by Qwillia Rain
“About as all right as he’s gonna be for now.” Vance eased the plate away from her.
That made Lyssa’s heart pound faster against her ribs. “He’s not hurt, is he?”
“No. He’s just upset,” he assured her. Rising, he carried the plate to the sink.
Lyssa kept her attention on scraping the bits of rind from beneath her fingernails while the water and garbage disposal ran in the sink. “I wanted to talk to him, but—”
Vance returned to her side to clean the sticky juice from her hands with the damp washcloth he carried. “Darlin’, you should have talked to him weeks ago. Hell, years ago.”
“I know, but I just couldn’t.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “Did he tell you about the baby?”
Vance shook his head, but he smiled. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”
“Did he say—”
“He didn’t have much to say.”
Lyssa grimaced. She laid her folded arms on the table and propped her chin on them. “He left, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, hon. He did.”
“I’m afraid,” Lyssa whispered.
“Afraid of what?”
“He won’t come back. He won’t want me anymore.”
Vance settled one of his arms around her and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “That’s foolish talk, Lys. Mike loves and adores you. He’ll be back.”
“Not after this, Vance.” Lyssa shook her head. “You didn’t see his face, didn’t hear his voice.” She rubbed trembling fingers against her aching eyes. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Do what, babe?”
“Be alone again. I don’t know if I even want to try.”
“You’ve been sitting here all night, haven’t you?”
Lyssa nodded.
“You should sleep. It’s not good for you, and it’s definitely not good for the baby.” Vance stayed quiet a moment before settling his arm around her waist. “You’ll feel better once you get some rest.” His fingers traced the heavy circles under her eyes from her sleepless night. “Let’s get you to bed.”
There was no energy in her for argument as Vance maneuvered her out of the kitchen and down the hall to the master bedroom. He waited while she stumbled into the bathroom to change out of her clothes and into her pajamas, then helped her climb into the bed.
“You don’t have to stay with me, Vance,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine on my own until—”
“He’ll be home, Lys. Don’t you worry about it.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed the hand holding hers before closing her eyes to try to rest.
Chapter Sixteen
The pounding on the front door pulled Lyssa away from the outfit she’d just begun to construct. She would have ignored it, but the sound of her sister’s voice drew Lyssa out of the room and down the hall. A very irritated-looking Mattie glared at her when Lyssa opened the door, while her three-year-old niece Maggie grinned up at her.
“Lyssa Briann Lawrence, you better tell me what the”—Mattie clamped her hands over her daughter’s ears—“hell is going on here.”
Lyssa found it impossible to stifle her laughter when she looked down at Maggie to see the child rolling her eyes at her mother’s attempt to keep her from hearing the curse. “Would you like some juice or tea, Mat?” She motioned her sister and niece inside before shutting the door.
“I’d rather have some answers, sister dear,” Mattie grumbled.
“Hi, Aunt Lys. I told Mama it was girls-only day.” Maggie grinned as she moved to hug her aunt. Her arms wrapped around Lyssa’s hips.
“Hello, Maggie.” She squeezed her back. She forced herself not to hold the little girl too tight. Until Mike had left, she’d never realized how much she could crave simple human contact.
“Honey, Mama wants to talk to Aunt Lyssa. Can you go find your toys?”
The sigh was too grown-up a sound for a three-year-old to make, but that was one of the things about Maggie: she always seemed years ahead of her age. “Okay, Mama.” Before releasing Lyssa, Maggie pressed a loud kiss to her stomach. “Bye, baby.” Looking up at her aunt, she added, “No gettin’ sick, Aunt Lys.”
Leaning down, Lyssa pressed a soft kiss to Maggie’s chocolate curls. “I promise, Maggie.”
Maggie grinned at her and whispered, “Told you the black dragon had the baby.”
The wisdom in the little girl’s gaze sent a ripple of apprehension through Lyssa. She stifled the urge to move her hand to the barely visible curve beneath her blouse as she watched Maggie head toward the living room.
