SHE LEAPED TO her feet as if she’d been scalded.
This time he didn’t try to stop her, even though he could happily have gotten used to the feel of her on his lap. For a moment, as he’d felt her relax into him, he’d had a tantalizing glimpse of the possible, but now the barriers were up again. She put a firewall between herself and the world.
“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up now. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know. You never do, but this time you’re going to.” He stood, too, determined that this time she wasn’t going to walk away. “You owe me that. You owe me a conversation.” He closed his hands over her shoulders and she tried to shrug him off.
“We’ve been divorced ten years. I don’t owe you anything. Dammit, Seth, this is my problem. I handle it the way I choose to handle it.”
He wondered if she even realized that she didn’t really handle difficult things. She buried them.
“Do you know what the real problem is? The fact that you think it’s your problem. It was my baby, too. The fact that you had a miscarriage was our problem, Fliss. Ours. But you refused to share it. You shut me out.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Well, whoever’s problem it was, it’s in the past so there’s no point in talking about it now. I can’t do this. Don’t push me on it.”
He knew that this was exactly the right time to push her. If he waited for her to pull herself together again, to regain her strength, she’d do what she always did. Retreat, leaving him on the outside. It was a cold, lonely place, and he was damned if he was going to find himself exiled there again.
“If it’s in the past, why were you crying yourself dry?”
“Because I’m tired.”
“That’s only the second time in my life I’ve seen you cry.” He wondered if she’d remember the first time and saw from the quick look she sent him that she had.
“I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to think. It would help if you didn’t stand so close.”
“My standing this close is bothering you?”
“Yes, it’s bothering me!”
“I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“How can it be a good sign?” She shook her head. “Leave me alone.”
“I did that once before. It was a mistake. Everyone makes them, but I generally try to avoid making the same mistake twice.” And with her he’d made big ones. Huge. He’d thought he was so mature. So experienced. But he hadn’t had the experience or maturity to handle a woman as complex as her.
Now he did.
She dug her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs. “It wasn’t a mistake. You did the right thing.” She’d kicked off her shoes and was barefoot, but that didn’t surprise him.
She’d spent half her summers barefoot, her toes dusted with sand.
It had taken him a while to figure out that when she came to the Hamptons she wasn’t just throwing off her shoes, she was throwing off her life.
“No, I didn’t. I did what you wanted me to. Not the same thing. And by the time I realized my mistake I couldn’t get near you. Between your sister and your Rottweiler brother—” He saw alarm flash in her eyes.
“He doesn’t know about the baby. I never told him.”
“I figured that out a long time ago. What I had a harder time understanding was why you didn’t tell him.”
“Because he was already mad at you. If he’d known I was pregnant—”
“I would have handled it. I would have handled him.”
She shook her head. “Daniel has always been protective, but back then—”
“I understand. He’s your big brother. It was his job to stop you being hurt, but once we got involved it was my job, too. I would have protected you.”
“I didn’t want that. I ruined your life, Seth. You should hate me.”
He couldn’t have been more shocked.
“This is the reason you’ve been avoiding me? Because you think you ruined my life?”
“Partly.”
“Do I look ruined to you?”
Her gaze met his. “No.”
“Because I’m not. I’m older and wiser, I hope. But not ruined.” He could hear the rapid snatch of her breath above the rolling crash of the waves.
“Do you ever wish—” She stopped, that tantalizing half sentence hovering in the air between them, leaving him wondering what the other half would have been.
Over the past ten years he’d wished a thousand things. He’d wished their relationship hadn’t been so intense, that they’d met later when they were both ready for it, that he’d thought less about his own pain and more about hers. Most of all he’d wished he hadn’t let her walk out of his life.
Regret was a solid ache behind his ribs.
“Do I ever wish—?”
“Nothing. Forget it. I have to go. Grams will be wondering where I am.”
He could see the faint trace of tears on her cheeks and the outline of her mouth.
He knew how that mouth would feel under his. How it would taste.
But he wasn’t going there.
Not yet.
Last time they’d done everything the wrong way. Passion had overwhelmed everything. Next time he was determined it was going to be different.
And there was going to be a next time.
“Does your grandmother know you’re Fliss?”
“Are you kidding? Who do you think made the cookies?”
He was relieved to see her sense of humor flicker back to life, and he smiled in the darkness. “I’ll take you home.”
“I have a Doberman. I don’t need an escort.”
He ignored that. “I’m taking you home, and I won’t follow you in on one condition—”
“What?”
“You have dinner with me tomorrow and we talk properly then.”
“Last time I shared a meal with you I ended up baking cookies.”
“I’m not talking about dinner in a restaurant. I’m talking about christening my new kitchen.”
“You’re moving in?”
