by Karen Cimms
What the hell? An unsettling jealousy washed over him as he watched his wife and his lawyer hugging it out in front of him. It went on so long he wanted to stalk over and tear Kate out of Tom’s arms, but he didn’t. His caveman behavior had landed him in enough trouble recently. And maybe Tom and Joey had been friends. Hell, he didn’t know all Joey’s friends, that’s for sure. He watched and waited, maybe not patiently, but he kept his mouth shut.
When they finally broke apart and walked toward Joey’s room, Billy reached for Kate’s hand.
She waved him off. “It’s okay. Just wait for me in the other room. We’re just going to say our goodbyes.” She nodded at him, as if he would understand what the hell she meant and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving him alone in the empty hallway.
What the ever-loving fuck? Billy stood gaping at the door, his mouth open.
“Just love her, that’s all I’m asking.”
Billy dragged his hands through his hair, staring at the closed door as Joey’s words played over again in his head.
“Just love her more.”
More? How was that even possible?
Chapter Nineteen
Dark, noiseless, suffocating. Joey’s loft wore death like a shroud. The surrounding buildings blocked out the sun’s last rays, and other than the dim light from a table lamp, the apartment was gloomy. Even the sound of traffic seven floors below was muted.
Although he was alone, Billy spoke in low tones as he arranged for a car to pick Devin up at the airport. He’d spent much of the past two days making arrangements for the few things that had to be done. Joey, the ultimate control freak, had already planned almost every last detail of his funeral. The only thing he hadn’t been able to control was when or how he would die.
Billy scanned the list Tom had faxed a day earlier. He’d called the musicians’ union and finalized details for a string quartet, organist, choir, and—even Kate was surprised by the last item—a bagpiper. Hopefully his own Celtic roots would behave themselves. The damn things always made him tear up.
After calling Rhiannon to check on the program and remind her what she needed to bring, Billy stretched, working out a kink in his neck. It was almost eight, and he was starving. Kate needed to eat as well. He removed a half-empty bottle of white zinfandel from the refrigerator and uncorked it. Just one quick swallow? Dig in, man. He pulled out a bottle of water for himself, then carried both up the spiral staircase to the rooftop garden.
The sky had turned deep shades of inky-blue and pink. The setting sun reflected off the glass-faced buildings of lower Manhattan. Curled on a chaise lounge, Kate stared off into nothingness, unaware that he had returned. Her empty wine glass sat on a nearby table. Billy refilled it, then reached down and kneaded the tight muscles in her shoulders, working his thumbs into the knots at the base of her neck. Her head dropped forward and she let out a deep sigh. He lifted her hair and draped it over her shoulder, longing to press his lips against the top of her spine.
“How’re you doing?” he asked after working on her neck and shoulders for a few minutes. He pulled a chair alongside her.
She gave him a weak smile. “Numb.”
He was well-acquainted with the feeling. “Devin’s all set. He’s flying into Newark tomorrow afternoon. There’ll be a car waiting to pick him up.”
“Thank you.”
You’re welcome seemed so formal. He nodded instead.
“I asked if he wanted to stay with Rhiannon and Doug at the hotel, but he said he’d rather be here with you.”
“My baby.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s one big baby.”
Lights in nearby buildings were beginning to flicker on.
“It seems so quiet, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yeah, I was thinking that myself.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back. An airplane passed overhead, the last rays of sunlight glittering on its silver skin. “Why didn’t we ever move to the city?”
Kate raised her eyebrows. “I don’t ever remember discussing that.”
“Really? I thought it was something we both wanted. I’m sure we talked about it.”
She studied the wine in her glass as if it held some mystical answers. “Life didn’t turn out the way either of us planned, did it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, suddenly feeling defensive. “There are some things I’d change, but overall—”
Her cell phone interrupted him.
“It’s Tom. I have to take this.” She rose and walked to the other side of the roof, almost out of earshot.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, her voice soft. “How’re you doing?”
Billy’s jaw tightened. He leaned into his chair, threw his head back, and emptied the bottle of water. Too bad it wasn’t Jack Daniels. His fingers dug into the edge of the chair when she asked Tom if he wanted to stay at the loft.
“It would be uncomfortable,” she whispered. “I understand.”
She hung up and came back to sit on the chaise. He searched her face for a sign of what was going on with Tom, but all he saw was the same quiet grief she’d worn for the past two days. He wanted to ask why it would be “uncomfortable,” but held his tongue once she reached across the glass-topped table between them to trace the black swirls of the tattoo on his forearm.
“Thank you.” Her chin quivered. “You’ve really stepped up. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
He took her hand, and she made no effort to pull it back.
“I was just telling Tommy how wonderful you’ve been through all this.”
Funny. That part, he hadn’t heard.
After dinner—sushi for him and the old standby sweet and sour chicken for Kate—Billy offered to do the dishes, but she insisted. When the kitchen was spotless the way Joey liked it, she joined him on the ultramodern leather sofa.
