— SEVEN —
PART of starting anew with Liv would also have to be repairing his relationship with his mother, because eventually he was going to have to ask her to be nice to his wife. So without a plan but with a clear mission, he headed over to his parents’ house a few days later, when he knew Dani had an evening shift. The last thing he needed was to have mother and daughter picking sides and hollering at each other over his head. Besides, he wasn’t going to dive right into the Liv conversation. That could come later.
Unfortunately, his mother did not get that memo. He found her in the kitchen baking bread. She barely let him sit down before serving the first volley. “According to Toni Ross, you were seen leaving your former residence at four in the morning on Sunday.”
“Is that right?” Rafe couldn’t care less what the uptight shrew across the road from Olivia thought of his comings and goings. For that matter, he didn’t really care what his mother thought either. He didn’t bother to set the record straight that he’d just walked Liv to her door, and it was closer to midnight than four a.m.—and Dean had been sitting in the truck the whole time. She wouldn’t believe him.
“It’s not the first talk of a reunion that I’ve heard about.”
“We’re not reuniting, Ma.” Not yet. They were just…rediscovering each other. Maybe. Liv still hadn’t given him a clear answer on if she’d be at the stag and doe. The next time he saw her, he was going to get her to say yes.
“So if someone said they saw you kissing in the woods behind the diner?”
It would, strictly speaking, be a lie. “I haven’t kissed Olivia in two years.” She kissed me a week ago, but I kept my hands mostly to myself.
“That city girl has you wrapped around her finger, Rafe. It’s not healthy.”
“Ma, you can’t talk about Liv that way.”
“I’m your mother. I can talk about whatever I want.”
“Not if you want me to listen.” He shook his head. “You’re the only person who never welcomed her to Pine Harbour.”
“I gave her a job!”
“So you could keep her close and monitor her every activity.”
She gasped. “Rafaelo, that’s not true.”
“No?” He stood up and grabbed his jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Something I should have done two years ago. Setting some boundaries.”
“This isn’t very mature.” Her voice slithered under his skin, the reproach making him doubt himself for a second before she made his point for him. “Besides, she never embraced our family.”
“Why was it her job to build the bridge?” She didn’t have an answer for that. Obviously didn’t think she needed one, because she waited until he winced in apology. “I’m sorry, Ma. Look, I need you to dial it back. I’d prefer if you actually tried to make an effort to like her—”
She sniffed. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I hate her. I don’t, you know.”
“It never felt like that to Liv.” He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t feel like that to me, either, I gotta tell you. Maybe if I’d said something early on, Liv wouldn’t have left me.”
Silence was rare in the Minelli household, but it was never a good thing. This was no exception. His mother’s back stiffened and she resumed her kneading, this time without the commentary on his life. Which is what he wanted. Too bad thirty-one years of conditioning had trained him to feel badly for hurting her feelings.
“Ma…”
“Don’t Ma me, Rafe.” Her voice was cold and stiff.
“Maybe this isn’t an all-in-one-day kind of conversation.” He waited for her to say something, anything, but she’d returned to the silent treatment. He thought about getting up and leaving but that didn’t help Liv at all. Or himself. “Ma, I’ve missed feeling welcome here.”
“You’re always welcome. You should have moved here instead of that stupid apartment. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel like a stranger in your parents’ home.”
“I couldn’t. A part of me hoped it would be temporary.” And moving home would have underlined all of Liv’s fears about Rafe prioritizing his family over her.
“But it wasn’t. Doesn’t that tell you something about her character?”
“Sure does. It tells me she’s got backbone and self-respect.”
“You have no clue what it takes to make a marriage work for almost forty years. And if you think I don’t have a backbone—”
What the hell? “I wasn’t talking about you, Ma.” Not exactly. Without a doubt, Anne Minelli was tough as nails. “But you seem to have this idea that the perfect woman for me—for Zander and Tom, too, probably—is an empty vessel who can take on all our wants and make them her own. That’s not real life.”
“You’re a good man. And you deserve a good woman at your side, not one who’s going to walk away.”
“She wasn’t happy.”
“So? You think I’m always happy?”
No. His parents fought like cats and dogs at times. But they didn’t seem to hate fighting the same way he and Liv had. “That’s different. You guys always make up. Our fights…each one sucked a little more life out of our marriage.”
“Then she should have—”
“What, Ma? What could she have possibly done?” He was yelling now but he didn’t care.
Anne rolled her dough one last time and dropped the round, raw loaf in a baking pan. “She could have refused to let you go.”
Something in her voice gave him pause and he sat back down. “What’s going on, Ma?”
“When you were a baby, your father…” She wiped her hands and leaned back against the counter. “This goes no further than this room, you hear?” She pointed her finger sternly in his direction and he nodded, struck dumb and unable to respond with any words. “He left me. Life with a wife and two young boys wasn’t all the fun and games he thought it would be, and he wanted out.”
