Chapter Twenty-Three

Love? Impossible.

Her parents were engaging in a bout of wishful thinking. At the moment, she didn’t even like him all that much.

Dennis had barely spoken to her that morning before leaving for work. After mini-golf and the ride on the Ferris Wheel, she thought maybe they’d turned a corner. Maybe he was beginning to relax around her. Maybe she’d finally, irrevocably penetrated that cold barrier he’d erected around himself.

But no. If anything, Dennis had been more brusque than ever on her second Monday morning. He’d barely looked at her, and his lips were compressed so tightly that they turned white at the edges. He looked worn down and claimed he was late, his tone conveying impatience rather than apology.

She had only herself to blame. If she hadn’t been so rattled by that kissing couple–and by Dennis’s tenderness–if she hadn’t moved away from him when that peregrine had soared over the gondola, who knew what the ride on the Ferris Wheel would have led to. It had seemed so natural at the time to marvel at the bird and distract herself from her heated urges. But she’d sat perfectly still up to that point, letting Dennis hold her and cuddle her, nuzzling his cheek against hers, giving her that tentative half-kiss on the corner of her mouth. And the instant she’d moved, all his tenderness had evaporated, run like a frightened mouse scurrying from the bird of prey.

Love? Not a chance.

Cole dragged a mountain of art supplies into the kitchen to practice for his art lesson the next day. Audrey kept one eye on Cole and one eye on the clock. Fifteen minutes until Dennis was due home. What should she say to him? What would be his mood? Why should she even think about him at all?

She didn’t know any of the answers. Oh, she knew Dennis wanted to get closer sometimes, just as she knew that he wanted to kiss her on the Ferris Wheel. But these open windows of insight into his desires were fleeting and too easily closed.

Ten minutes until Dennis would return. Cole selected a fresh sheet of yellow paper and edged it with green polka dots. Audrey watched him silently.

If she were another kind of woman, she might kiss Dennis herself and not wait for him to make the first move. But if she made the first move on him, then she would be resolving his ambivalence for him. Taking control, being a managing female, eclipsing the hope that he would figure out for himself how much he wanted her. Or even if he wanted her. That would be a mistake. He had to come around to her on his own desire. He wasn’t the kind of man who preferred to be led, even if she led him in a direction he might have gone anyway.

And what of her own ambivalence? Whatever Dennis’s reasons, she had reasons of her own. Her mother might indulge in wishful thinking that they would fall in love, but Audrey couldn’t overlook his perfectionism or his compulsive, irksome, baffling moods.

A key turned in the front door lock. Audrey popped off her barstool. If she hadn’t been so edgy, waiting for his return, she might never have heard that faint whisking sound.

“Daddy’s home,” she said to Cole.

“Goodie.” Cole traded his green crayon for a red one and peeled a bit of paper from its end.

“Hello?” Dennis called from the hall. Audrey heard the front door shut.

What should she do? Should she go out to him? She clasped her hands in front of her waist and tried to keep from skittering around the kitchen like a marble in a tin can.

“We’re in here,” she called, then sat back down on the barstool. Be calm, she told herself. Be welcoming, but be calm. Don’t scare him off again.

Dennis walked into the kitchen and leaned a hip on the breakfast bar. His arms were loaded with a stack of files and papers. He looked tired, his skin pale under his summer tan. His workload dropped with a thud onto the counter.

“What are you working on, son?”

He didn’t greet Audrey. She clenched her fingers tightly together.

“A design. Not a picture.”

Dennis plucked a sky blue crayon from the pile, rolling it gently between his long fingers. Back and forth, between index finger and thumb, the gesture like an unthinking caress. He dropped the crayon as if he’d made a decision.

“Audrey, may I have a word with you?”

He still didn’t look at her. She slid off the barstool and followed him into the hall. Why did she have to let his moods have such an effect on her? This wasn’t healthy. And it had to stop. She drew a deep breath and reached inside her heart for some measure of her typical good cheer. She wouldn’t let him break her heart. She wouldn’t.

