Chapter Seventeen

 

 

For what must’ve been the seven-billionth time that morning, the needle pierced the silk fabric and Shea pulled the thread taut. The work was beyond tedious. The pads of his fingers stung from the endless chain of tiny jabs into his flesh and his shoulders and back muscles ached from his prolonged inactivity and hunched posture.

But then, he felt the warm touch of her gaze and the pain vanished. He looked up in time to catch a glimpse of soft gray eyes before her lashes swept down to rest on her flushed cheeks.

A wide smile broke across his face. His plan was working. He’d breached her defenses, not by force or coercion, but by good old-fashioned persuasion, with a hint of flirtation thrown into the mix.

While she’d opened the gates and let him in, where once he would’ve maneuvered to conquer, now he waited. He’d made his choice. Soon, she would need to make hers. Either she’d choose to come the rest of the way back to him, willingly, or she would not, but the decision belonged to her.

He was playing for keeps, not for a temporary truce or a cease-fire that lasted only until the next fight, the next separation, the next divorce filing. She must accept him, welcome him into her heart, with all his imperfections and weaknesses, or she’d never really be his.

Commitments kept Mina and Emily away the previous two days, so he and Isobel worked alone. Throughout the long hours, they kept up their dance of stolen glances and secret smiles until a delicious tension stretched between them.

Content to let the heat simmer, he remained planted on the stool before the beaded wedding dress, dutifully stitching tiny crystals into place in accordance of Isobel’s pattern, until late in the day when he left to pick up Connor and Maisie from school and daycare.

At home, he made a quick dinner, suffering a moment of stunned speechlessness when Finn emerged from behind his bedroom door and joined his younger siblings at the kitchen island. He even made eye contact a couple of times while he scarfed down a healthy serving of mac and cheese and coaxed Connor into eating his broccoli with a ridiculous, seemingly well-practiced, pirate routine.

After bath and bedtime, Shea made the short drive downtown and arrived at the loft an hour or so past sunset to find Isobel on the floor before one of the dresses making small stitches along the skirt’s hem.

While he’d been away, she’d set up three more dress forms, which now displayed the two gowns Mina and Emily had dropped off and the pale pink dress Vanessa had lauded that day at the store.

A little more than a week had passed since Vanessa made her incredible offer, and in that short time, he and Isobel had accomplished so much together. Right before their eyes was proof that they were good together. That they belonged together. Even she must see that now.

“What do you think?” he asked, crossing the large space. “Are we going to make it?”

“It’s going to be close.” Isobel climbed to her feet and stretched, giving him a tantalizing view of her uplifted breasts. “I think I’ll be sewing beads on that bodice the whole time the photographer’s taking pictures.”

When he reached her side, he noticed lines of fatigue around her eyes. “Have you eaten?”

“I had some chips a little while ago.”

“Why don’t we go downstairs and get you a bite to eat before the kitchen closes?”

She groaned. “I should work.”

He dropped his chin and leveled her with a stern look. “You need food—real food—or you’re not going to last another hour.”

She’d already let down her messy bun and was combing her fingers through the tangled tresses.

He watched her closely. “Besides, it’s a special occasion.”

Her hands stilled above her head.

“Or did you forget?”

Pulling the heavy mass of her dark hair over one shoulder, her fingers worked through a snarl. “How could I forget our wedding anniversary?”

A secret smile passed between them, then their gazes slid apart.

“It’s getting late,” she said, glancing at the wall clock. “You’re going to run out of time to claim your kiss today.”

His breath snagged in his throat. “The night’s not over yet.”

“You’ve never waited this long before.”

Satisfaction kicked in his veins. “Maybe I’m holding out for a reason.”

“What reason?” she asked, her voice suddenly, slightly breathy.

Uncertainty gripped him and hesitated. “How about a date?”

Her lush mouth screwed into a contemplative frown. “That’d be what, our third date?”

“That’s not true.” Dismay crashed into him. “Is that true?”

She nodded. “It’s true.”

“That’s fecking terrible.”

Her husky laugh tugged at his groin.

Growing serious, he made a show of clearing his throat. “Isobel, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon. I thought that was pretty good.”

A sound suspiciously like a giggle leaked out of her. “I will go on a date with you, but dinner tonight doesn’t count.” One of her small hands swept down her body. “I’m wearing yoga pants, and I haven’t even combed my hair today.”

