by Carrie Elks
She noticed his declaration of love, but didn’t comment. That could wait. “And what stops that voice from telling you what to do the next time you’re afraid?”
“I do.” His voice was firm. “Because I know how damn destructive it is. How I’ve let it rule my life for too long. I push people away because I’m scared of letting them down, and then it becomes a self-fulling prophecy.” His eyes flickered to hers. “The way it did with you.”
She could see the hurt in his eyes. It reflected her own. “Can you tell me about your parents?” she asked softly. “Why do you think you’re responsible for their death?”
“Because they wouldn’t have been in the car if it wasn’t for me.” He raked his hands through his hair, giving her the briefest of smiles. “They were driving to see me for my birthday. I was away at college, and it was supposed to be a surprise. Originally, I was to come home to celebrate, but at the last minute I got a better offer. I wanted to stay and party with my friends.” There was a faraway look in his eyes. “I think it was my mom’s idea that they surprise me on Sunday morning with brunch. She and Belle had baked pastries and bought juice, and they were going to get coffee before they arrived at my apartment.”
“But they didn’t make it.” Meghan winced at the thought of a young Rich discovering his life had changed in the blink of an eye. And blaming himself for it.
“No, they didn’t. About half an hour into the drive, they got hit by a truck driving on the wrong side of the road. My parents didn’t stand a chance. It’s a miracle Belle survived, but she did. Or at least, part of her did.”
“I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. She could tell how painful it still was for him to recount. “When I opened the door and saw the cops there, I thought it was some kind of joke. I didn’t believe it at first. Who can believe something like that would happen to them? And then they told me about Belle and that was almost worse because I knew I could never make it up to her. Losing her ability to walk, to live a normal life, and her parents all at the same time.” He pinched his nose with his fingers. “I did that to her.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“They wouldn’t have been on the road if it wasn’t for me. They wouldn’t have been there for the truck to drive into. It’s completely my fault.”
Meghan inhaled through her half-open lips. “We make decisions like that every day. All of us. Whether to go to the store now, or later. Whether to walk or take the car. We don’t know the consequences of our choices until they happen. And sometimes those consequences are terrible. And sometimes nothing happens. You didn’t want them to die. You weren’t driving that truck. You just made the kind of choice that young people all over the world make. And I know it cost you everything you love, but that doesn’t make it your fault.”
Rich swallowed hard, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the vulnerability in them. The boy he’d once been. Her heart ached for him.
“I made a decision at a similar age,” she told him. “To go to a concert and sleep with the wrong man. Anything could have happened, but in my case I got Isla and I’ll always be thankful for that. Life is like that. We make little decisions that have big impacts sometimes. We don’t know what they’ll be until they happen, and I can tell you for certain that we can’t undo them. But we can forgive ourselves and understand it isn’t our fault. That’s what you need to do. Not for me, but for you.”
“How did you get so damn wise?”
“I grew up quickly. Like somebody else I know.” She gave him a half smile, and it made him inhale quickly, his chest rising.
“You can’t be a friend to anybody else until you’re a friend to yourself,” she told him. “But once you are, I have a feeling you’ll make a wonderful friend.”
“Will I be a friend to you?” Hope flashed in his eyes.
Meghan nodded. “Yeah, I really think you will.” She couldn’t promise more. Not yet. She wanted to, but she had more people to think about than herself. But she could still feel the draw to him, the aching need to be in his arms.
One step at a time. That’s what she should have done before.
He nodded slowly. “Friends without the plus.”
“For now.”
“I’ll take it.” His expression was serious. “I want nothing more than to be your friend.”
31
He was pursuing her. That’s the only way she could describe it. Not in an icky, overt kind of way, but in a sweet, friendly fashion that was making her heart ache. If he went out for a coffee, he’d bring her one back exactly the way she liked it. If she was overrun at the ice cream shop, he’d dive in and help, looking way too hot in the plastic gloves that she’d given him.
And then there was Isla. For the last four weeks, he’d taken her down to the pool and helped her hone her dives, telling Meghan it was her chance to have a break for a while. And when they’d come up, their skin pink from the heat and hair wet and smelling of chlorinated water, she’d ask him if he’d like to come in for a drink and he’d always say no, then he’d leave them to it.
He was giving her space, and she knew it was the right thing, but it made her ache. Because the attraction between them hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it was even stronger.
He’d revealed his vulnerability to her, and it made him a hundred times more attractive. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out.
The last weeks of the tourist rush were leading to a bigger footfall than ever, which meant all hands on deck in the shop, especially on a busy Saturday like today. Rich had apologized about ten times that he couldn’t help out because he was working a day shift. She’d shooed him away and called in all her casual staff, then asked her parents to take Isla for the weekend.
By the time she’d served her final sundae, her whole body ached. That didn’t stop her from smiling as Harper walked into the shop, her long blonde-and-pink hair flowing down her back, a pretty yellow-and-white vintage fifties-style dress flaring out around her thighs.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” Meghan said. “I was hoping I could get home and get changed in time, but it’s been non stop.”
