Chapter 10
The shrill tones of the school bell had Donovan’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest. It had been five days since Valerie had offered him the opportunity to talk, but his calls had gone unanswered. All twenty of them.
Kids in brightly colored coats and hats tromped through the piles of freshly fallen leaves, kicking them into the air and cluttering the sidewalk with the remnants of orange and red foliage. The sound of their laughter and chatter resonated deep inside him. That, paired with the sight of parents greeting their children, herding them into waiting cars or grasping their hands and walking together sent a pang of longing through him. His chest grew tight as he watched a little blond-haired girl run—squealing with a wide smile on her face—straight into her dad’s waiting arms.
Images of what it would be like if it were Donovan scooping his own daughter up into his arms raced through his head. He’d always imagined they’d have a girl who looked just like Valerie, but maybe she’d have his green eyes. The anger and grief he’d worked so hard to move past reared its ugly head for a moment, but then he saw her. Valerie stood at the bottom of the staircase which led to the entrance of the school.
Her face.
God, her beautiful face made him want to fall to his knees and beg her to take him back.
His strides were wide and fast as he all but ran toward her. Each step he made to close the distance between them had his need for her intensifying.
“Donovan.” Her voice was clipped and raspy, and when he got closer, he noticed her red-rimmed eyes.
Reaching out without a thought, he cupped her cheek and slid his thumb over her cheekbone.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Shaking her head, she turned her face out of his grasp and started down the sidewalk toward the teacher parking lot. Confused, he watched her for a second before her retreat registered. For a tiny woman, she was fast. He chased after her, gently gripping her elbow and slowing her pace.
“What could I possibly have done now? It’s been days since I saw you. How could I have upset you?”
She shrugged. “It’s not you. Just . . . hard day, that’s all.”
“Come on. Let’s take a walk, get some fresh air, before you head home.”
Her bright blue eyes locked on him and it killed him to see tears pooling in their depths. At first he thought she was going to deny him, get in her car, and leave him behind. But she nodded and took his hand, twining their fingers together. It was such a small gesture, but that little bit of contact sent hope ricocheting through his body.
They walked silently through the surrounding neighborhood. Craftsman-style homes lined the street, each one decorated for fall; some with jack-o-lanterns gracing the porches, others fully decked out in Halloween paraphernalia. His favorite was the house with a graveyard on the lawn and a giant spider mounted over the garage.
“So, what are you dressing up as for Halloween?” he asked, trying for casual, knowing she needed time before she’d be ready to tell him what was so bad about today.
“Mary Poppins.”
He couldn’t help his grin.
“The kids have a storybook parade on Friday, since it’s the day before Halloween.” She sniffed and let out a shaky laugh. “They wanted me to dress up as Elsa from Frozen, but I told them I might break out into song and none of them wanted to hear me sing.”
“What? You’re a great singer.”
“Do you know how expensive an Elsa costume would be? No, thanks. I’ll go as my favorite British nanny.”
“What time is the parade?”
“Nine-thirty. They’re so excited.”
They continued down the sidewalk in silence a few minutes more.
“You made Lieutenant.” She stated it, as though that had been a given.
A wash of pride caught him off guard. “I did. Even with . . . everything that happened.”
“I’m proud of you, hotshot.”
His chest squeezed to hear her use his nickname. He hadn’t heard that in too long. All the time they’d been walking, she hadn’t let go of his hand. His worry ebbed with every passing moment.
“You going to tell me what I did to make you cry this time?”
She stiffened. Shit. He’d fucked up by going there too soon.
“Grace emailed me today.”
“Oh, yeah? How are they?”
“They’re coming home for Thanksgiving.” He knew by her tense shoulders and the set of her jaw she wasn’t finished. “She’s pregnant again.”
The firm set of her jaw told him everything he needed to know. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, he pulled her into his chest, holding her tight and running his hand over her back. She tried to push him away, but he tightened his grip and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Heaving a shuddering sigh she let go, deep sobs escaping her, tears soaking his t-shirt, and soon her fingers clutched his back as she let out everything she’d been holding back right there in front of everyone and anyone around.
“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.”
When her tears turned to sniffles, she lifted her face to look at him. The flurry of emotions that flashed in her expression confused him.