“What’re you watching?”
“Pawn Stars.”
When she made a face, he held out the remote, but she shook her head.
“I don’t care. It’s not like I’m paying attention anyway.” She shifted her weight, and tucked her legs beneath her. A few minutes later, she leaned forward and turned in the other direction. “This couch isn’t very comfortable, is it?”
“Not really, why? You wanna sleep on it?”
“Not really.” She wrapped her arms around the ikat pillow in her lap, bringing it to her chest. “I feel bad. You’re doing so much, and you look so tired.”
The loft had two bedrooms. Kate had declared Joey’s room off limits, and she had been using the tiny guest room. After Billy had put her to bed the previous night, he settled in on the couch, not wanting to make any assumptions as far as their relationship was concerned, but he hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. He’d ended up on the roof, stretched out on the chaise lounge until the sun came up just before six and nearly blinded him.
“If you’d be more comfortable, you can sleep with me.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up.
“I said sleep.”
He lifted his hands to proclaim his innocence.
“It’s just that the next couple of days are going to be hard, and you need sleep too. This sofa probably cost a fortune, but it’s not comfortable. I’m not sure it’s even meant for sitting on, let alone sleeping.”
“I hear you.” He stifled a yawn. “If that’s a firm offer, I’d love to take you up on a good night’s sleep because I’m fried.”
Billy had left his briefs on—an unusual concession to their unusual situation—and was well over on the right side of the bed facing the window when Kate came in later. She took her time washing her face and brushing her hair in hopes that he’d be asleep by the time she climbed in beside him.
She turned off the bedside lamp, but the room was still flooded with light from the street. It didn’t bother her, but Billy was obviously still awake.
“Do you want me to pull the shade?” she asked.
He rolled toward her
and lifted himself up onto his elbow, his face just inches from hers, his hair caressing her cheek. “I’m so tired, I don’t think it’ll matter.”
His breath was warm on her face. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, or maybe she should’ve slept on the couch. She wanted to touch his face, wrap her arms around him. She missed him so much, but everything was such a mess.
Sex wouldn’t fix anything. It would be another way of shoving everything under the rug until next time. A week ago, she’d been certain it was over, but her heart had convinced her otherwise. Next time, they might not be so lucky.
“Good night, Katie.”
“Night.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
He leaned forward. Her mind went blank as he dragged his nose along the edge of her jaw. He pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth, and her heart slammed into her rib cage. She wanted to kiss him back, to run her fingers through his hair and hold onto him for dear life, but she didn’t dare. She knew exactly what would happen if she moved.
When he was finished with her mouth, he kissed the tip of her nose and then her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered before rolling away, his back to her.
She kept her body still, although her heart was ricocheting in her chest. Could he feel it? Surely he knew what he did to her. Before long, she could tell by his breathing that he had fallen asleep.
Only then did she allow herself to take a full breath.
Chapter Twenty
Nothing had changed. Friends laughed at an outdoor café. People stood in line to see the latest flick at a Soho cinema. A man pushed a baby stroller, holding hands with a woman who carried a fluffy white dog with a blue bow on its head strapped into a harness on her chest.
Life went on in spite of death.
Crammed into the back of Doug’s Lexus with Kate and Devin, Billy couldn’t help but marvel at the contrast. The silence in the car was deafening. Other than the muted hum of voices and traffic outside, the only sound came from the mindless thrumming of Kate’s finger over the silver cuff bracelet he had given her before they left for the wake.
She’d been standing in the rooftop garden, looking out over Tribeca toward the Freedom Tower, when he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Surprisingly, she leaned into him. Other than the times she’d allowed him to hold her when she cried or kiss her good night, they’d hardly touched. Emboldened, he wrapped his arms around her. He felt rather than heard her sigh. They stood there watching the sun reflect off the glass of the lone tower as it lowered in the late afternoon sky. He would have stood there as long as she wanted—until the sun fell all the way into the Pacific Ocean, if need be.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No, but I will be.”
“I have something for you.” Taking her hand, he led her to a chair. He sat across from her and pulled the iconic blue box from his pocket.
“What’s this?”
“I’m ashamed to say it’s your birthday present, but that’s what it is. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you before. I had it. I even have the receipt, if you don’t believe me. I bought it in Atlanta. I was too busy screwing up to give it to you.”
She rested the box in her lap as carefully as if he’d told her it was a vial of nitroglycerin.
“Open it.”
She tugged off the white satin ribbon, letting it drift to the floor, and lifted the bracelet from the box.
“They’re olive leaves,” he said. “Of course I didn’t know I’d be needing an olive branch when I bought it. Kind of appropriate, don’t you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” She slipped it over her delicate wrist, admiring it, and then leaned forward and kissed him—a kiss that started out chaste, but she took it further. Much further.
At that moment, he’d believed he was forgiven, that no matter what happened, they’d be okay.
But now he wasn’t so sure.
