfect kisses. “Let’s talk to Hunter together, unless that makes you uncomfortable.”
“You’re ready to go public?”
“I don’t want to hide my life from my family.” In this way her relationship with Alec would differ from her marriage. “I’ll probably visit my mom this afternoon. Maybe we can swing by Hunter’s in the evening?”
“I’ll be back by then, so I’ll pick you up at your mom’s.” Alec grinned. “I wonder what Leslie will think.”
“Leslie will be thrilled—and sure to expect an endless supply of pastries and visits,” she snickered. “Now maybe you’re having second thoughts.”
He cupped her face, his expression sober and intense. “Never.”
Unexpectedly, relief whooshed through her. “Even if your parents freak out.”
“Stop focusing on my parents.”
“Your dad really dislikes me.” Colby eased out of his arms, even though it was chilly outside of his embrace. “This could be explosive.”
He squeezed her hands. “He won’t hurt you.”
“What if he hurts you?”
“After last night, nothing he does can touch me.” He sounded lighthearted, but she suspected he’d done that for her protection.
Baggage. They both had enough to fill a 747. But she had no doubt Alec had her interests at heart. If ever there were a man she could trust to be whom he appeared to be, it should be him.
Alec kissed her—a warm, slow kiss. A kiss that eased her worries and rekindled the desire she’d been keeping at bay. She ran her hands over his hips and then fiddled with his pants button. He moaned and kissed her deeper, but then pulled back.
“If my mom wasn’t expecting me soon, I’d keep you in bed all day.” Following one final, too-quick kiss, he said, “See you later.”
After he left she noticed the hum of the fridge, the tick of the vintage wall clock. The sounds of the lonely life she’d grown accustomed to before Alec reminded her of what she’d been missing.
“I’m not surprised.” Alec’s mother stared at the pine trees aligning the road along the drive home from visiting Gram. “You always liked Colby.”
Given Colby’s circumspection, he’d considered keeping their relationship quiet awhile longer. But that would be another secret, and he could barely shoulder the crippling weight of the others.
“She’s always been special—the way she puts others’ feelings first.” Alec recollected the earliest signs of that trait and realized her protective stance toward his staff should never have surprised him. “The empathy she’s had for others. How she quietly goes about making sure people know they matter. She makes me feel like I matter.”
“You matter to me.” His mom looked affronted.
“That’s different. Plus, look at how she’s survived everything with Mark and Joe. She’s not bitter and broken. She’s taking risks with a new career, with me. How can someone not admire her?” He needed his mom to accept Colby because he knew his father would not. “You used to like her, Mom.”
“She’s lovely, but it’s complicated. Your father . . .” More silence preceded a sigh.
“My coming home hasn’t made things better.”
“It has for me.” She patted his thigh. “I love spending time together, honey.”
Alec aimed for optimism. “Maybe he’ll surprise us, especially when he hears about the memorial fund. Doing something in Joe’s name should please him.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother’s grimace. “He’ll hate having it share Mark’s name.”
“Mark didn’t push Joe off that cliff.” Alec took his misgivings out on his hair, raking his hand through it for the fifth or sixth time in the past forty-five minutes. “At some point, don’t we have to accept that fact?”
“It’s brutal, Alec. Losing a child . . . you want someone to blame—someone other than your child.” Her voice wobbled, making him regret causing her to defend her feelings. “It’s not logical, but grief rarely is.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. But blaming Colby is as tenuous as blaming yourselves for moving next door to the Cabots.”
“I’ve had that thought, too.” She blew out a sigh. “The ‘if onlies’ are numbing.”
Numbing? That’d be a nice change from the way his “if onlies” ate at his conscience like acid. He didn’t have the courage to confess his fight with Joe, but maybe sharing his role in Mark’s suicide would convince his mom that forgiveness mattered for everyone’s sake.
“I need to tell you something else.” His rough voice startled her.
“What, honey?”
“A week before Mark killed himself, he’d sent me a suicidal apology note. I didn’t take the threat seriously, so I didn’t respond or warn Colby.” His chest grew heavy while thinking back on Colby’s teary plea last night. “If I’d have said something, Colby wouldn’t have witnessed that violent death and become a widow. She might even be a mother by now.”
His mom absorbed his confession in silence for several seconds. “Does Colby know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Take your pick: shock, horror, shame. I was still reeling from Joe’s funeral and could barely concentrate at work.” He shook his head. “When Hunter told me what happened, I didn’t see the point of a too-late apology. As time passed, Hunter said she was healing, so it seemed unfair to dredge it up just to ease my conscience.”
When Alec saw his mother’s skeptical expression, he said, “I know, Mom. That’s part of why I left town, and also one reason I came back. I’d planned to make it up to her. To make sure she found some happiness again. The job gave me that chance. Then yesterday, when things got personal, I tried to confess, but she begged me not to make her talk about the past.”
His mother rubbed her temple, as she was prone to do when thinking. “Mark could be so dramatic; I understand why you didn’t take his threat seriously.” She clucked to herself. “If Colby doesn’t want to discuss the past, why tell me this?”
“So you understand why the memorial fund should be in both names.” When she appeared confused by his logic, he added, “If our family blames Mark for Joe’s death, then I’m at least as culpable in Mark’s.”
His mom’s face twitched, but she didn’t say anything. He turned onto Lakeshore Drive, although the familiar streets of Lake Sandy—quaint storefronts with overflowing flower boxes—offered no comfort.
When they passed Leslie Cabot’s house, his heart skipped at the sight of Colby’s car. Despite everything that could go wrong, a smile formed at the thought of Leslie’s reaction. His smile deflated when he parked in his parents’ driveway. “I’ll wait to talk to Dad until you aren’t around.”