“How did I become this person?”
“What do you mean?”
“The bitter, jealous woman who can’t be happy for her friend. Grace is having another baby. I should be filled with excitement for her. Instead, I rolled my eyes and wanted to throw something out the window. That’s not fair to her.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, holding on just a little too long. “You can’t help how you feel. But if I know you. You didn’t do any of that. I bet you wrote her a nice congratulation response, right?”
Nodding, she stepped out of his embrace, leaving him colder than he wanted to be. “I just,” her voice trembled. “Am I always going to feel like this? I don’t want to. I want to move on, have my life back.”
“I don’t know how to answer that, but I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
Shaking her head, she sighed. “I don’t think anyone can.”
They turned back toward the school, walking side by side, but not touching anymore. A big part of him mourned the feel of her hand in his. The moment she started rummaging in her purse for her keys, he had to force himself to take a step back and give her space. Every part of him cried out to crush his lips to hers and show her exactly how they could both start to feel normal. They belonged together and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d never be healed if they weren’t together.
As she drove away, he watched her car’s tail lights get smaller and smaller. He couldn’t let her down. She deserved to be happy, and he was going to be the man to make her feel that way.
~ ~ ~
Valerie adjusted her red bow-tie one final time before grabbing her umbrella and the ancient carpet bag her mom had kept tucked away in the attic for the last thirty years. There were benefits to having a pack-rat for a mother. The majority of them being easy Halloween costumes. Now the only thing she’d purchased for this getup was a white button-down shirt. Her mom had the hat, complete with daisies and fake cherries. For some reason she even had the umbrella with the weird bird on the handle.
As the kids began lining up outside, ready to head into the classroom, she smiled, watching them fiddle with their costumes and show them off for each other. She had to admit, there were some good ones. One girl was dressed as Hermione Granger, another was Pippi Longstocking—crazy pigtails and everything.
The morning was chaos. With the kids so excited for their parade, they barely made it through their morning routine. But then it was time to traipse through the school, down the sidewalks, and through the neighborhood. As Valerie led her students, the sound of children from other kindergarten classes filled the hallway. A smile spread her lips, and when they got outside she laughed at the sight of the entire school lining the sidewalk. Putting her back to the crowd, she counted her kids to make sure no stragglers had been left behind.
Her breath caught in her throat when Lincoln shouted, “It’s the firefighter!”
Turning on her heel, she came face to face with a soot-cheeked Donovan wearing suspenders and high water pants. His hair was covered by a pageboy cap and he held a chimney brush across one shoulder.
“Donovan!” She looked him up and down, completely shocked and absolutely charmed. “You’re . . . a chimney sweep.”
Putting on a bad Cockney accent, he said, “Well, hello there, Mary.”
“Where did you get that thing?” She gestured at the large black brush.
He shrugged. “Michael had it in his shed.”
Her eyebrow rose involuntarily. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“You know this is a school function? You have to sign in.”
Offering her a wide grin, he moved one suspender to the side and showed her the sticker on his chest which read Visitor. “Done. Come on, Ms. Poppins. Let’s get this show on the road.” He held out a crooked elbow and she couldn’t resist. She laced her arm through his and they stepped to the side so her teacher’s aide could lead the kids while she and Donovan followed behind.
They made light conversation as they walked the short parade route, smiling and laughing while the kids waved emphatically at all of the observers.
When the parade ended, reluctance tugged at Valerie. She wasn’t ready to end this just yet. “This was really . . . well, it was kind of amazing, Donovan.”
“I couldn’t let Mary go out without Bert to escort her.”
“You know, sometimes you’re really sweet.”
He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, whispering in her ear before he pulled away, “Only for you, sweetheart.”
Shivering, she wished they had more time to talk. But, she had twenty-three little kids waiting on her. “Come over for dinner?” she blurted.
Surprise flared in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and grinned. “I’ll be there at six.”
Without another word, he sauntered away, that familiar swagger present as he cast one look back over his shoulder. Apprehension mixed with excitement as a heated blush crept up her cheeks.