Disgust at his father roiled in Rafe’s gut. “No.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t take him back if he did that.”
“Take him back? I dragged him back. He was done.” She frowned. “And that would have been the end of our love story if I’d let him go.”
Memories from his childhood slammed into Rafe. His parents necking in the kitchen…the look of joy on his father’s face when Anne told him, in front of their three boys, that she was pregnant again…whispered plans for birthdays and Mother’s Days, year after year. “He loves you so much.”
She nodded. “He does.”
“And he left you?”
“It was a moment of weakness, Rafe. And not one he’s proud of, which is why I’ve never told any of you about it.”
He closed his eyes. “And you think that Liv and I…”
“It’s not the same thing. You don’t have children. But neither of you fought for your marriage. So no, I can’t respect her. You…well, you’re just lucky you’re my son. Because I don’t respect you for letting her go, either.”
“Even though you don’t like her?” He opened his eyes and shook his head in confusion.
“I liked her just fine. She should’ve cooked more and not been so damn resistant to having babies, but she was your wife and she made you happy. But now she’s dead to me.”
“Well, she’s not dead to me, so cut that out.”
“I just want you to be happy. Staying hung up on your ex-wife impedes that.”
“She’s my wife, Ma. The ex part is a legal technicality. There is no one else for me, don’t you get that?”
A pin could have dropped and he would have heard it in the long pause before his mother started yelling at him. “No, you idiot! I don’t get that. Are you planning to be miserable for the rest of your life? If she’s it for you, then you’ve made a giant—no, colossal—error of judgement in signing damned divorce papers. You. Are. A. Fool.”
He started laughing. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.”
“It’s not funny. I don’t approve of how you two have carried on, but if she’s the one for you, then you need to fight for her.”
“I know. I’m working on it. But she’s skittish, as you can well imagine. I promise you, I’m not going to stay wrapped up in her if at the end of the day she won’t take me back. But I think she will.”
His mother poured him another cup of coffee, a silent sign of approval. She shrugged when he wrinkled his brow. “What?”
“You really don’t object?” He found it hard to believe that he’d been so wrong about how she felt about his wife.
His mother rolled her eyes again. “Drink your coffee and stop being ridiculous.”
— —
Olivia had seen Rafe three times that week. Each time, her heart had skipped a beat and her stomach had pitched itself into her throat. He hadn’t come in to the diner for breakfast. He just grabbed coffee to go twice, each time flashing a smile so sexy it melted another layer of her resolve not to have anything to do with him. And the third time they’d bumped into each other in Wiarton, the larger town thirty minutes south where Rafe’s detachment was located. She’d stopped for a coffee at Tim Horton’s on her way back from doing her weekly big shop in Owen Sound.
Her routine hadn’t changed in four years. When they first got married, they’d shared a car, so their big shops had to happen when Rafe had a day off, or he’d go at the end of a shift if he wasn’t too tired. But for their second wedding anniversary, he’d surprised her with a new-to-them second car—a five-year-old Honda Civic that she still drove today. That had been the golden period in their marriage. The fighting started a year later, when he’d worked a double shift over the same weekend and didn’t remember their anniversary until she tersely pointed it out four days late.
Every Wednesday she worked a short shift, so she took the afternoon to head south. When they’d been together, she would have looked for his cruiser, that familiar black and white shape that made her so proud. And once they’d split, she’d look for it in a different way—a mix of longing and apprehension that filled her with sorrow. The Bruce Peninsula detachment had a lot of area to cover, so the chances of him randomly being in the same place as her were slim to none. Over time, she’d stopped looking.
So when someone tapped her on the shoulder as she stood in line for coffee, she thought maybe she’d dropped some money. Instead she got a face full of navy blue flak jacket. She tilted her head up and was rewarded with a slow grin that said Rafe remembered just how much she liked his uniform. She blushed. “Coffee break?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. Maybe he liked the way she’d pinked up. She liked remembering how she used to strip him out of the uniform when he wore it home. He cleared his throat and leaned in close. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might need to forgo the coffee and drag you back to my cruiser so we can make out a little.”
God, that thought made her a little lightheaded. But it also made her laugh, which was a good thing. She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, Rafe.”
He grinned wider still. “Yes, baby?”
“Nothing.” Nothing. She needed to remember that.
“I like it when you say my name like that.”
“I didn’t say it like anything.”
“Mmm, I disagree. I heard a breathy little catch there.” He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “And I liked it. A lot.”
He needed to stop before she did something stupid. She lowered her voice and tried to sound stern. “Rafe.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I like it like that, too.”
“You’re incorrigible.” It was her turn to order, so she gratefully accepted the distraction and paid for a coffee and a small box of donut holes. She moved out of the way so Rafe could order, but she couldn’t force her feet to march out the door and over to her car. Go, she told herself fiercely. Stop flirting with your ex. She should pick a fight with him instead. That was the proper order of things. They broke up because he worked too much and she always came last in his priority list—if she rated at all. They should talk about that, not how much he liked it when she said his name.