“It’s been crazy everywhere today,” Harper agreed. “There was traffic coming in and out of town. And you could hardly see a grain of sand on the beach there were so many people.”
It was a little quieter now. The sun was still above the horizon, and its rays were still warming, but in another hour they would disappear for the night. Harper helped Meghan stack up the chairs and tables from outside, then she locked the door and turned the sign on it to ‘closed’, while Meghan ran into the office to change her clothes and touch up her makeup. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, fluffing her red hair around her shoulders, Harper let out a low whistle.
“If you can look like that after a few minutes, I’d hate to see how devastating you are after an hour.”
“I learned the art of quick changes after Isla was born.” Meghan grinned at her. “And I’ve sprayed so much damn perfume it’s sent my head spinning.”
Harper had booked them a table at Delmonico’s On The Pier, a pretty little Italian restaurant that Meghan kept meaning to try but never had. Their pasta was made on site, and was so delicious Meghan ate way too much. They also managed to get through a bottle of Prosecco plus some Limoncello shots between them, and were giggly as hell.
It felt good to spend time with a girl friend. A real estrogen rush she’d been missing. Grant and Kevin were great, and of course Gloria was always there for some gossip. But nothing beat having wine and food with a woman her age who knew exactly how it felt to be woken up in the middle of the night by a screaming baby.
“And then James decided it would be a great idea for Alyssa to wander around naked after her bath. Except he forgot to put the potty out, so Alyssa took the matter into her own hands,” Harper said, her nose wrinkling. “In the middle of the hallway. And he didn’t even notice.”
�
�Oh no.” Meghan grimaced. She had some potty training horror stories of her own.
“That’s not the worst part.” Harper waved her hand and leaned forward. “I only discovered it when I woke up from a nap and was rushing to the bathroom… in my bare feet.”
“You didn’t…” Meghan covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh I did. Stepped right in it. Then started heaving in the middle of the damn hallway and threw up on the floor.” She shook her head. “James is still groveling. How he let her out of his sight for long enough to do that on the floor, I’ll never know.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Tell me it gets better.”
“Oh it does,” Meghan reassured her. “I don’t even get called into the bathroom to admire what she’s made anymore.”
Harper almost spat out her wine. “Dear god, how did we end up like this? Talking about potty training on a girls’ night out.”
“I have no idea. But at least James is groveling. That must be nice.”
“He’s brought me coffee in bed every morning this week.” Harper nodded. “Talking of groveling, how’s it going with Rich?”
Meghan’s lips curled. “Good, I think. He’s been really kind to Isla, taking her swimming and helping with her science homework.”
“And how about you? Has he been kind to you?” Harper pulled her lip between her teeth.
“Yeah, he has.” She told Harper about him helping in the ice cream shop, and the way he’s brought her coffee whenever he went out. “He’s been so sweet.”
Harper sighed, putting her hands over her heart. “That’s more than sweet. That’s wooing.”
Meghan laughed. “That’s an old fashioned way of putting it.”
“Oh, I’d love to be wooed,” Harper said. “Like one of those black and white screwball comedies where Cary Grant is only nice to the heroine.”
She tried to imagine Rich in black and white, but failed miserably. He was too vibrant for that.
“So, when will you be wooed?” Harper asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what happens next? You can’t live like this forever, can you? It’s nice to get coffee and homework help, but don’t you want more?”
“More?”
“When are you going to kiss him?” Harper lowered her voice. “Or do other stuff?”
Meghan blushed. “I don’t know. He hasn’t made a move.”
“Have you?” Harper tipped her head to the side. “Because this is the twenty-first century. And maybe he doesn’t want to push you.”
“I haven’t, no.” Meghan’s brows scrunched. “Do you really think he’s waiting for me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s playing the long game. But how long do you want to wait?”
Meghan took a sip of her drink. The memory of their last meeting – in the elevator up to the tenth floor – flashed through her mind. Isla had been with them, but she could still feel the pull toward him. And when she’d looked his way, he had been staring right at her, his gaze so intense it took her breath away. She hadn’t been able to look away. Thank goodness Isla was too busy on her iPad to notice the way they were looking at each other.
“I don’t know how long I want to wait,” she admitted.
“So what’s stopping you from going home and knocking on his door tonight? You don’t have Isla, do you?”
Meghan shook her head. “No, she’s at my folks until tomorrow.” She swallowed hard. “He might be at work.”
“He’s not. James spoke to him earlier.”
“Oh.” Meghan’s heart started to hammer against her ribcage. Harper was right, there was only so long they could keep this thing between them to only friendship. She wanted more, and she knew he did, too. But there was still this voice in her head telling her that he could hurt her again. That she needed to be sure to guard her and Isla’s hearts from the man who had the power to turn their lives upside down.