The day passed slower than any previous one in her life, each hour dragging mercilessly until she was finally able to leave. Racing home, she showered, shaved her legs, and primped like this was a first date. In a way, maybe it was. They needed something to bring them back to each other, and he’d taken the first step, made the first gesture. This was her way of reaching out.
By the time dinner was ready, the house was full of the warm aroma of tomato sauce and garlic bread. She’d opened a bottle of wine, lit some candles, and stood at the kitchen counter—waiting. Nerves spun in her belly, a tumble of anticipation. Minutes ticked by and six o’clock passed. With each second that followed, her disappointment grew heavier in her gut.
He wasn’t coming.
Pouring herself a generous helping of wine, she forced back the tears in her eyes and took a deep gulp.
Then there it was.
Three sharp raps on the front door.
Taking a deep breath, she set her glass on the counter and straightened her teal pencil-skirt before walking to answer.
As she opened the door, her stomach flipped at the sight of him. His too long hair was combed and slicked back, putting those rugged features in sharp relief. Good, God. He seemed to get more handsome every time she saw him.
“Sweetheart.”
Her smile couldn’t be contained, even though she’d been trying to keep her cool. “Hot shot. You’re ten minutes late.” Stepping back before he could pull her to him, she gestured for him to enter. “You have a key.”
He shrugged. “I can’t use it if I don’t live here.”
Shit. He was right. They seemed precariously balanced on the knife’s edge of divorce and reconciliation. She needed to remember that. They’d both hurt each other—badly. Her by kicking him out, and him . . . where did she even begin?
His fingers trailed across the bare skin of her arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. I just meant it didn’t feel right. I’ve got to earn my place back in your heart.”
Again, her stomach flipped. He’d never left but she couldn’t tell him that. He’d just broken her.
Clearing her throat, she sidestepped him and focused on getting dinner on the table. “Dinner’s ready. I hope you’re hungry.”
As she grabbed the salad bowl she felt the warmth of his big body next to hers, gathering the entree without prompting.
“Chicken parm?” he asked, amusement in his tone.
“I know it’s your favorite.”
“Thanks.”
God, this was awkward. She didn’t know how to go backward with him. He settled the serving dish in the center of the table while she placed their salad and garlic bread on either side, and they sat. Heavy silence fell between them.
Clearing his throat, he took a long drink of water and offered a weak smile. “Looks great.”
“Go ahead.” She held out the serving fork, not knowing how to move past the uncomfortable, stilted conversation.
His green eyes latched on to hers as he took the offered utensil, the brush of his fingertips sending a spark through her. To her surprise, he filled her plate with the sauce-covered chicken, followed by salad, and without asking, he replenished her wine before serving himself.
They ate in silence, casting tense glances at each other to the soundtrack of their forks and knives clinking on plates.
“This is awkward as fuck, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks heated as he echoed exactly what was on her mind.
A nervous laugh escaped her. “It really is.”
“How was the rest of your day?”
“Honestly? I was distracted . . . thinking of tonight.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh?”
She couldn’t help her giggle. “Stop it.”
“What?”
“You’re turning up the smolder. I can see it on your face.”
Sitting back, he put both hands up and feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, this is just the face God gave me. I can’t help it if I’m sexy as fuck.”
“Clearly, your confidence hasn’t been diminished.”
Those sparkling eyes dimmed just enough for her to know she’d hit a nerve. He quieted and focused on his food, taking careful bites as he polished off his serving. Pushing back the chair, he cleared his place and headed into the kitchen.
The rush of water from the sink followed by the familiar clink of dishes being loaded into the dishwasher left her feeling at ease. These small sounds helped bring everything on the path toward normal. Standing, she carried her own plate to the sink. They stood beside each other, her rinsing her dish, him scrubbing the pots and pans—a dish towel tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Comfortable. Easy. Right.
“Sweetheart, I think your plate is clean.” The rumble of his voice jolted her out of her swirling thoughts.
Looking down at her hands, she saw he was right. The plate was spotless. Placing it in the dishwasher, she dried her hands and walked away. Halfway out of the kitchen she stopped, turned, and walked straight up to him, pressing herself against his back and hugging his waist.
He stiffened in her embrace, the muscles in his shoulders tightening.
“Valer—”
“I think you should move back home.”