Reclaiming His Bride (DiCarlo Brides book 3) (The DiCarlo Brides)

by Tullis, Heather

Lana recognized the divorce documents she’d had drawn up. Her chest felt suddenly tight and her eyes prickled with tears.

  “I want nothing from you, and you want nothing from me,” he continued. “It’s fair enough. Of course, there will still be provisions for our son when he’s born. Visitation, split custody. We’ll have to work out a schedule so I can be a real part of his life and not just a good-time dad. I’m willing to flex things around to handle that.”

  Lana stood, stunned. After a year of fighting her on the divorce, he was going to give in to her now? “But—”

  He shook his head, misunderstanding her, though it wasn’t clear if his action was deliberate. “No. I know you want to have full custody, or just give me weekends or something, but I can’t do that. He’s my son. I have to be there for him. I can’t,” his voice cracked and he paused for a moment before going on. “That’s something to figure out later. For now, just know that you only have to send that to your lawyer. He can get it all finalized, probably in record time, considering how long we’ve been hassling over the paperwork.”

  “But, Blake.”

  “What?” He turned to her. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t it what you’ve been gunning for? I admit, I thought. I hoped.” His gaze slid away and down, his pain nearly palpable. “But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. I can be honest and accept defeat. So you’ll get what you want, and I’ll... try to vacate here as soon as possible. There’s extra space in the Portland resort. They can put me up for now, or I’ll find somewhere else. Somewhere.”

  His distraction reminded her that he didn’t have a place of his own. He’d gotten rid of it when he moved to Denver and he couldn’t go home, not after everything that had happened with his dad.

  He pushed on, not pausing. “You can take over this suite until our son is born, or stay with your sisters. You’ll probably need some help and won’t want to call on housekeeping for help. I’ll be back before the baby’s due. I’ll want to be here for the birth. And... Please, take them.” His voice turned throaty as he pushed the papers at Lana again, as if he just realized she hadn’t touched them yet.

  If she’d thought things looked bad a couple of hours earlier, they were immeasurably worse now. “Are you sure?” she asked, her chest hurt so badly she could barely breathe.

  “You seem to be. And I can’t fight you, babe. You are what you are. I can’t do anything about that. I won’t stop loving you, but I can’t do this back and forth, maybe stuff anymore. It’s driving me crazy. If you can’t honestly, solidly commit, trust me completely, then it’s time to let you walk away.” He stared down at the papers.

  Numbly, Lana lifted her hand to take the pages, her eyes not leaving his face. She felt like something had reached into her chest and ripped out her insides. Was it her heart that hurt so much?

  After everything they’d been though, everything he’d done, fought to get them back together, now he wanted a divorce?

  She moved on autopilot as she turned and headed for the door, already wondering if she would ever be the same. How could she go through this pain again?

  The hall seemed to move under her feet. She couldn’t have been walking away from him, so it must have been the floor moving instead of her. The stairs seemed to be over before she realized she was even on them and she crossed the entry wondering if she had fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. This couldn’t be her life. Not again.

  She reached the front doors and realized Kristi had greeted her from the front desk.

  “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Bahlmann.”

  “Thanks, Kristi. You too.” Lana paused as she thought about those words. Mrs. Bahlmann. She had claimed that name for less than two weeks. Did she really want it to end now?

  His words echoes in her head again. It’s time to let you walk away. She would be the one walking away again.

  No.

  The papers dropped from limp fingers and she ran back toward the stairwell.

  “Mrs. Bahlmann, you dropped—” Kristi started to say, then stopped. Lana thought she heard the woman mutter that she’d get them, but she wasn’t paying attention.

  She took the stairs at a sprint, raced down the hall and came to a heaving stop at Blake’s door. She stood on the doorstep for a moment, catching her breath, then pulled out her keycard again and inserted it into the lock.

  She walked inside to find him sitting on the sofa, an empty bottle of beer on the table in front of him. There was another in his hand, and the rest of the six-pack sat nearby.

  He glanced over at her in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “Not getting drunk like you.” She put her hands on her hips, her heart pounding. “Luckily, you make some of your best decisions when you drink.”

  His forehead crinkled up in that adorable way it did when he was thoroughly confused. “What?”

  “When you signed those papers, I bet you did it stone-cold sober.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t do something like that when I was drunk. You think I want to do something stupid?” He set down the half-empty long neck and stared at her.

  “But you married me while drunk. You made love to me here on the night of the gala while drunk. Those were both pretty smart decisions, I think.” She circled around the sofa to stand in front of him. “That necklace and earrings you had made for me. Are they still in your office?”

  “No, they’re in the safe.” He gestured toward its hiding spot behind one of the paintings, his brows raised. “You want the jewelry? Get it. It’s not like I’m going to give it to someone else.”

  Lana walked over, revealed the safe and started punching in the code. “You aren’t allowed to give it to someone else. You had the necklace made for your wife. So only your wife can wear it.”

  “Yeah, and my ex-wife, before long.” He took another drink. “What’s with you wanting that now, anyway? I thought you didn’t want it unless you decided to stay. We’re getting a divorce remember; I signed your damn papers.” With a beer and a half in him, his tongue had loosened.

