Foster stood in the doorway as she spoke and he strode toward the couch. He knelt in front of it, holding her hands and wiping away the tears as they fell. “Cinn, you haven’t broken my heart, sweetheart, but it feels crushed right now knowing you think you have.” He tucked a loose hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “I know you feel like I’m disappointed, but I’m actually relieved.”
“What do you mean, Foster?” I asked, sitting on the floor so he could sit by her on the couch. My hand rubbed Brutus’s ears as he had taken notice his girl was upset again and sat at attention. I stroked his fur as much for me as for him.
Foster held her against him and rubbed her arm. “I want a child, Cinn, but I’m not willing to risk your health to have one. I’ve never believed it would be a good idea to attempt a pregnancy because I might lose you and the baby, and I can’t live without you. I can’t lose you, Cinn. I need you to understand you’re enough for me. I’m always going to choose you,” he whispered. “You need to let go of the idea you can’t make me happy unless you give me children. I don’t feel so tied to my bloodline I can’t let it fall from the face of the earth without question. You are enough for me.”
Cinn nodded against his chest and glanced up. “You say that now, Foster, but what about ten years from now? Will you feel the same way? Those are the questions that keep me awake at night.”
“Cinn, Foster isn’t Josh. You have to stop treating him like he is,” I said, frustrated for my brother-in-law.
She moved faster than I’ve seen her move in a long time. Her finger was in my face and her angry fiery eyes were right behind it. “Don’t. You have no right to say anything to me, Lorenzo,” she hissed. “You want to talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I seem to remember several times when you forgot your current girlfriend wasn’t Monica.”
Brutus didn’t like the confrontation and moved between us, giving her finger one lick.
I hoisted myself up from the floor and stomped out the door, my hands shaking. She might be upset, but all I was doing was calling a spade a spade. Telling Foster she thinks he’s going to leave her the way Josh did, is not only disrespectful, but it’s wrong. It also has nothing to do with Monica. I slammed the door to my truck, threw it in reverse and backed out, swinging the truck toward the highway.
Deep breaths, Lorenzo, I told myself. She’s upset. She loves you and you love her. I kept repeating those words for a few minutes, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I was right. If she didn’t stop thinking this way, she would lose the one thing she was trying to hold onto. I smacked the steering wheel with my hand out of frustration. Why do women have to be so damn complicated? It was the same question I asked myself multiple times years ago, when my girlfriend, Monica, left me after four years of dating.
I had a ring in my pocket and was ready to propose when she left. We dated through high school, but apparently the idea of staying in Little Ivywood for life made her sick. I begged her to stay with me, but after a few weeks of being jerked around, I decided Monica didn’t love me as anything more than a friend. She proclaimed her love for me, but now I realize how immature and naïve we both were. She wanted someone to take her places and dote on her, but when you got down to the nitty gritty, she didn’t want to commit to one person for the rest of her life yet.
Being older and wiser now, I respect and agree with her decision. If we had married, we probably would have divorced as quickly as Cinn and Josh did. The difference is, unlike Cinn let on, I’ve never treated any of the women I’ve dated since as if they were Monica. It didn’t take me long after she left to see I had my head in the sand about our relationship for a lot of years. I didn’t love her as anything more than a friend either. While the rejection stung, the truth hurt even more. I returned the ring, and stopped dating for the first six months after I started college. I had my fair share of ‘hookups’, but they always left me feeling dirty and unfulfilled.
When I finished my first year at college I stopped playing free and easy with my body and instead focused on deciding exactly what I did and didn’t want out of life. I didn’t want one-night stands. I wanted a relationship based on mutual goals and love. It didn’t seem like I was asking too much, but I’ve learned the hard way it is. There’s a reason I’ve been celibate for years. I haven’t missed the entanglements simple sex inflicts on my life. I put my energy into my career and hoped one day I would meet the woman who made me feel more than sexual tension. I wanted the whole package - intelligence, common sense, conversation, laughter, and sexual tension, in that order.