With difficulty, he dragged his gaze away from her sleek black leggings and back to her face. “We’ll consider tonight a practice run, then.”

Pleasure pinkened her cheeks. “A practice date?”

“Might be fun.”

She arched one dark eyebrow at him. “Might be as disastrous as our other dates.”

“All three of them were disasters?”

“Well, no.” The color on her cheeks deepened. “Our second date was quite nice, actually.”

“Quite nice?” He cringed. “You gotta give me chance to redeem myself.”

Her light, lyrical laughter was contagious and his own smile lingered when they arrived downstairs.

The dinner rush had ended and a boisterous Saturday night crowd packed the bar. Then he heard it. The whispers. He glanced around the dining room at the curious gazes fastened boldly on them. They didn’t even try to hide their prying.

Damn small towns.

He reached for her hand, drawing her close. “You okay?” he asked, his mouth near her temple.

Beneath her caramel complexion, she’d paled, but she nodded and clasped his hand tight.

“Because if it bothers you, we can leave.”

When she glanced up at him, mischief glinted in her eyes. “Or we could give them something to talk about.”

His large hand touched her face and he leaned close, but before he claimed his wife’s soft mouth, movement from the corner of his eye stopped him.

Heather drew up when she spotted him.

“Hey, Boss.” Her gaze bounced from him to Isobel and back again. “I was beginning to wonder if we should file a missing person’s report.”

Reluctantly, Shea straightened away from Isobel. “Miss me?”

“Not even a little,” Heather said brightly.

He laid a hand over his still-thundering heart. “Ouch.”

Her full-throated laugh rang out. “What I meant is you’ve trained us well and we’re a finely tuned machine. I even finished payroll. You wanna sign it while you’re here?”

“Not right now.” He glanced at Isobel, who watched him with soft gray eyes. “I’m on a practice date with my wife.”

Through her smile, Heather’s brow furrowed. “What’s a practice date?”

“Never mind.”

“Hi, Iz.” Heather’s smile warmed. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Isobel touched his arm. “Go sign payroll. I don’t mind.”

“What are the rules to this dating thing? I’m not supposed to work, am I?”

“I’ll time you. You have five minutes starting—” She swiped a finger across her cell phone’s screen. “—now.”

In his office, Heather’s payroll report lay on his desk and he glanced over the information. He made sure Heather had enough hours to support her and her young son, but not so many that she couldn’t ever be home with him, and that everyone else had a good ratio of hours to days off.

When he reached the bottom of the page, he frowned. Then he started again at the top and worked his way back down the list.

His frown deepened. The entire staff was accounted for, all except Aiden.

He found Heather mixing a drink behind the bar. “Where’s Aiden?”

She jerked her head over her shoulder. “Over there talking to Isobel.”

He held up the payroll report. “No, I mean why isn’t he on the payroll? Shouldn’t he have made it into this week’s check run?”

She stuck a paper umbrella into the fruity concoction. “He hasn’t completed his paperwork yet. I told him he needs to bring me a copy of his social security card before I can pay him. I’ll remind him again.”

Shea signed the report and left it on his desk for Heather to process, then returned to the restaurant where Isobel had snagged them a booth along the far wall.

He wound his way across the room to her.

Midway to sitting, he froze. “What’s wrong?”

“There you are.” The recognizable female voice grated along his spine and explained the stricken look on Isobel’s face. “Where have you been hiding?”

The wave of dread knocked him the rest of the way to sitting.

Amber Jessop, a black hole of toxicity and the one woman who could destroy all the progress he’d made with his wife, sidled up to their table.

He stopped her with a look. “This isn’t a good time, Amber.”

Placing a hand on her hip, she planted her breasts in his face. “You’ll never guess who finally made partner.”

“I don’t care.”

Shrewd dark eyes narrowed at him. “Of course you do. It’s obvious you miss the mental challenge of law. Your mind needs the stimulation.” She cast a side-eyed glance at Isobel. “You know what they say about the brain being the largest erogenous zone in the body.”

“You haven’t seen my other erogenous zone.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No,” he snapped, his patience running out.

“Oh my.” She leaned close to rub his shoulders. “So tense and grumpy.”

Shea’s voice shook with the effort not to reach out and strangle her when he warned, “Do not touch me.”

With a nervous laugh that lacked humor, Amber removed her hands from his body. “Fine, you tease.”