They’d arrived back at his car, and she slid into the passenger seat.
“I’m sleeping there tonight. On the floor.”
“If my memory serves me rightly, you have about ten bedrooms at your parents’ house. You don’t need to sleep on the floor.”
He almost told her then. Told her how it felt being in the house knowing his father was never going to walk through the door again.
Instead he focused on driving, negotiating the darkened lanes that led to her grandmother’s house.
He pulled up outside. Lights were burning in the downstairs windows, and he thought about the times he’d lurked by the gate at the back of the house, waiting for Fliss. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Does seven thirty work for you?”
“I’m not cooking for you, Carlyle. And if you value your health, you won’t push it.”
“I’ll do the cooking.”
“I have to babysit Grams.” There was a desperate note to her voice, as if she knew she was running out of excuses.
“That’s why I suggested seven thirty. Gives you time to settle her down.”
“She might need me.”
“You’ll be on the end of a phone.”
She unfastened her seat belt. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Once, but not anymore.
This time he wasn’t giving up until he got what he wanted.
And now, after months, maybe even years, of wondering, he knew what that was.
“Seven thirty. I’ll cook.”
* * *
THE PHONE WOKE her and she fumbled for it, knocking a book onto the floor.
There was a whimper from the bed, and Charlie scrabbled to his feet and licked her face.
He’d followed her up to the bedroom when she’d arrived home, and hovered there, as if he sensed something different about her and was afraid of leaving her alone.
And she’d discovered she didn’t want to be on her own. So she’d pulled Charlie onto the bed and slept with her arms wrapped around his solid body, comforted by his warmth and his presence. Only with animals had she ever felt able to truly relax her guard. Hero had slept across the door, apparently determined to live up to his name.
She stroked Charlie’s silky fur with one hand and checked the caller ID with the other.
Harriet.
“What time do you call this?”
“Six in the morning. Did I wake you? You’re usually up by now.”
“Is everything all right?” Fliss rubbed her eyes, suddenly worried about her sister. “Is there a problem?” Her head throbbed from crying.
“Not with me. I heard the news! Matilda called me. You’re a heroine.”
“She called you?” Fliss groped on the nightstand for painkillers. If this was how a heroine felt, she didn’t want to repeat the experience in a hurry. “How is she?”
“Doing well, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do a thing.”
“That wasn’t how she tells it.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time.” Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending how you looked at it. She swallowed the pills along with a glass of water.
“She said Seth was there, too. And that she blew your identity. She’s feeling guilty and worried about you.”
“No need.” She put the empty glass down. “Turns out Seth knew who I was all along.”
“Really? So why didn’t he say anything?”
“He was waiting for me to tell him.”
“Did you talk?”
No, I sobbed myself dry on his shoulder. “We exchanged a few words.”
“That’s it?”
Fliss sighed and forced herself out of bed. Still holding the phone, she padded into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror.
“Jeez. I can’t believe I look this bad when I didn’t even have a drink. There is no justice.” She still had streaks of mascara under her eyes, and her hair looked as if she’d dived headfirst into a bush. “I’m all dressed for Halloween, and it isn’t even July.”
“Are you avoiding my question?”
Fliss scrubbed at the smears of black under her eyes. “I don’t even remember your question. That’s how bad I feel.”
“I want to know about Seth. And I want to know how you are. It must have been difficult for you.”
“No.” She might have stood more chance of convincing her sister if Charlie hadn’t picked that moment to bark.
“Who is that?”
“It’s Charlie. Who else would it be?”
“What’s he doing in the bedroom? You barely tolerate Charlie.”
Fliss thought back to the night before, remembering how she’d lifted the dog onto the bed and held him on her lap until he’d settled down. “He was hard to shake off, and I was too tired to fight it.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. Are you upset?”
“As long as he doesn’t howl, I’m fine.”
“I’m not talking about Charlie, I’m talking about the baby. That must have been tough. Are you doing okay? Talk to me.”
“Nothing to talk about. The baby is fine, I’m fine, Seth’s fine. Everyone is fine.” Fliss stared into the mirror, relieved her sister couldn’t see her. Her face still looked a little puffy.
This, she thought, is what a liar looks like.
“You know I’m here if you need to talk to someone.”
“Thanks, but there’s nothing I need to talk about.” The last thing she wanted was for Harriet to worry about her. Fortunately hiding her feelings was easy, or it had been until last night.
She felt a prickle of annoyance.
Why had Seth come looking for her? Why hadn’t he just left her alone? If he’d guessed how upset she was, and clearly he had, then why couldn’t he have left her to deal with her emotions her own way?
Given a little more time, she would have pulled herself together and no one would have been any the wiser.