“Don’t mind the baby comment, sis. Maggie has been doing that since before I started to show.” Mattie rubbed her hand over her own pregnant belly.
Lyssa stayed quiet. She hadn’t announced her pregnancy to anyone beyond Mike, Ben, and Vance, mainly because she wanted Mike by her side when they told their family.
That is if he came back. Considering he’d been quiet—no e-mails, no text messages, and only one ninety-second phone call—in the last three weeks, what little hope she had in his forgiving her and returning was wearing thin.
“Tea?” she offered as she led her sister into the kitchen.
“Yes, please.” Mattie eased into one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table.
With the kettle on the stove, Lyssa leaned on the counter nearby, waiting for the signal to pour the steaming water into the prepared teapot.
“So spill,” Mattie demanded, her elbows braced on the table, her dark brown gaze focused on Lyssa.
“Spill what?”
Mattie pulled several gossip magazines from her bag and spread them over the table.
Lyssa cursed the gossip sheets that had plastered the images of Charlene hanging on Mike’s arm all over their front pages. Not to mention the TV shows with their “reports.”
“Didn’t you listen to the programs or read these?” Lyssa asked.
Mattie rolled her eyes and snorted. “After she and Frieda Makepeace locked me in the closet at the Club four years ago you know the less I hear and read about Charlene, the better I sleep at night. Bryce had this stuff tucked away in his office. I’m sure he’s about ready to kill Mike.”
“LaTreace Barrows died of a drug overdose three weeks ago.” The coincidental nature of the situation hadn’t been lost on Lyssa when she’d read the first article about the cover model’s death. Mike would have been in Europe a week when the woman’s body was found. According to Vance, Mike’s hasty departure was because he needed to help a friend. Lyssa was pretty sure LaTreace was that friend.
“Oh my God, I hadn’t heard that part, Lys. I know you’ve worked with her before.” Mattie sat up straighter.
“Mike knew and worked with LaTreace for years. Just before her funeral, he called and told me he felt obligated to attend.” Lyssa shrugged. In regards to Charlene, Lyssa didn’t have an explanation to give since Mike hadn’t mentioned the redhead during their too-brief call, but he had assured her he would return.
Lyssa switched off the burner and pulled the teakettle before it could begin to whistle. After she poured the steaming water into the teapot, she returned the kettle to the stove and sat down across from Mattie.
“That woman doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body.” Mattie grimaced. “Has he told you when he’ll be home?”
“Other than that one phone conversation, I haven’t heard from Mike since he left, Mat.” Lyssa tried not to reveal how anxious and upset she was at Mike’s silence. She pulled one of the magazines toward her and leafed through it to the section with pictures of him and Charlene.
“You’re not thinking he won’t come back, are you, Lys?” It was clear that thought had crossed Mattie’s mind.
Lyssa ignored the voice inside that called her a fool as she shook her head. “Mike would tell me if he wasn’t coming back.” And she believed it, despite all the skepticism trying to undermine her confidence.
“How can you be sure?” Mattie demanded. “I’ve been watching the TV go
ssip shows and seeing the articles same as you. He’s got women surrounding him. Charlene is hanging on his arm everywhere he goes.”
Lyssa dropped her gaze to the cup she held between her hands. “I can’t be sure, Mat. I can only trust that he loves me and comes home soon.” She moved her attention to the pictures, taking note of the stiff way Mike held himself beside Charlene. The tight expression on his face when he smiled. All those little clues, both in the paper and on the videos she couldn’t help but watch each night, bolstered her defenses against the doubts attempting to plague her.
Mike’s expression betrayed little interest in the woman on his arm. None of the women he’d been seen with over the last three weeks had brought the gleam to his eye. She’d been watching. Dreading it and sighing with relief when it remained missing.
Satisfaction eased the concerned look on her sister’s face before Mattie asked, “So you believe he loves you? What happed to ‘the heart lies’ belief?”
“Yes, I believe him.” Lyssa stirred sugar and milk into her tea. “And I love him.”