  “I’m going to shred them,” she announced firmly. “There will be no divorce.”

  “What do you mean?” His focus narrowed on her and he turned his whole body to face her.

  “I’m not going to divorce you, even if you beg.” She pulled out the jeweler’s case and relocked the safe, then turned to him. “I’m a total and complete idiot, but the last thing I’m going to do is throw away what we have. So you might as well pull out that crib and set it up because we’re both going to be here full time. And there’s nothing you can say that will stop me.”

  Blake blinked in surprise, clearly thrown by her sudden about-face. “Are you serious?” He stood and turned to her. “Yesterday you were accusing me of colluding on all of the ghost business.”

  Lana nodded in acknowledgement. It had not been anything remotely like brilliant. “Yesterday I was having pregnancy-induced stupidity. Rosemary says it’s common, though how she would know, I have no clue. You’re going to have to learn to forgive me because I still have four and a half months left to be stupid. But I promise not to be anywhere near that stupid ever again.”

  He walked over, his expression cautiously hopeful. “How can I be sure?”

  “You can’t, but if I can take it on trust that you’re not going to hurt me, then you’ll have to take it on trust that I’ll do my best not to hurt you, either.” Lana walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Blake. The thought of losing you makes me want to return to wallowing in that bed and not ever get out. Please don’t do that to me.”

  Blake pulled her into a tight hug and relief filled every feature. “I wasn’t really drunk when we married, you know. Or the night of the gala. I had been hoping to seduce you into what I wanted all along and only went along with your explanation because it made you happy. I knew I wanted to be with you since the first moment I set eyes on you.”

  “Really?” Pleasure shot through her.

  �
��Really. And I think you’re right. Only my wife should wear this. But not until Christmas,” he teased, nuzzling her neck.

  She wasn’t going to accept that, even if it was only a matter of a few hours. “You’re a whole year late. You better put it on me before it turns midnight.”

  He shook his head. “I think we should wait for Christmas.”

  She leaned up and whispered in his ear. “I can think of a dozen other things I could be doing with you by the time the clock strikes twelve.” She wiggled against him.

  “You win.” He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. “I guess you get to have it now.”

  She laughed as they moved to the bedroom, happy to be back where she belonged.

  A Perfect Fit

  SEALed With Love

  And coming, spring 2013

  Family Matters

  Read an excerpt at the end of this ebook

  This series has been a labor of love—and I looked forward to writing Lana’s story since the beginning, excited to see how I would manage to get her and Blake back together. But I wouldn’t have gotten this book done, and in readable shape without a lot of help from my friends.

  Thanks to my first-round critiquers: Tamara Hart Heiner, Adrienne Torkildson and Maria Hoagland, and to Cami Checketts who was a second-round reader. Also, as always, huge thanks to my hubby, Bill for creating my cover and doing a final check for punctuation, spelling, and story issues that I missed.

  Heather Tullis has been reading romance for as long as she can remember and has been publishing in the genre since 2009. When she’s not dreaming up new stories to write, she runs with the local volunteer ambulance, enjoys gardening, playing with her chickens, geese and ducks, cake decorating and working with her husband in their small business.

  Learn more about her at her website at http://heathertullis.blogspot.com/ or her Facebook fan page http://www.facebook.com/HeatherTullisBooks.

  “Today’s tragedy is going to change your life. For the better I think.”

  Rosemary looked up from the salmon she was deboning and saw Sage standing beside her at the restaurant kitchen counter. “Yeah? Thanks for the heads up, but I’m a little too busy for tragedy today.” Still, she felt a little shiver go down her spine. Sage’s predictions had a way of coming true, even if she couched them in vague enough terms that the average person might ignore the warnings. The word tragedy rang again in her mind—it was fairly certain she wasn’t referring to a burned dish or dropped appetizer. “Not enough going on in your own department right now?”

  Sage didn’t react to the clipped words, her wide, brown eyes studying Rosemary calmly. Her olive skin and curling brown hair gave her the look of a gypsy—a not inapt comparison considering the random, always-accurate predictions. Though the half-sisters hadn’t known each other long, Rosemary had seen enough of these predictions to believe in them.

  “The spa is busy, but I had a few minutes’ break and thought I should come warn you. It’s been on my mind since I woke up this morning,” Sage said. The chaos of breakfast preparation whirled around them, pans clattering, dishes clanking and staff calling back and forth to each other as they prepared for the convention, while feeding late breakfast patrons in the restaurant.

  “Well, thanks for stopping by. I think.” Rosemary didn’t want to dwell on what the tragedy was going to be if there was no way to avert it. And how could it have a positive outcome?

  Sage touched Rosemary’s arm. “Just remember. Good things come out of bad sometimes too. And this will definitely be one of them.” She gave her arm a little squeeze, then breezed out.

  It was nice no longer seeing evidence of the worry and stress that had plagued Sage through the summer and fall, but Rosemary wondered if it left too much time for her to worry about the rest of the sisters. She stretched her back muscles, forcing away the shiver of discomfort Sage’s prediction had caused. Maybe Sage had misunderstood her impressions.