He didn’t speak until the kitchen door swung shut. He sounded and looked exhausted, and maybe even a little sad.

“Cole’s birthday is next Monday, a week from today. I’m planning a small gathering here. Cake and candles, nothing too extravagant. I can’t do more because I have to go to New York the next day. Will you join us?”

“I’d be delighted.” She meant it, too. Despite whatever her traitorous heart might be doing, she still loved Cole.

“Good. Cole is so attached to you. This will mean a lot to him.”

She noticed that he didn’t include himself in those observations. Well, fine. She’d accepted for Cole’s sake, and he’d asked for Cole’s sake. Fine.

“Is there anything in particular he might like for a gift?”

“Gifts. I haven’t had time to think about gifts. I was hoping to get to the toy store one day this week, but my schedule is so packed.” His voice drifted off tiredly. He rubbed one hand over the top of his head, and that lock of hair fell in a curl onto his forehead.

“Why not take care of it this weekend?”

“I don’t have anyone to watch him.”

“I could swing by for a bit on Saturday.”

Some of the fatigue lines around his eyes softened. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“It’s his birthday.” She thought something more needed to be said. “You know, he means a lot to me, too.”

“I thought so.” Relief tinged Dennis’s voice, and he met her eyes without evasion for the first time that day. “I mean, I hoped so. Thank you, Audrey.”

She tilted her chin up to him and felt her hands relaxing. His dark eyes drifted to a point beyond her shoulder. The tired lines resettled around his mouth.

“I wish,” he said, but stopped himself.

Enough of this dancing around details. “You wish what?” Tell me. Share your thoughts with me. End the mystery.

He sighed deeply and shook his head. “I wish I didn’t have this mountain of work to deal with right now. And I’m sure you have plenty of other things requiring your attention.”

It was a dismissal. What was more, she knew it wasn’t what he’d started to say. Okay, so he didn’t want to share his wishes with her. But maybe she could keep him talking for a bit longer.

“Who else will be at the party?” she asked. “Your family?”

But it was the wrong thing to say. Dennis frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Audrey shrugged, but knots twisted her guts. “I don’t know. Cole talks about his Nana and Papa so much.”

His scowl deepened. For once, she found herself wishing for his blank, cold mask. She shouldn’t have said anything. He’d already told her he had to keep the party small because of his work commitments, and he’d sounded genuinely remorseful about it. He must think she was criticizing him. Again. It seemed that every other time she opened her mouth, he reacted as if she’d criticized his parenting skills.

Some people are just too sensitive. But she feared the opposite was true, that she was too insensitive to his honest desire to be a good father.

“I have work to do,” Dennis said. “And I’m sure you’re eager to leave.”

“Right.” It was a dismissal, and one she probably deserved. She pushed open the kitchen door and saw Cole sucking on the tip of a black crayon.

“Cole, I have to go now. See you tomorrow, okay?”

He swiveled his head to look at her. “Okay, bye.” Flecks of black wax clung to his teeth.

“And don’t eat the crayons, buddy.”

“What?” Dennis muttered behind her. She sensed his bulk looming over her shoulder. “Cole, get that thing out of your mouth.”

His tone was edged with the kind of impatience that came from exhaustion. Audrey suppressed a sigh and slipped away from him. Maybe it was just as well that she was leaving. Heaven alone knew what effect his mood would have on her if she spent any more time with him tonight. She had to figure out a way to be less reactive to his moods.

Like maybe not being around for his moods.

She gathered her tote bag from the usual spot next to the hall table. Dennis’s footsteps approached from behind, but she didn’t pause. His shadow bloomed on the white wall beside the door, pale and featureless. She started through the door and tried to read the dim shape on the plaster.

On the wall, his shadow hand reached for her. The dusky shape of his fingers elongated as she slipped through the door and out of his reach.