by Nancy Warren
She watched as Trish opened the back car door and leaned in to help her young granddaughter out of her seat belt. Then Sadie tumbled from the car and began running for the cottage, a brown paper lunch sack in her hands.
Trish then opened the rear door and out bounded Cupid, who easily overtook Sadie as he hurtled toward her.
“I thought he got skunked?” she asked Jared, dreading the moment the dog would rub himself all over her legs, his way of telling her how much he’d missed her since he hadn’t seen her for two whole days.
“He did. He spent a couple of hours at the dog groomer. Cost me sixty bucks. They used a huge tube of toothpaste on him and who knows what else? But it worked pretty well.”
By now the dog had arrived, eyes dancing, paws dancing on the floor at her feet, ears dancing as he attempted, with yips and squeals to tell her he was happy to see her.
She knelt to his level. “I am happy to see you, too, sweetheart,” she cooed. She glanced up at Jared. “He still smells kind of skunky.”
“Trust me, it’s way, way better than before.”
She couldn’t imagine how bad the smell must have been.
“Sadie,” she cried, as Jared’s daughter reached her and she swooped in for a hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thanks.”
The child suddenly grew shy and clutched the bag to her chest.
Trish appeared in the doorway and as the older woman entered she could finally shut out the cold and damp. The last of a fire had burned down to embers in the fireplace and she’d turned out most of the lamps thinking she’d be leaving right away.
She flipped on a lamp and said, “Please, make yourselves at home.”
Cupid didn’t need a second invitation. In fact, he hadn’t needed the first one. He’d already flopped on his favorite rug in front of the fireplace and he watched them from his perch, his head resting on his crossed front paws. Of all his adorable poses, and he had many, she thought this might be her favorite.
“It’s okay. We’re not staying,” Trish said, “But Sadie has something for you. She wanted to bring it herself. Go ahead and give her Valentine, honey.”
Sadie stood, looking uncertain.
Erin was so glad she’d had enough crimson polymer to make everybody something. She smiled at her favorite six-year-old in the world and said, “I made you something, too, Sadie.”
“You did?” the girl cried.
She nodded, looking down at that angelic face framed in blond curls. “Can I give you mine first?”
Sadie nodded.
She fetched the bag and Sadie’s eyes grew round. “This is like a grown-up present,” she said. She had to put down her paper sack, which Sadie now saw was decorated with heart stickers.
When she opened her gift her eyes grew wide. “Look, it’s a necklace. It’s a red heart.” She looked closer. “And it has my name on it.”
“It’s beautiful,” Trish said. “I heard that Justin Bieber gave his girlfriend one of Erin’s necklaces. This is pretty special.”
“Can you put it on me right now?” Sadie asked Erin.
“Of course.” She hadn’t been entirely sure about the length of silver chain or the size of the heart in relation to Sadie’s size but she was happy to see she’d guessed well. It fit nicely and, she had to say, looked adorable.
Now Sadie handed her the well-stickered paper bag. Inside was a hand drawn Valentine. “To Erin,” it said, in her wobbly capital letter beginner printing. “I love you. Love Sadie.”
More hearts, some drawn in crayon, some in sticker form, decorated the page. Erin felt a rush of emotion wash over her. “Oh, Sadie,” she said. “I love you, too. This is the nicest Valentine I’ve ever received.”
She hugged the child and then walked to the wall where she kept her design inspirations and sketches. It was the space she looked at most during the day. “I’m going to hang it right here so I can see it every day when I’m working. You’ll help inspire me.”
She pinned the valentine onto her corkboard.
“I got a little carried away. I made you all something,” she said turning back to the room. “Here, Trish.”
Jared’s mom seemed delighted with her earrings and, like Sadie, put them on right away.
Cupid, watching them from his spot in front of the nearly-spent fire, came eagerly when she called him over. “Do you want to open Cupid’s gift?” she asked Sadie who nodded.
When the child opened the bag and removed the big heart-shaped tag, she said, “Look, Cupid, it’s got your name on it. And our phone number!”
Cupid wagged his tail and sniffed at the heart, clearly disappointed when his nose informed him it wasn’t something he could eat.
“It’s so that if he gets lost again, whoever finds him will have his name and phone number.”
“Dad? Can you put it on for Cupid?”
Jared hesitated for a moment and she wondered if she’d pushed things making a heart tag for a dog that Jared had to walk regularly. But then he did a kind of a shrug, eye-roll combination and walked over.
Cupid stood sedately, his tail swishing back and forth slowly as Jared affixed the new tag. It hung, bright and goofy from his collar, making all of them laugh.
“What about Dad? Did you make him something?”
“I did.” And, she thought, if he hated Cupid’s dog tag, how was he going to feel about an equally foolish key chain?
She passed him the bag and he said, “Just tell me it’s not earrings.”
“Dad!”
“Okay.” He opened the bag and swung the red heart key chain for them all to see.
“That’s awesome, Dad,” Sadie said.
“It is awesome,” he agreed. “Thanks, Erin.”
“Dad, don’t you have anything for Erin?” Sadie looked embarrassed for her father.