He turned from the counter and nodded to an empty bank of tables. “I’ve got five minutes, want to sit?”
As she was a total glutton for punishment, she followed him.
“Grocery shopping trip?” he asked as they settled in opposite seats.
She lifted one brow in mock surprise. Of course he remembered, but she didn’t need to give him that inch. He’d already declared a freaking courting season, for goodness sake.
They talked about nothing and everything. She couldn’t concentrate on words when, with the addition of his uniform, his everyday dark good looks were transformed into pure bad-ass sex appeal. It didn’t help that he kept glancing at her out from under long, thick eyelashes. The looks were pure intent, nothing coy about them, and she was grateful he had to get back to work soon.
“Last weekend was fun,” he finally said, turning the conversation to them. Them. Jeez, she didn’t want to discuss the electricity zinging back and forth. “Have you given any thought to bumping into each other at Neil and Becca’s stag and doe?”
So much thought she’d been worried she might spontaneously combust. “Not really, I’ve been busy.”
His lips twisted in disbelief. “Yeah, I bet.”
She bristled, welcoming the affront because it was a more effective shield against his full-court press than her willpower. “I really have been.”
He frowned. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Liv.”
“I know.” She bit back a sigh. It didn’t matter. “Listen, I’ve got cold stuff in the car, so—“
“Wait.” He slid one strong hand down her arm and loosely manacled her wrist with a loop of two fingers.
“I can’t.” On any level. She couldn’t risk her heart again.
“Tell me how the new job is going.” He stroked his fingertips back and forth over the inside of her wrist.
She ignored the fluttery joy that sprang to life at his simple touch and tugged her hand back to her side of the table. “You tell me how your jobs are going.”
He accepted her mulish question and considered his response for a minute before telling her a few things. Probably nothing more than was published in the police beat report in the weekly paper, but still offered readily enough—something that had been missing when they were married. If she had the same agenda Rafe did, she’d accept the baby step in the right direction.
But she wasn’t a fool. They had no real future, and she wasn’t going to pussyfoot around their problems for a doomed affair. He might think he was playing for keeps again, but Olivia knew the truth. He was still hung up on them. They’d been good together, when it wasn’t awful. That desire needed to be excised, and not in a misguided reunion attempt. She braced herself for the lecture that was about to land on her. “What about the big bust two weeks ago?”
His shoulders flexed as he took a deep breath in and held it. His dark eyes lost their playful light and he stared at her for a long minute before lowering his voice and answering her in a clipped, angry burst. “You know better than to ask about that, Liv.”
“Everyone is talking about it.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“It’s not safe for anyone to think that my wife knows anything—“
“Stop,” she cut him off in a rush. “Just…stop calling me that.”
“No.” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and hooded his gaze. He was still tense, but he wasn’t yelling at her. Maybe they should have had more of their fights in public. Although that had never stopped him at the diner. Maybe it was because he was in uniform.
She’d always respected that he needed to focus on work, and a deep sense of shame washed through her gut that she’d slipped now after all this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything about the bust. I’m going to go.” She pushed up to a stand and this time he didn’t reach out to stop her. He let his words do the heavy lifting instead.
“You’ll always be my wife.” His voice was rough and tense, and then he stood and stepped right into her personal space. “And because of that, you can ask me whatever you want. I need to do better by you on that front. Listen more. But baby, there are some things I can’t tell you. That I won’t tell you. And you can be pissed at me about that all you want, but this time I’m not walking away because you’re mad at me.”
They were almost the right words. Beautiful, perfect words that made her heart swell and her sex clench. Stupid heart, stupid sex. Her head knew better. This had been a nothing conversation and it had put him on edge. If she let him close, it wouldn’t take long for all the old hurt to bubble up and boil over. And he’d leave her again in a heartbeat.
“Fool me once, Rafe…You can try your damnedest, but there won’t be a this time.”
His jaw pulsed hard. But then instead of biting out a retort, he slid his sunglasses back on and smiled. “Keep saying my name, baby. As long as my name is on your lips, I’ve got hope we’re going to make it.”
— —
He knew Liv thought he was delusional. He didn’t care.
When he saw her car outside the coffee shop, he hadn’t really thought about pulling in—he’d just done it, like a moth to a flame. Except no matter what she thought, there was nothing destructive about their love. They just hadn’t known what to expect the first time around. They hadn’t dated, not really. From the first night, he’d had the looming deadline of heading back up north in his head, and it hadn’t taken long to decide he wanted to take her with him.
And then he lost her, and like a fool, he thought that would sort itself out.
So now they had another looming deadline. Six months instead of three. Too many similarities, really, but he was six years older and at least a little bit wiser. This time he was going to show her what he was offering.
It might not be what she wanted, not exactly, but it was what they both needed.
And for that reason, he had no doubt she’d show up at the legion for the stag and doe on Saturday night. Because he was her flame just as much as she was his.