I drove into the driveway of the woman I had left last night, and put the truck into park. Last night there had been sexual tension, but also a mutual understanding of each other. There had been conversation and laughter, and a few moments of intimacy. Those moments meant more to me than any one-night stand ever could. Stolen kisses and holding hands in the park were what we would both remember, not a roll in the hay after one date. I loved the way she focused intently on keeping her chair going one handed while we held hands. It couldn’t have been easy, but she was determined not to drop my hand. Something told me walking hand-in-hand was always a dream of hers, one which was never fulfilled. I prayed, in a way, I made it come true last night.
Even knowing how important last night was to her, it didn’t scare me or make me back away from her the way I have in the past. In fact, the moments we shared last night lit a flame in me and made me want to see her again. I wanted to get to know her better and discover her wishes and dreams all while taking an in-depth tour of her soul, so I could understand her fears. Kisses and random touches stoked the fire, but when, and if, we ever made love it would be because she was the one and I had done everything in my power to understand her completely.
I took a few deep breaths and jumped down from the truck, closing the door and leaning my head on the cool metal for a moment before striding to the front of the wheelchair ramp. I channeled my frustration with Cinn into the ramp, my practiced eye measuring the planes of the house, driveway, and doors. I jogged around the ramp on the backside and squatted, shaking the pillar in the middle. It had more play than a joystick of a videogame controller, and in a structure like this, that’s not a good thing. I yanked my tape measure off my pocket and did a few measurements to confirm my fears, the ramp’s middle brace support was nonexistent. This whole thing sat like a house of cards, ready to crumble at the slightest wind. While I was behind the ramp, I measured the height of the stairs on the front and did the same on the stairs in the back. I tugged my notebook from my back pocket and my pencil, writing down the measurements.
“Are you going to stare at the ramp all day or are you going to come in?” Cat called from the front door. I stuck the pencil behind my ear and walked up the ramp, being careful to keep my feet on the outside of the boards.
“Hi,” I said when I got to the door, kissing her on the cheek. “You’re interrupting the artist in his work,” I said, motioning toward the front of the house. “Actually, I was taking some measurements. How are you?” I asked, stepping in and letting the door close behind me.
“I’m great,” she answered, tugging me by my hand as she wheeled herself backward. “I’m glad you stopped over.”
The anxiety and anger at Cinn drained away a little as I stared into her beautiful amber eyes. “I promised I would,” I said, kneeling by her chair. “I keep my promises. Besides, I haven’t quit thinking about you since I left last night,” I admitted.
I leaned forward and held her eyes as my lips lowered toward hers. Her hand slithered up into my hair, knocking the pencil out, but neither of us cared. My lips were on hers and the kiss heated instantly. When we hit the boiling point, it was more than I could take. I dropped my jaw and let my tongue roam free, trailing along her closed lips, following my emotions and encouraging her to follow hers. She did and when her lips fell open, my tongue darted in to take possession of her mouth. I moaned softly, taking her face in my hands and rubbing my thumb acro
ss her temple, until she sighed with satisfaction.
My phone broke into song and I jumped back, feeling as if someone caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I put my hand to my chest. “Dang phone, it scared me.”
She laughed softly, her tone still low and sexy, as though the kiss had meant as much to her as it did to me. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” she asked.
My lips thinned into a grim line as I considered it and I finally shook my head. “I already know who it is. I don’t want to talk to her right now.”
Chapter Eight
I ran my hands through my hair and paced the floor. The scene with Cinn threw me, but the kiss with Cat destroyed me. My heart was broken by both women and I needed time to gather myself. Cinn broke it in a bad way when she went after me for being honest. Cat broke it in a beautiful way when she let me experience her own feelings and fears through our kiss.
Cat stopped me on the way by, tugged the phone from my pocket, and clicked the power button. “Cinn.”