He rolled his shoulders, as if to shake off the contamination from her unwanted caress. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my wife and I are trying to have dinner.”

Amber’s mouth turned down with an insincere pout. “I heard about the divorce. I know how much you both must be hurting.”

“We’re not divorced,” Isobel declared with a strength in her voice that would’ve thrilled him, but for the unspoken “yet” she left hanging at the end of her pronouncement.

Amber ignored Isobel and focused her calculating gaze on him instead. “Let me know if you want to talk. When the divorce is final, of course. We can… talk. All night long.”

Laughter burst from Isobel. “Wow. Amber, that was… incredible. You didn’t sound desperate at all. A touch creepy, but overall a great performance. Honestly, well done.”

A priceless scowl contorted Amber’s features.

Isobel waggled her fingers. “Now shoo. My husband needs to eat so he has enough energy later tonight.”

The seductive once-over she gave him then made his cock jump. But the triumph of Amber’s hasty retreat was short-lived.

In the wake of her departure, a heavy, awkward silence settled over the table.

“You okay?”

Isobel’s dark head bobbed.

In his chest, a hard knot squeezed. “Do you want to go?”

She shook her head.

“Look, don’t let her get to you. That’s what she wants. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”

Huge round eyes twisted his insides. “You and she haven’t… been together?”

He reared back. “What? Jesus, no. Of course not.”

She pretended great interest in the menu. The menu she’d created. “It’s been two years. I don’t expect that you’ve remained celibate.”

Furious grief slashed through him. “Are you serious right now?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of infidelity. She’d done so exactly once before.

The day he’d moved out.

“Are you having an affair?”

He stilled, frozen like a marble statue while a fire raged through him.

“How could you ask me that?” The words snapped like the crack of a whip. “How could you even think it?”

He moved deeper into their bedroom.

She stumbled back. “You lied to me about your job. What else are you lying to me about?”

A flicker of shame prickled across his face and neck, but his white-hot fury pushed out all else. “I didn’t want you to worry. You needed to focus on your health. On the baby—”

“You should have told me!”

“I’ve given you my life,” he seethed. “Every all-nighter and eighty-hour work week was for you. All the months I lived on that fucking freighter were for you. I gave up everything for you. So we could build this house. So you would be happy.”

So I would be worthy of you.

“I didn’t want that.” Tears ran in rivulets down her pale face. “I never asked you for any of it.”

“Then what do you want?” The words erupted from him as a desperate cry. “What could I have possibly given you that would have made you happy?”

“I never asked you for any of those things. Now you blame me as if I did? That isn’t fair, Shea.”

“You just accused me of cheating on you. Don’t you dare talk to me about fair.”

A sob shook her shoulders. “If you’re so miserable, why don’t you leave? Just go.”

So he did.

He blinked until the nightmare dissolved.

With a defeated sigh, she abandoned the menu. “I don’t know if I’m serious. I’m tired and—”

“What do we have here?” A female voice drew near. “Why if it isn’t my two new favorite people.”

Shea struggled to gain his feet on shifting ground as he looked up to find Vanessa swooping down on their table, a wineglass posed between her manicured fingers.

Isobel’s spine snapped straight. “Vanessa, hi.”

“Did Jen call you?” Vanessa wanted to know. “Are you all set for your interview? How about Marcus? When’s he coming for the photoshoot?”

Isobel swallowed thickly. “Later this week.”

“Fantastic. I’m so excited for you.” While Vanessa sipped from her wineglass, her gaze shifted between them. She swallowed and struck a deceptively casual posture. “So, you two doing okay? Everything good?”

“Great. Everything’s great. We’re great. Aren’t we, Sweetie?” Isobel’s stiff smile and stilted words dragged a grunt from him.

“Great,” he muttered.

At least, things were great, up until the point when all their baggage had suddenly come hurtling back at them. All it took was one random encounter and the past hurts and injustices had risen up to stab and pierce the tentative bond they’d managed to forge.

Anger gnawed at him. Never in her life had she called him Sweetie.

“We’re celebrating our wedding anniversary,” Isobel blurted.

Vanessa cut off the healthy swig of wine she’d just taken. “No way. How many years?”

He captured his wife’s gaze and held it. “Eighteen.”

Vanessa gasped and laid a hand over her heart. “Eighteen years. The porcelain year.”