“It’s about damn time,” Mattie grumbled.
“Tell me you were this crazy when you finally figured out how much Bryce loved you.”
“Certifiable.” Mattie sipped her tea. “Mike has been nuts about you since the day he asked you out to celebrate selling his first article and pictures.”
“I’m starting to believe that.” She looked into her teacup and then up at her little sister. “It’s kinda scary knowing how much you can start to depend on someone to be there for you.”
“It’s a two-way street, Lys. It’ll be no different for Mike.”
“I’m still finding it difficult to think there can be a future for us.”
Mattie watched her from over the rim of her cup. “He’s the other half of your soul. What more do you need to know?”
Lyssa thought about that for a moment. “Yes, he is.”
“So why aren’t you a basket case?” Mattie asked.
“I am; you just caught me when my confidence is on an upswing,” Lyssa admitted, fighting the tears welling up.
“Oh, Lys.” Mattie dragged her chair next to her sister’s and wrapped her arms around her.
“All my lofty thoughts about him loving me are all well and good, but I need him to come home. I need him here.” Lyssa grabbed a napkin from the table, blew her nose, and wiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. Glaring at her sister, Lyssa poked at the open magazine in front of her. “Every time I see the pictures or watch the video clips, I want to scream. He spends twelve damned years chasing me, and then, right when I’m ready to confess all, to tell him ‘I love you,’ he flits off to Europe! I have half a mind to go over there and shove one of his cameras where the sun don’t shine.”
Mattie laughed. “Okay, now that sounds more like it. Shall I call Bryce and tell him to get the company jet gassed up?”
Lyssa shook her head. The temper drained away slightly. “No, I’ll give him a little more time.” She glanced into the living room where the bushy green Christmas tree Mike had insisted on putting up the day after Thanksgiving twinkled with lights and ornaments. “But I swear, if he isn’t home before Christmas, that man’ll be walkin’ funny by New Year’s.”
They were both distracted by the sound of the front door opening, followed by a squeal of delight. The rush of hope that it was Mike deflated when she and Mattie reached the doorway to the living room to see Maggie demanding Vance pick her up.
“It’s barely noon, Vance,” Lyssa complained.
Vance bounced Maggie on his hip, grinning at the little girl as she tugged free the leather tie holding his hair back. “Sorry, babe. We marines take our duties seriously.”
“Mike did not ask you and Ben to make sure I was eating every meal?”
Mattie laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He is a Halsey, after all.”
“Halseys take care of their own,” Maggie announced in a resolute tone that had all three adults chuckling.
Mattie shook her head. “She’s been listening to her daddy again, I see.” Holding her hands out to her daughter, she smiled. “Come on, sweetie; time to go home.”
Maggie seemed to debate going to her mom for a moment before she gave Vance a serious look. “It’s okay. I’s still waitin’. Down, please.”
Vance squatted and set her on the floor, his smile indulgent. “Waiting for what, kiddo?”
“My angel.” Maggie reached over and grabbed Mattie’s hand. Looking up at her mom, she smiled. “Him and Ben’s bringin’ me Aimee’s angel.”
Lyssa watched Vance drop to one knee, his face blanching as he stared at Maggie. “Are you okay?” She kept her question soft, not wanting to frighten her sister or her niece.
“Maggie.” Vance cleared his throat and tried again. “Maggie, who told you I was bringing you Aim—an angel?”
The little girl stood very still, her pale green eyes holding Vance’s for the longest time before she shrugged and answered, “Just know. I wait.” She turned away and tugged Mattie toward the door. “Come on, Mama. Grandpa Jake’s makin’ ice cream.”
“I’m sorry, Vance. I don’t think Maggie knows what she’s saying most of the time,” Mattie apologized as she followed her daughter out the door.
Vance rose slowly to his feet as the door closed behind Mattie and Maggie. Lyssa felt compelled to explain a little more. “She doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just that Maggie sees things sometimes.”
He nodded, pushing his loosened hair away from his face. “It’s okay, Lys. I just haven’t heard—never mind.” Planting his hands on his hips, he looked down at her. “About your lunch.”