“I’ll be two minutes,” she told Charlie, and stepped into the shower. Two minutes of needle-sharp hot water helped a little. Not a lot, but enough to help her face the day.
She took Charlie and Hero out for a quick walk, and when she returned her grandmother was already seated at the table, sipping her coffee.
“You’re up early, Grams.” Fliss fed the two dogs.
“So are you. Especially given how late you were last night.”
“You’re waiting up for me? I’m a little too old for that, don’t you think?”
“You’re never too old to enjoy the fact that someone cares about you.”
“Good point.” Sunlight poured through the windows, and Fliss could hear the faint crash of surf through the open windows. The fresh air did more for her aching head than all the Tylenol on the planet. “I walked the dogs. Came across Hero on the beach so I went to investigate.” She put a slice of toast in the toaster and wandered to the fridge. “Turned out Matilda had her baby.”
“I heard. I thought it wasn’t due for another few weeks?”
“It wasn’t, but nature thought differently.” She pulled out butter and a jar of her grandmother’s homemade plum jam.
For as long as she could remember, there had always been a jar of her grandmother’s plum jam in the cupboard.
“Toast is burning,” her grandmother said casually, and Fliss sprinted across the kitchen, cursing.
“It’s toast! How can I burn toast?”
“Because you were thinking about other things.”
Fliss wasn’t about to argue with that. She’d been thinking about Seth. The baby. Matilda. The baby. Seth. The baby. Seth.
Seth, Seth, Seth.
“Damn.” She retrieved the charred toast. “Looks like something spewed from the center of a volcano.”
“Turn the temperature dial down. Start again. Cooking requires you to stay in the moment. That’s why it’s relaxing. So you drove her to the clinic?”
“No time.” Instead of throwing out the toast, she scraped away the top layer and spread the surface with butter and plum jam. “She was having the baby right there. This jam is good. You could sell it and make a fortune.” She chewed, savoring the sweetness and the flavor. The taste took her straight back to those long summers where she and Harriet had filled baskets to the brim with plums and apples. Fliss had eaten them, right there and then, with the sun beating down and the juice running down her chin.
Harriet had preferred to save hers to cook with their grandmother.
They’d spend hours preparing the fruit, stirring, testing and tasting until finally pouring the jam into jars that Harriet had labeled in her neat, careful writing.
It was typical of Harriet to want to lap up every morsel of family time and store it, like a squirrel, for the winter when they were back in New York.
Fliss had preferred to spend her time outdoors. For her, the beach had felt like freedom.
But by doing that, she’d missed out on spending time with her grandmother.
She studied her, noticing how blue her eyes were and how her hair, now white, fell in pretty waves around her face.
She’d seen enough photos of her grandmother as a young girl to know she’d been a knockout.
“Is it my imagination or is the bruising a little better?”
“It’s better.” Her grandmother finished her coffee. “If you like the jam you can take a couple of jars back to the city with you when you go. And you can take one over to Matilda. Tell me more about what happened.”
Fliss swallowed the last of her toast and gave her grandmother a vastly edited version of the previous night’s events. Which meant she included most of the facts, and left out all the emotions.
“You delivered the baby?”
“No. It delivered itself, and I caught it.” And she could still feel it in her hands. Warm flesh, vulnerability. So tiny. She pushed away the memory and shrugged. “Finally putting all that softball I played in college to good use.”
“And Chase wasn’t there?”
“No. Missed the whole thing. Isn’t that exactly like a man?”
“So did the midwife come to her?”
“Midwife and an ambulance, but Seth arrived first.” She said it casually, as if it was no big deal, and her grandmother looked at her keenly.
“Seth? But Seth still thinks you’re Harriet?”
“Not anymore. Matilda named the baby Rose Felicity.” She slid another slice of bread into the toaster and turned the dial down a notch. “Even I found it hard to talk my way out of that one. And it turns out he knew all along.” She hovered by the toaster, watching it. What sort of a person couldn’t cook toast? “Probably shouldn’t have rented a car in a shade of fierce red. Harriet would have gone for soft blue.”
“So what happens now?”
Fliss chose to deliberately misunderstand the question. “I need to make a trip to the store to buy a baby gift for Matilda. Which means I could do with some help, because buying baby gifts isn’t on my list of skills.” Sadly her attempt to take evasive action didn’t work with her grandmother.
“I meant, what happens with Seth?”
It was a question that had been playing on her mind since she woke up.
She’d come here to escape emotion and encountered more than she would in Manhattan.
Fliss ejected the toast. “I expect he’ll buy her a gift, too.” She caught her grandmother’s eye and sighed. “What do you want me to say? Nothing happens with Seth. It’s all in the past. Over. Done. History.”