She stared out the window, biting her thumbnail. “No. If I’m in the room, he might restrain himself.”
“I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” She touched his cheek before opening her door. “I don’t care how old you are, you’re still my baby.”
“I don’t need you as a buffer, Mom.”
“I didn’t fight hard enough for you in the past, so I won’t let you stop me from trying now. Besides, this is a family matter.” Her determined stare warned him she wouldn’t back down.
He surrendered in order to preserve his energy for taking on his dad. The ground beneath him seemed uneven as he walked with her into the house. Perhaps he shouldn’t charge in and blow up a powder keg to be with Colby, especially when her feelings weren’t yet dependable.
“You’re back.” His father looked up from the television, expression neutral, as if the other week’s insults hadn’t occurred. He’d always been that way. Screaming and cursing one day, then acting as if everything was fine the next. “What’s for dinner?”
“Grilled chicken salad.” His mom set her purse on the entry table, looking battle weary.
“Rather have a burger or ribs.” His dad grinned before tossing back a fistful of peanuts.
“I’d rather keep your cholesterol down.” His mom smiled pleasantly and took a seat on the sofa, moving the can of nuts to the end table out of his reach. “Alec, will you be staying for dinner?”
“No, I’ve got plans.” He stood stiffly, wishing he could find some way to connect with his dad instead of picking this battle.
Alec gathered his courage, remembering his mom’s story about Grandpa and trying to convince himself that his father’s bitterness toward him sprang from envy, not antipathy. Of course, as soon as his dad learned about Colby, it could turn into both. Things might get worse before they got better, but surely his father would eventually accept her.
His father’s gaze flicked to him. “I was a cop, remember? Despite what you think, I did more than eat donuts on the job. You two just spent the whole day together, so I’m pretty sure your mom already knows about your plans. If this is an opening to tell me something unpleasant, just out with it already.”
Rather than soft-pedal, Alec channeled Joe and jumped right in. “I have a date. With Colby.”
His father stared at him. Nothing moved. Not a brow, a nostril, a hair on the man’s head. He didn’t even blink for what seemed like an hour. The pained shock on his face caused an ache in Alec’s chest.
When his dad finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “You have no sense of family loyalty.”
Alec’s heart caved in on itself. Years of turning the other cheek for the good of the family had gone unappreciated by his dad. By Joe. “That’s not true.”
“That girl—” Disdain colored his dad’s tone.
“‘That girl’ has a name,” Alec interrupted. “That girl gave me a job. That girl, our lifelong neighbor, grieves for her friend Joe.” Alec crossed his arms, anticipating the need for additional protection. “In fact, Colby and I are starting a memorial fund in Joe’s and Mark’s names to raise money for the homeless. We’re planning a fund-raiser at the restaurant. This could be an opportunity for our two families to heal.”
“Like hell you’ll link your brother’s name with the man who killed him.” His father sprang out of his recliner. “What’s wrong with you?”
Fortunately, Alec stood far enough outside his father’s range to avoid being showered with spittle. He didn’t flinch, although he wondered whether his dad might actually strike him. Alec had anticipated blowback, but not the level of animosity he saw in his father’s eyes. For the first time he realized he might never find a way to hold on to both his family and Colby. He glanced at his mother and knew, if handed an ultimatum, he’d be forced to sacrifice his own happiness. Quietly, he said, “Mark didn’t kill Joe.”
“He sure as hell did.” His dad lunged forward, now inches away, face tight with fury.
“Frank,” came his mother’s stern warning. Alec wished she’d leave. It’d be easier to deal with his dad if he didn’t have to worry about her feelings. But she’d made her choice, and he had to see this through.
“Mark didn’t push Joe, Dad.” Alec stood tall.
“Daring Joe to jump was like handing a gun to a criminal and expecting him not to shoot. As far as I’m concerned, Mark Baxter should’ve been charged with negligent homicide.”
“You know the law better than that. Besides, Mark suffered for what he did. So much so, he jumped off his balcony in front of his wife. He paid a steep price for making that dare. Does Colby have to keep paying, too? And me? Mom?” Alec gestured toward her, the one person he believed his dad did still love. “When can all the suffering end?”
“Why should anyone else’s suffering end?” His father’s grief-stricken face collapsed, his voice as close to a sob as Alec had ever heard. “Mine sure as shit hasn’t, and it never will.”
The pain radiating through the room stilled everyone, as if one wrong move would trigger a cataclysmic explosion. Alec didn’t know which scared him more, seeing his dad’s anger or witnessing his vulnerability. Hesitantly, he reached out to comfort, but his father shrugged him off.
Another rejection nicked at his heart. That muscle had more scars than both his hands and forearms put together.
“Dad.” His own eyes stung. “Colby lost her friend and then, less than three months later, her husband. Maybe if our family had stopped blaming Mark, he wouldn’t have jumped.”
“You think I give a shit about Mark Baxter?” his dad shouted. “As far as I’m concerned, he got what he deserved.”
“Did Colby?” Alex shot back, desperate to make headway so he wouldn’t have to choose sides. “If you can’t muster any sympathy for her, can you at least stop treating her like the enemy?”
His father shook his head. “You want to work for her, lay her, start a foundation with her, go be my guest. But don’t expect me to like it. And don’t make her out to be the victim. Joe was the victim.” He circled his hand around the room. “We’re the victims.”
“Frank, enough!” Alec’s mom stood, but his father waved her off and stormed out of the house. They heard him zoom down the driveway before he peeled off to God-knows-where.
“That went well.” Alec made a face at his mother.
“Nothing got broken. It could’ve been worse.”
“You think he’ll come around?” Alec needed her to tell him yes, even if she was lying.
“I don’t know.”