“I do, as a matter of fact. But I’ll give it to her at the restaurant.”
“Which reminds me,” Trish said before Sadie could say another word, “We should get going so you folks can eat.” She beamed at them both. “Have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Yes, thanks Trish. Goodnight Sadie.”
“Night, Erin. Night Daddy. I love you.” And then, “Come on, Cupid.”
The dog trotted after her. Trish right behind.
“And now,” Jared said, “I can kiss you properly, which I’ve been wanting to do since you opened the door looking all sexy and hot.”
He kissed her so thoroughly they were late for their dinner reservation.
CHAPTER FOUR
He couldn’t do it.
As he looked across the candle-lit table at the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he realized he didn’t have the guts to ask her to marry him. Not here, not in a public dining room with far too many couples present – some of whom he even knew.
“What?” she asked, catching his expression. Damn. She already knew him too well. Knew he was struggling.
“I was just wondering –“ Oh, hell, he really, really couldn’t do this. He sipped some wine. “I was wondering if you’d like to go skiing with me one weekend.”
Skiing? That’s the best he could come up with? A weekend of skiing? He didn’t even know if she could ski.
She looked so pretty sitting across from him, her hair all sexy loose curls, her eyes at once mysterious and familiar that he wondered what was holding his tongue. Some deep-seated fear of rejection that dated back to high school no doubt. He didn’t know a lot about love, no more than the average red-blooded American guy, he supposed. But he did know a bone-deep connection when he felt it. He’d experienced it with his wife, and their marriage had been as happy as he imagined a marriage could be. Some wild highs, a few arguments, a lot of laughter but mostly he recalled feeling contentment. She was as much a part of him as his heart or lungs, some organ that he didn’t pay a lot of heed to day in and day out, quietly doing its job in the background, b
ut if it wasn’t there, he couldn’t function.
When she’d died he’d felt that way, as though some vital piece of – not only his life -- his body was missing. He’d needed to stay strong for his daughter, and he’d survived, of course, and gone on living. The intense pain dulled with time and he’d learned how to be alone again. But, even though he’d dated some and listened to those who said, ‘You’re still young, you’ll find someone else,’ he hadn’t believed them. You didn’t get that lucky twice in one life.
And yet, incredibly, he had. He’d somehow won the lottery twice, finding in Erin a woman who was completely different from his wife. But with her he felt the same sense of contentment when they were together. The sense that he was somehow whole again.
Now, here he sat, with the ring burning a hole in his pocket and talked about skiing.
Erin put her head to one side and a curl of auburn hair slipped down her shoulder. He wanted to reach over and touch his fingertip to the softness. “I haven’t skied in ages. Sure, when I’m not so busy. Why not?”
“Great. There’s nothing like being out in the snow all day and coming in to a lodge with a roaring fire. I’ll make some calls. Book us someplace nice.”
Come on. Do it. Ask her!
When he glanced around there were hearts everywhere. He really thought whoever was in charge of the dining room at this inn had gone a little Valentine crazy. Big paper hearts hung from the rafters, each table sported a couple of red roses and another heart, this one with sparkles. The napkins were red. The candles were red.
There was a pianist in the corner on a baby grand playing, what else? Love songs.
Everything was pushing him to propose. Each older couple holding hands, each dating couple sharing bites of food and playing footsie under the table said, Do it. The smiling waiters, the love songs, the hearts said, Ask Her. There were so many hearts he felt like he was at a cardiology convention.
“Are you all right?” Erin asked him.
“Sure. I was looking at all the hearts. Kind of over-the-top, don’t you think?”
“It is Valentine’s Day.”
As though he could forget.
Somehow he got through the meal. When he ignored the hearts and the ring and simply had a conversation with the woman across from him it was better. They talked about Sadie, and Cupid and his work and her work. Mostly hers because things were going so well.
“I feel like everything’s starting to fall into place,” she said. “My designs are getting noticed. Getting asked to be part of Raoul Navarre’s collection is kind of a break-through.”
“More important than Justin Bieber’s girlfriend?” he teased.
“Every customer matters,” she informed him. “I love them all.”
“I’m a customer,” he reminded her, holding up his key chain where the red heart swung in front of him.
“Even though you got yours for free, I still love you,” she said, soft and sexy.
Now was the moment. He opened his mouth and the waiter appeared. “Could I interest you in dessert?”
At last the meal was over, they’d shared a chocolate dessert, naturally shaped like a heart, finished their coffee, he’d paid the bill and they headed up to their room. It was a special place to them, this hotel. It was where they’d had their first real date. He could imagine having the wedding here, coming here on their anniversaries. Slowly aging into one of the couples in that dining room who’d likely been coming here for decades of special occasions.
He took her hand as they entered their room. He put a fire log on the fireplace. Lit it.
Erin sat at in one of the armchairs that flanked the fireplace and watched him. Her eyes were luminous. He was already on his knees before her, he should pull the ring out of his pocket and get this over with. Instead, he rose slowly, leaned forward to kiss her.
She tasted like wine and woman and heaven on earth.