Lyssa groaned and headed into the kitchen, with him following. Even if she wanted to wallow in self-pity, she’d learned trying to avoid him and Ben when they decided to play mother hen simply wasn’t worth the effort.
* * *
Mike ached in every joint and more. He couldn’t blame the long flights from France and New York, since the seats in first class had been more than comfortable. The weariness plaguing him had been present since he’d left San Diablo three weeks earlier. It was not knowing what he’d come home to that made him feel decades older than he was.
A part of him argued he should ignore the urge to head to Lyssa’s and just shower and crash at his apartment over the studio, but he couldn’t. Tuma was still in residence. And based on the last stilted phone call they’d shared, she was still plenty pissed that he’d left Lyssa. Twenty-five days without Lyssa left him craving the sight of her. At three in the morning, he wasn’t expecting to see any lights on when he pulled into the drive.
Pain rose up, but he squashed it down. If he could replay the last twenty-six days of his life, he’d do it. No, make that the last forty-eight months. There would be so many things he’d change. The first being not taking no for an answer when he’d brought Lyssa home from the Club that first night.
Maybe if he’d stayed with her, taken care of her, she wouldn’t have lost their baby. Despite Ben’s explanation when they’d spoken on the phone that her miscarriage had been unavoidable, Mike wondered how preventable the event might have been.
God, how many times had he prayed she was pregnant when he was dragging his ass through filthy whorehouses in Bangkok, searching for information, any clue to help wrap up his assignment? But wishing for the ability to turn back the clock wouldn’t get the job done. Not now.
He wasn’t much different than his big brother in the respect that both he and Bryce knew a baby would bind their woman to them. But did he want to leave Lyssa without a choice? He knew she loved him; she’d simply never admit it. He cursed the weak moment when he’d answered his ringing cell phone, but at the same time, he had appreciated the opportunity to step away from the painful situation facing him.
He tried to be quiet as he entered the house, deactivated then reset the alarm, and put his camera case on the sofa. His duffel bag he carried through the kitchen to the laundry room before sheddin
g his overcoat and draping it over a kitchen chair. Moving down the hall into the master bedroom, he waited in the doorway. She looked peaceful curled in the bed, covers tucked beneath her chin. Exhausted but desperate for a shower after so many hours of travel, Mike eased off his shoes and left them next to the door. He made as little noise as possible as he moved into the bathroom. As soon as he turned on the hot water, steam began to fill the room. Stripping out of his clothes, he left them in a heap on the floor and moved beneath the spray.
Lather coated his shoulders and chest when the door opened behind him and Lyssa stepped inside.
“Are you okay?” She took the soap from him and reached for the colorful fluffy thing she used to bathe.
“Tired.” He watched her rub the soap against the puff and build a froth of bubbles.
“I heard the news about LaTreace.” Lyssa eased the soapy fluff along his chest and down his abdomen. “The reports are saying she overdosed and passed out. No one found her until the hotel maid entered the suite to clean.”
“That’s what they’re saying.” The anger was clear in his voice. It was useless to explain that there was nothing he could do to correct the stories. Frustration gnawed at his insides at the reminder of the lies spread about LaTreace. “I knew her. LaTreace would never have done that. She hated drugs. Even prescribed medications. She was a huge supporter of antidrug campaigns wherever she went.”
“I saw the articles about Charlene.”
Mike groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t believe any of that claptrap?”
“No, but Mattie and Tuma were both very vocal about how often the two of you were seen together.”
“She was already skating on the edge when I arrived. The minute she heard about LaTreace, it was a media circus.”
Lyssa pushed against his shoulder, urging him to shift so she could reach his back. “It was that bad?” He was sure she felt the tension radiating from his body, but her gentle hands smoothed over his back.
“I spent most of the time trying to keep her sober and away from the reporters.” Shaking his head, he braced his clenched fists against the tiled walls. “It’s such a fucking waste. It didn’t need to happen.”