“Yep, it was definitely her ringtone.” I held my hand out for the phone and she put it back in my hand, her head cocked to one side.
“How about I get you a beer and you tell me what happened?” she asked as I put the phone in my pocket.
“Probably not a good idea, Cat,” I said. “I’m here to talk with you about the ramp.”
She waved her hand at the front door. “The ramp can wait. I sense you could use a sandwich and a beer?” she asked again.
I leaned over her, resting my hands on her wheelchair. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are today?”
She snickered and grabbed my shirtfront. “You have, and I’m certain this is the picture of beauty after spending two hours hauling canvases around in the heat.”
“Yeah, you are,” I said, kissing her again before pushing myself up off her chair. “And I’m sorry for constantly kissing you. I’m out of sorts and probably shouldn’t have come today.”
She pointed to the couch for me to sit, so I did. She wheeled into the kitchen and I could hear her banging around making sandwiches. I took my phone out of my pocket again and read the text message when I heard it beep. Foster had texted and asked, “All I want to know is if you’re safe. The rest is between you and her.”
I tapped the phone on my hand for a minute and finally typed out the message. “I’m at Cat’s. I’m sorry if I got you in hot water, but I don’t regret what I said.”
His typing bubble popped up then down then up again. I wondered if he felt the same way I did right then, sick to my stomach and angry I let my temper get the better of me.
“No need to apologize. You hit a nerve because it’s a raw one, and you aren’t wrong. Give her some time and she’ll come around. Enjoy your time with Cat.”
I put the phone down when Cat rolled back in with a tray full of sandwiches, fruit, and two beers. She motioned me over to the table and set it all out, waiting for me to join her. I hoisted myself up and sat in a chair next to hers. I took a swig of beer, setting it down harder than I meant to and she paused in her work.
“Sorry. I’m screwing up with all the women I’m around today.”
She parked her chair and transferred to one of the dining room chairs. I stood and scooted her up to the table, so she could reach her food. She took a bite, making a point; It was time to eat, and then we would talk. I picked up my sandwich, checking it to find fresh medium rare roast beef and provolone cheese. I took a bite, the bread and cheese drawing out the flavor of the meat. I took a drink of my beer to wash it down. “Oh, this is sandwich nirvana,” I complimented her. “The bread tastes homemade.”
She nodded. “Because it is homemade. Baking is what I do when I’m bored, lonely, thinking, or having an artistic block.”
I raised a brow and glanced at the sandwich. “This bread can’t be more than a day old.”
She glanced at the clock and answered, “Fourteen hours, to be exact.”
I did the math and cocked my head sideways. “Why were you baking bread at two a.m.?” I asked, enjoying the sandwich. “Artistic block?”
She set her sandwich down and finished chewing before she answered. “No. I was thinking.”
“What were you thinking about?” I asked, leaning back with the rest of my beer.
“Life, love, and the pursuit of happiness?”
“I think it goes, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it does?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I asked, enjoying the banter with her.
“I’m relatively certain I was thinking about life, love and what equals happiness,” she answered smartly.
I tipped my beer up and took a moment to accept her words. “In my life it did, until this morning, anyway. Now, I’m not so sure life, love and the pursuit of happiness go together at all, or is something we can ever achieve.”
“Tell me what happened this morning to change your mind,” she said.
I leaned my elbows on the table and rested my forehead in my palms. “I stopped by to see Cinn this morning. Things ended on a sharp note.”
She chuckled, and the sound reminded me of the way a butterfly floats in the air, up and down, with a soft melody as it flits through the trees. “I see what you did there,” she said, reaching out and rubbing my shoulder. “But this doesn’t have anything to do with music, does it?”
When she touched me, my heart settled in my chest. “No. We were talking about Cinn not being able to let go of the fear Foster will leave her like Josh did.”
“Josh? Who’s Josh?” she asked, and then the light bulb came on. “She was with Josh Abernathy?”
I nodded, leaning back again in my chair. “She married him straight out of high school.”