  It had been a fourteen-hour day when Rosemary returned home, her feet sore, her muscles complaining, and with another long day ahead of her tomorrow—but at least everything was ready for the next day. Sage’s warning had flitted into her thoughts several times through the day, but nothing she would consider tragic had happened, unless you counted the server who tripped over her own feet and dropped a table’s meals just before she reached them.

  That had been a mess, and the restaurant had to comp the meals, but Rosemary would hardly consider it a tragedy. She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and kicked off her shoes in the middle of the aisle, mostly with the hope of annoying Delphi. She poured herself some hot water from the espresso machine, grabbed one of Sage’s secret tea blends and stepped into the sunken living room to join Delphi in watching the news.

  “Anything interesting in your neck of the woods?” Rosemary asked as the newscasters droned on about some new legislation the Colorado House of Representatives was trying to push through.

  “I dealt with a hysterical bride because the linens we ordered are a shade too pink for her reception, a CEO who decided to add an extra ten rooms for his convention this weekend, despite the fact that we’re already at capacity, but I’m not having any trouble with my employees. You?” Delphi brushed the short, blond hair back from her face.

  A lot of people thought they were the two sisters who the most alike, but Rosemary didn’t see it—and not just in personality. She was tall with long, blond hair that she had to braid out of the way while she worked in the kitchen and she had to fight to keep the extra weight off. Delphi was thin without exercise or paying attention to what she ate and totally uncoordinated, in opposition to the genteel, polished way she presented herself in every situation—at least when she was in public. Their histories were also total opposites, but that was another story.

  Rosemary pushed the comparison away. “Things ran mostly fine in the restaurant, the convention banquets went well—unless you’ve heard something I haven’t—and I got my food order done. No major catastrophes—despite Sage saying a tragedy was going to change my life today.” She tried to blow the warning off as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but still felt an itch between her shoulder blades when she thought of it.

  “Sage gave you a warning? That sounds ominous.” Delphi took another sip from her teacup, the soft scent wafting over to Rosemary said it held chamomile.

  “New information regarding the bombing of a Washington DC café has just come in,” a blond news anchor announced on the television. She stared into the camera with a serious expression. “Senator Gary Lampert of Minnesota is confirmed as having died in the blast, along with at least eight other people after a bomb was shot through a window during lunch hour. Authorities are still trying to track down suspects.” She went on to discuss the controversial legislation the senator had been trying to pass and how it wasn’t expected to get enough votes without his push behind it.

  Delphi looked at Rosemary. “You’re from DC; maybe that’s your tragedy.” She pointed to the television. Everyone was starting to believe Sage’s predictions, despite the fact that it was so unlikely.

  The camera panned back, showing the row of storefronts on the street. Rosemary recognized the café sign hanging crooked against the wall and sighed. She loved the little café and had been going there for decades. “It sure is. They make the best cannoli at that shop. It’s even better than mine.”

  “Liar.” Delphi picked up the remote and turned off the television. “No one’s cannoli is better than yours, as much as I might hate to admit that.”

  Though the loss of the café gave Rosemary wistful beats of nostalgia, Delphi’s unusual compliment did make her feel a little better. “I’m off to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a doozy.” Rosemary carried her tea up to her room to sip on while she prepared for bed, wondering if she’d known anyone who’d been hurt in the bombing.

  The morning zoomed by as the restaurant staff got the continental breakfast out for the finance conference, then turned their attention t
o preparing the lunches.

  Rosemary double-checked the croissants they had made fresh that morning to ensure there were enough and that they looked right for the lunch sandwiches when there was a knock on the storage room door. “Come in,” she called as she checked them off her list.

  “Hey, um, Deputy Oliver wants to talk to you.” It was one of the servers, looking a little nervous to be interrupting Rosemary.

  She scowled, but set down her clipboard on the shelf and responded coolly. “Thank you for letting me know.” What was he doing there? She’d paid that speeding ticket, already. It wasn’t like she’d been going that fast, either. A funny thought niggled in the back of her mind, saying that this was important, but she shoved it back, determined to face the cop professionally.

  “Hello,” she greeted him just outside the kitchen doors with a smile. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Is there somewhere quieter where we can talk?” he asked.

  Her stomach quivered a little, but she pointed to a private room a few feet away and he led the way. Why would he need to talk to her alone, anyway?

  When he was well away from everyone else, the deputy turned to face Rosemary. “Please have a seat.”

  “Do I need to sit?” she asked, sinking into the one he pointed to. “Is there something wrong with my mother?” The thought gave her twisted feelings of both wistfulness and apathy—which made her feel terrible.

  “No, your family is fine. You’re originally from Washington DC, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You know a couple named Don and Cecelia Markham?” He consulted his notebook to make sure he got the names correct.

  “Yes. Are they okay?” Now real fear gripped her and her lungs became tight.

  “Did you hear about the senator who was killed in that café bombing in DC yesterday?” When she nodded that she had, he continued. “It seems they were there at the time. I’m very sorry. They didn’t make it.”