When she leaned into him, raising her hand to his cheek he was lost. He took her hand and led her to the bed where she was warm and giving and he fell a little more deeply in love.
Much later, when the firelight flickered over her skin and their breathing began to slow, he took her hand and rested it on his heart.
“You know I love you.”
“I believe you’ve mentioned it.” She turned and snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest. The glorious tumble of her hair tickled his skin.
His heart, which had slowed to near-normal began to speed up again. Had he been this nervous the first time he proposed to a woman? He didn’t think so.
“Do you love me?” The question snuck out between his lips unexpectedly, like a burp. What was he doing?
She raised her head a little so she could turn and look at him. “Yes, I do.”
“The thing is, I’m making a complete mess of this, but Erin, I want to marry you.”
The soft, sexy expression in her eyes sharpened for a second to a glow so warm he felt the strength of her love and knew in that moment that everything was going to be fine. She felt the connection as strongly as he did.
Then, like the sun fading at dusk he watched the light grow fainter. “Marriage,” she said at last. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting, had no idea…” She rolled away and shifted her gaze to the ceiling.
He realized he’d forgotten to mention the ring. He rolled over and dug the ring box out of the pocket of his pants where they’d fallen to the floor.
He snapped open the jeweler’s box, then flipped on the bedside lamp. Offered her the open box. “Here. You can change it, but I saw it and thought of you.”
She rose to her elbow. He could see her looking at the ring. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Exactly what I would choose.”
“So? Will you?”
When she looked at him he saw not joy, but pain. She shook her head slowly. “No. I won’t marry you.”
“But why?”
“I’m so sorry.” She sounded near tears. “I can’t. That’s all.” Then again, “I’m sorry.”
“But, I don’t understand.” He couldn’t leave it.
“It’s only been two months,” she cried. “Who gets engaged in two months?”
“I didn’t know there was a time line. Nobody told me. In my world, when you love someone, you marry them. That’s how it works.”
“It’s not like that in my world. Where I come from people like each other, they date, they become exclusive. Maybe they move in together. Getting married comes way down the line.”
He sighed. Looked at the ring box still in his hand, the ring winking away in the light with no idea it had been rejected. He snapped the lid of the jeweler’s box closed and it echoed like the sound of a slamming door.
“Maybe if my situation was different I wouldn’t be in such a hurry,” he said, though he was pretty sure that wasn’t true. “But I have Sadie. I want her to have a real family again. And besides, I know you want children of your own. We shouldn’t wait too long.”
She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them and he saw a bleakness there. “I think you’re a wonderful man. And Sadie’s a truly great kid. But my business is my family. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to Sadie for me to marry you.”
When she said those words she didn’t sound like his Erin -- the woman who made goofy hearts for a dog’s collar. Who tacked a child’s drawing up on her wall with her designs. She sounded like a cold-hearted business tycoon. One he’d never fall in love with. He gazed at her profile. “I know you’re busy. I respect how hard you work. Are you asking me to wait?”
Once more she shook her head sadly. “No. I won’t marry you. You should quit wasting your time with me and find a wonderful woman who’ll make you a good wife and Sadie a great mom.”
“I thought I’d found her,” he said, feeling coldness creep over him. “Guess I was wrong.”
She rose and began putting on her clothes. “Could you drive me home?”
CHAPTER FIVE
How could she have been so stupid? Erin railed t
o herself as she paced back and forth across the marred fir floors of her rented cottage. She’d let herself fall in love with a wonderful, amazing man, never realizing how much danger she was putting them both in. She’d thought they’d enjoy each other while she was in town, she’d heal and work on her designs far from New York.
Then, when it was time for her to go back to her real life and world, she and Jared would part as warm and special friends. She’d imagined they’d keep things going long distance for a while, snatched weekends when she was on the West Coast, and one day he’d find someone else and the weekends would end.
But one week had drifted into another week and she hadn’t left. Instead she’d stupidly fallen in love with a man who deserved a woman who was whole. Who could give him more children, give Sadie sisters and brothers.
All she could give him was love. And regret.
She’d always wanted kids. She loved them. She knew that if things had been different she’d have been more than content to be Jared’s wife and Sadie’s step-mom. But things weren’t different.
She’d never have a child. The doctor had told her, after she lost her baby. She’d never have children.
She’d been so content here in Kaslo she hadn’t imagined Jared would go and ruin everything by proposing. Seriously, they’d only known each other two months.
Who did that?
“Well?” Trish Gardiner asked Jared as soon as she’d brought Sadie and Cupid back to his place the next morning.
She had such an excited expression on her face that he wished to hell he’d never told her in advance of his plan to propose last night. What kind of a fool tells his mother he’s going to ask a woman to marry him before he’s nailed down the woman?
Before he could speak she was bustling around making coffee. “Did she like the ring? Have you set a date?” She reached for coffee mugs. “Did she cry when you asked her?”
“No.”
“Well, women don’t always—“
“Mom, she said ‘No.’”
Trish dropped the coffee maker’s carafe onto the counter with a clatter. “What?”
“She turned me down.”