“Man, I really have been in the dark. I had no idea she married that meathead.”
It was my turn to laugh, and I did. I laughed long and softly, not in a negative kind of way either, more in a relaxing kind of way. Maybe talking about this with her would, in the long run, help me talk to Cinn about it later.
“She agreed to marry him because she was scared of the big world outside of the things she understood like music, and, well, Josh. He proposed and she said yes, but she didn’t even make it all the way through college before their marriage fell apart and he took a hike.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Cinn got sick again and ended up in the hospital. She lost too much weight and we were sure we were going to lose her. She fought hard, but he didn’t, and by the time she left the hospital he had already packed his things and left.”
“Because he couldn’t deal with her illness? She was already sick by the time she met him,” she said, as she did the math in her head.
“Oh, he was fully aware of the disease and the side effects. I still say Cinn married him out of fear. She didn’t believe she would ever find anyone to love her because of the severity of her Crohn’s disease. She never loved him the way you should love a spouse, but Josh was her safety net, until the disease ripped a hole in him and he took off.”
She sat quietly for several minutes, twirling her beer bottle around on the table. When she glanced up at me, something in her eyes had changed. The feeling of sadness permeated my heart a little bit and I frowned. Whatever she was thinking about was in a dark corner of her soul.
“Now Cinn thinks because she can’t have kids Foster will leave, too?” she asked.
I touched my nose. “You nailed it. The thing is, he married her with his eyes wide open about her disease. He’s a veterinarian, and while he’s not exactly a human doctor, the majority of diseases still apply. Ultimately, he had doubts she would be able to carry a baby, but to keep her happy he entertained the notion.”
“Hmmmm,” she hummed, still playing with the moisture on her bottle. “What you’re saying is, Cinn’s life and love was tied up in something Foster wasn’t pursuing in order to complete his happiness.”
The whole
sentence sounded convoluted, but I paused for a minute before I asked her to repeat it. After a few moments, I understood exactly what she meant.
“Yes. Foster is happy to have Cinn, she’s his life and his love, and she’s all he needs to be happy. For some reason, it’s not enough for Cinn.”
She shook her head back and forth several times. “No, you’re wrong here, Lorenzo, because you’re leaving out an important factor.” I leaned forward and waited to hear what she had to share. “She’s a woman.”
I nodded along and waited, but she said nothing more. “Very good, you’re right, Cinn is a woman.”
She rolled her eyes at me and shoved me in the arm, calling me a doofus. “No, what I mean is, Cinn was raised in an environment where women get married and have kids. Their main job in life is to raise a family. All of a sudden, when you take a family out of the picture for Cinn, it’s about failure.”
I thunked myself on the forehead with my palm and left my head in my hand. “You’re right, dammit. All I did by mentioning Josh was make things worse.”
She shrugged. “Or, you called her on something that has been simmering in the background for a while now. Maybe Cinn needed to fail with Josh in order to succeed with Foster. She can’t let her disease control her, she has to control her disease and keep it in its place.”
“Do you keep control of everything so you don’t fail? Does it make it easier to get from day to day?” I asked sincerely.
She slid into her wheelchair and unlocked the wheels. “It’s something we all do, Ren. Women worry about not being able to have kids and if they do have them, they worry about being a bad parent. Men keep tight control of everything in their life because if they fail at a job or a relationship, they think it reflects poorly on them and shows weakness. Whether you like it or not, you can relate to how Cinn is feeling, you’re just choosing not to.”
The reason I stopped over there to start with ran through my mind. She was absolutely right and I laughed a little, at myself, and took her hand from her lap. “You might be right. Cinn and I are close, and this morning I stopped in to get her advice about my career. I guess I’m afraid the choices I make may end up reflecting poorly on me. As a man, I’m supposed to be successful at everything.”
Inherited Light_A Small-Town, California Romance Filled with Dogs, Deception, and Finding True Love Despite Our Imperfections Page 9