They’d arrived at the wake early to allow time to see Joey alone. Billy assumed he would take Kate in first so she could have a private farewell, but she wanted to wait, so he sat on a chair in the hall. Maybe she was trying to come to grips with saying her last goodbye. He fidgeted nervously and was about to stand up and try to gently hurry her along when Tom arrived.
As soon as she saw him, Kate flew to his side.
Every muscle in Billy’s body tensed as she slipped her arm around Tom’s waist and kissed his cheek. And the whispering—what the fuck was that about? When he didn’t think he could stand it a moment longer, he walked over and shook Tom’s hand—even though he would have preferred ripping his head off—then slipped a proprietary arm around Kate’s shoulders.
“We need to go in now if you want any time alone with Joey. There are a lot of people expected and—”
She patted his hand and gave him a tight smile. “I know. Thank you.”
Then, incredibly, she turned away from him and slipped her hand into the crook of Tom’s arm. “Tom? Would you mind?”
Tom opened his mouth but said nothing. At least the fucker had the decency to behave like whatever was going on was wrong. Regardless, Billy still wanted to pound him into the carpet.
“Katie!” His voice was louder than he intended. “What’re you doing? I’ll take you.”
She patted Billy’s arm dismissively. “I know, but Tom would like a moment, too.” Then she fucking winked at him. As if that would make him understand.
Well, it didn’t.
Tom shifted nervously. “Yeah.” The bastard cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind.”
Billy gritted his teeth so hard he thought his jaw would crack. He nodded and forced his fists to unclench as he watched his wife do one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do—on the arm of another man.
“What the hell was that about?”
Rhiannon stood at his side. Billy shook his head as the door to the viewing parlor closed, leaving him on one side and Kate and Tom on the other.
“I have no idea.”
He was still pissed when Doug dropped them off at the loft after the wake. Kate remained standing by the curb, looking lost.
“You coming?”
If Kate caught the irritation in his voice, she didn’t react. “Can we walk?”
Yeah, because a casual stroll through Tribeca was what he felt like doing about now. What he really wanted was to wait for her to go to sleep so he could find where Joey had stashed his liquor. Instead, he jammed the keys back into his pocket.
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”
“The waterfront.”
He pressed his hand against the small of her back as they crossed Hudson Street, then jammed it back into his pocket. He studied her face in the lights from the shops and street lamps as they navigated the cobblestone street.
“Katie?”
She brushed away a lone tear and glanced up. “What?”
She was grieving. It was killing him to have things so strained between them, but now wasn’t the right time to discuss his failings as a life partner.
He shook his head. “Nothing. You okay?”
She shrugged.
Fuck it. Maybe he was overreacting about this shit with Tom. It was probably nothing. She’d said Joey and Tom were friends. He was just in a bad place right now, letting things get the better of him. A drink would help clear his head, but he couldn’t go there. Not if he had a prayer of fixing things with Kate. He slipped his arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side. When they got to the end of the street, they found a bench and sat. Across the river, the lights of Jersey City twinkled on the water.
“Remember when we lived in Bayonne, and we’d sit in the little park and watch the water?”
“I think I can remember back that far.” He gave her a sidelong glance and smiled.
“Maybe we should’ve stayed there.”
“Maybe. I think they’re considered waterfront condos now.”
She looked up, incredulous. “No way.”
“Yep.
We probably couldn’t afford it anymore.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“Besides, we needed a bigger place.”
She nodded. “We did. But something happened to us. It’s like as soon as we bought that house, life became serious or something. Something changed.”
His stomach turned over. He shook his head. “Nothing changed.”
She gave a low but derisive snort. “You didn’t want to move there, and just like our wedding, you offered and I jumped at it without thinking what was best for you.”
“You were thinking about what was best for us. I was just thinking about myself. You were right.”
“I don’t know.” She traced a crack in the sidewalk with the toe of her black funeral heels. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For standing in your way, holding you back.”
“Never.” He vehemently shook his head. “I’ll never be sorry. Neither should you.”
But her phone was ringing, and he had no idea if she’d heard him. Without so much as an apology for the interruption, she jumped up and walked to the railing that lined the sidewalk as she answered. “Hi, Tommy.”
Billy slouched lower on the bench. He wanted to throw her goddamn phone into the Hudson. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the bottle of tranquilizers he had insisted her doctor prescribe for her in case she needed them to get through the funeral. He popped one into his mouth and swallowed it dry. He needed it more than she did. After all, she had Tommy.
Chapter Twenty-One
It should have been raining. Slow. Steady. An unrelenting drizzle. The kind of rain that chills you to the bone and makes you wonder if you’ll ever be warm again.
At least that would have made sense.
Kate stepped from the limo, squinting in spite of her dark glasses. Outlined against a clear cerulean sky, the historic stone building with its massive ionic columns looked more like a Greek temple than a Catholic church. It was Joey’s church, and the pastor knew him. She took comfort in that. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if the priest had begun his sermon with “I didn’t really know Joseph . . .”