“Honey, if it was all in the past you wouldn’t have run here from Manhattan and you wouldn’t have pretended to be your sister. Maybe you should stop running and talk to him.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like him.” Fliss poked the spoon into the jam. “He wanted me to go over to his place tonight for dinner.”
“And you’re going.”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Why wouldn’t you go?”
“Because I’m here to look after you.”
“I promise not to dance around the garden naked or get into trouble in any way. Don’t use me as an excuse.”
Fliss paused, the toast halfway to her mouth. “You danced naked in the garden? That actually happened?”
Her grandmother’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe. Maybe you’re not the only one who had a liking for skinny-dipping.”
Fliss took a bite of toast. “You’re a surprise. Tell me more.”
“Not unless you tell me about Seth. Trust is a two-way street. I’ll show you my secrets if you show me yours.”
Fliss sighed. “What do you want to know? Seth was a mistake. We all make them. I was young. Now tell me about skinny-dipping. Did Gramps dare you?”
“No. I dared him.” Her grandmother’s voice was brisk. “He didn’t know whether to be scandalized or impressed.”
“You and Gramps obviously had an interesting marriage.”
“Oh, we weren’t married. Not at that point. Before that night, he’d never seen me naked.”
Fliss choked with laughter. “You’re bad. How did I never know this about you?”
“You’re not the only one capable of breaking a few rules, Felicity. And anyway, rules seemed pointless back then. There was a war on. People were dying. It seemed as if the world had gone mad. None of us knew what was going to happen in the future. It seemed right to grab happiness wherever we could find it. Nowadays people are so busy working toward the future and thinking about tomorrow, they forget how precious the present is.”
“Wow, Grams, that’s profound for seven in the morning.” Fliss poured herself another cup of coffee, readjusting her image of her grandmother.
“All I’m saying is that you should grab the opportunity to spend time with Seth.”
Living in the present and thinking only of the moment was the reason she’d wound up pregnant at eighteen. But her grandmother knew nothing about that.
“It’s complicated—”
“Love always is. Doesn’t mean you should give up on it.”
“Who said anything about love?”
“Sex, then.”
Fliss choked on her toast. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t look so shocked. How do you think your mother arrived on this earth?”
Fliss tried to delete the image from her brain. It was bad enough thinking about one’s parents having sex, without thinking about grandparents. “Um—okay, but I don’t intend to have sex with Seth either. That’s not going to happen.”
Her grandmother removed her glasses. “I’m going to ask you a question. Being you, you’ll probably dodge it, but I’m going to ask it anyway.”
Fliss squirmed, her heart sinking. “What?”
“Have you ever met a man that made you feel the way Seth did?”
It took her a moment to answer because the word seemed to be stuck in her throat. “No.”
“And that doesn’t tell you something?”
“Yes, it tells me I was a teenager with my head in the clouds, seeing things the way I wanted to see them. Artistic interpretation.”
“Maybe, or maybe it’s telling you something else.”
Fliss thought about the way it had felt when Seth had her and dismissed it.
She wasn’t going there again. Not even with an unreasonably large helping of sexual chemistry thrown into the mix.
“It tells me I’m practical about relationships. Realistic. I’m not like Harriet.”
“You think it’s unrealistic to expect to find someone who loves you and who you love back?”
“I think it’s hard to find that. Relationships are often one-sided, as you said the other day. One partner invariably feels more than the other. Mom did, and look where it got her.”
Her grandmother was silent for a long moment. Then she drew breath, as if she was about to say something.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stood up.
Fliss realized how tired she looked and felt a pang. “Why are you up this early? You should have slept in. What can I do for you? Once I’ve walked Charlie and Hero, I thought I’d make a start on the garden. I’m going to call a tree surgeon to deal with the apple tree.”
“That would be helpful.”
“And I’ll change the sheets on your bed.”
“Thank you.”
Fliss bit her lip. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Her grandmother paused by the doorway. “You can go and have dinner with Seth. Hear what he has to say.”
“Why? What’s the point of going over old ground? There’s nothing there, Grams. It’s history.”
“Maybe, but if you don’t go, you won’t know. Go to dinner. Clear the air. Have that talk you’ve been avoiding. Tell him how you feel.”
There was no way she was going to tell him how she felt. Not after last night.
He’d already caught her at a vulnerable moment. She wasn’t going to put herself in that position again.
But if she didn’t let him have the conversation he wanted he was never going to leave her alone.
This way she could keep both her grandmother and Seth happy.
And all she had to do was listen.
She’d let him say whatever it was he wanted to say, and then she’d leave.
“All right. I’ll go to dinner.”
Dinner. Not sex. Not a relationship. Two people clearing the air. Putting the past behind them.
That was all it was.