Porcelain. Like a toilet. Seemed fitting.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Darling, it’s been a treat meeting you.” Vanessa tossed a couple of air kisses at Isobel and then gave Shea a wink. “You, too, handsome. You kids have fun tonight.”

Vanessa drifted away and when she was out of earshot, Isobel mumbled, “Can we just go?”

Relief washed over him and he followed her to the exit. In his truck, the tension was stifling and the moment they reached safety inside the house, Isobel careened toward the hall.

“Aren’t we going to talk about this?” he said to her retreating back.

She barely broke stride. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Who’s the one walking away now?”

Predictably, she whirled on him. “Fine. What do you want to talk about, Shea?”

“You’re upset. Why?”

“I’m not upset. I’m tired.” To mask the lie, she gave him her back and fled.

He pursued her to their bedroom, enjoying the flash of her anger when he stepped inside the room and eased the door closed behind him. It was better than the stony-faced look of helplessness she’d worn all the way home, as if their relationship was too far gone to save and she’d given up on them.

She folded her arms over her stomach, shielding herself. “Why don’t you go find Amber? It’d be so easy for you to be with her.”

His jaw clenched so tightly he feared he might grind his molars to dust. “I don’t want Amber,” he bit out. “I want you.”

“Now,” she sniped. “But what about later?”

Frustrated fury lashed at him. “What do you want me to say? Whatever it is, I’ll say it.”

“Tell me why.” Her voice shattered with her sob. “Why did you leave me?”

“Why did you let me go?” The words erupted from his bleeding heart.

“Was it because of her? Did you leave me to be with her?”

“No.” He took a step toward her.

She stumbled back. “Then why?”

“Because you told me to.” The excuse was empty. Hollow. “And I was wrong.”

He shoved a hand into his hair and tugged at the ends.

Just then, as he watched, her expression changed, and his hand stilled.

She blinked at him with wide, unfathomable eyes. “I was testing you.”

Slowly, his hand dropped to his side. “What did you say?”

“It’s true. It was a test. To see if you were like my dad.” Her features twisted with agony. “You failed.”

“I want a do-over.”

She scoffed. “That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?” His jaw ticked with his building rage. “You made up the game. You can change the rules.”

“Even if I hadn’t told you to leave, you would’ve left me anyway.” Bitterness infected her tone. “You were miserable.”

A nasty curse escaped him and he balled his hands into tight fists. He wanted shake her to make her stop saying such awful things. Or punch a hole in the wall. Instead, he stared hard into her small pale face.

Above the defiant set of her mouth, terror swirled in her eyes.

She was testing him again now. No matter what he said, she’d throw it back at him. She’d push him until he said something he’d regret. Something that would hurt beyond the moment. She wanted him to prove himself to her, and by God, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

He’d seen it before. She wanted a fight, and she was purposefully antagonizing him to get it. The way Leo used to do. The same way she did the day he left.

This time he wouldn’t give her what she wanted. The storm wasn’t inside him this time. It was inside her.

The fight left his body in a rush.

“I wasn’t unhappy with you. Or the kids,” he said quietly. “I wish you’d given me a chance to explain that, but honestly, I’m not sure I could have. Not then.”

He rested his hand on the doorknob.

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Panic shredded her voice, but she quickly recovered with a cool glare. “I knew you would.”

He reached her in two strides. Slipping his hand under her chin, he gently brought her eyes to his. “I am not leaving you. I’m not even leaving the house. But it’s late and we’re both upset, so I’m going to sleep on the couch downstairs, and in the morning, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

She jerked her chin from his grasp. “Don’t bother.”

He gripped her nape and tugged her to him. Covering her mouth with his, he swallowed her protests. Captured by his hand, she didn’t move he soothed her with his tongue and wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

When he lifted his head, she gazed up at him, her eyes darkened with her dilated pupils.

“You haven’t been able to run me off yet, mo chroí. What makes you think you can do so now?”

Her lips moved wordlessly as she appeared to grapple for an answer and finding none that suited her.

“The fact is, you won’t win this fight.” His gaze latched onto her mouth and he scraped his thumb across her succulent bottom lip.

She tilted her chin, offering herself up to him.

Because he couldn’t resist her, he took one light little taste of her, then pulled back.

His mouth hovering above hers, he murmured, “Sleep tight, my sweet wife. In the morning, I’ll be here, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”

Then he left her standing at their bedroom door, flustered and yearning for his kiss.