She exhaled heavily. “I guess I need to think about that.”
“I guess you do. In the meantime, let’s get the check.” Harper smiled over at the waitress. “We should definitely do this again some time.”
“I’d like that.”
Harper winked. “Maybe next time we could make it a double date.”
The tenth floor was silent as Meghan stepped out of the elevator. She glanced at Gloria’s door, then over at Grant and Kevin’s, before walking determinedly to Rich’s apartment door and lifting her hand up to knock on the wood.
But then she had second thoughts and stepped back. Maybe she’d talk to him in the morning instead. Or send him a message. As she slinked back to her own apartment and let herself in, she shook her head at her trepidation.
Five minutes later, she’d taken her dress off and was in the shower, letting the hot spray wash over her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but nothing could stop her heart from racing in her chest.
They needed to talk, she knew that. And one of them had to make the first move. Last month, he’d been vulnerable, told her about his family and the fears he had of not being good enough. Of hurting others the way he believed he’d hurt his sister.
And he’d asked her to give him a chance.
Now she was the scared one. She blinked her eyes, grabbing her bottle of shampoo, and rubbed it in furiously as she thought about that.
She was afraid of being hurt. Of Isla getting hurt, too. But she knew that fear stopped you from living the way you wanted to live. It stopped you from being honest, from being open to good things.
It was stopping her from telling him she loved him.
Once she’d washed out her conditioner, she turned the shower off and toweled herself dry, grabbing a pair of fresh pajamas from the drawer beside her bed. She looked at herself in the mirror, at her freshly scrubbed face, her red hair made darker by the dampness, and the short pajamas that barely covered her.
She had to talk to him.
That was the only way to move forward. She took a deep breath, and picked up her phone. She’d call him. That way he had an out if he needed it. But before she could press his name on the screen she heard a knock at her door.
Her hands shook as she pushed down the handle. It didn’t shock her to see him standing on the other side, wearing a pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt that molded to his torso. But it still made her heart jump the way it always did when he was around.
“Hey.” He gave her a half smile. “I saw you outside my door earlier. I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”
She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down for a goddamn moment. “No, I’m not okay. Can you come in? We need to talk.”
He wasn’t sure there was a more beautiful sight in the whole world than Meghan Hart wearing shortie pajamas, with her wet hair brushed back from her gorgeous heart-shaped face. It took everything he had not to touch her. Because that’s all he could think about right now. The smell of her shampoo filled his senses, making his heart thud against his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he stepped into her apartment, closing the door softly behind him.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know.” Her hands were still shaking. She looked down at them, frowning. “I guess I’m afraid.”
“What of? Has someone hurt you?” He blinked. “Is it Carlyn? Has she contacted you?” His hands curled into fists.
She shook her head. “It’s not Carlyn. It’s me. I’m afraid of me.”
“Why are you afraid of yourself?”
“Because I’m in love with you, and I’m scared I’m going to end up getting hurt.”
The knife that had been lodged in his heart for the past few months loosened itself, and for the first time in forever it felt easy to breathe.
She loved him. It felt like the biggest prize he’d ever been given. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. I love you, too, sweetheart.” He reached out to cup her face. Her skin felt warm and d
amp. “And you don’t need to explain to me about being afraid. I get it. More than anybody else in the world. But I’m never going to hurt you again. I couldn’t stand it. I want to protect you, not hurt you. Love you, not scare you.” He inhaled softly. “You’re it for me. I wake up at crazy hours, and it’s always you I see there. You’re it for me, Meghan. And you don’t know how goddamned good it feels to know you feel the same.”
He lifted his other hand, cradling her face in his palms, dropping his head until his brow was touching hers. He could feel the warm breath escaping from her trembling lips, and the flutter of her eyelashes against his skin.
“So you want me?” she whispered.
“Want is such a weak word to describe how I feel about you. And need is wrong, too. When I look at my future, I see you and Isla in it. Center stage. The two of you goofing around in my kitchen, or laughing at me when I bomb into the swimming pool. I want to be the reason you smile, the person who’s always by your side. I want to be part of you, the way you’re already part of me.”
She inhaled a ragged breath. “You already are. You have been for a while.”
“That’s all I need to hear.” He smiled softly at her. “So now the rest is just details. When we decide to move in together. When we get married.” He winked to let her know he was joking. “When we tell Isla, which I guess we should do before any of those things.”
She laughed. “I guess we should. And I want to tell her soon.”
His eyes flashed. “So do I.” Because he wasn’t sure he could hold back from touching her every time they passed in the hallway or rode up the elevator. Now that he knew she felt the same way he did, he never wanted to let her go. “Is Isla here?”
She shook her head. “No, she’s at my parents house until tomorrow.” There was a half-smile on her face that he wanted to kiss away. “We’re all alone right now.”
“We are?” He tucked a stray lock of wet hair behind her ear. She shivered at his touch, and damn if that didn’t make him want her more. “That’s interesting.”
