“It’s definitely not nothing. You were having a nightmare. A bad one. I heard you call out from down the hall.” She walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “D’you want to talk about it?”
Gage was silent. He didn’t want to discuss anything right now — at least nothing to do with the dream or Michelle. He just wanted to listen to the sound of Sabrina’s voice, measured and calm, as she talked about something. Anything but this. Then he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her all night long. To fall back to sleep with her hair tickling his nose.
“Or not,” she added diffidently. She pressed a cool hand against his feverish brow. “I thought so. You’ve overheated. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
While Sabrina went to fetch the water, Gage looked around his old room. Maybe it had been a mistake to come back to this place when he could have rented a room at an extended stay hotel in Des Moines. He had made many happy memories in his grandparents’ home. There had been birthday parties with cherry-flavored cake made from the box and ice cream churned in his grandmother’s White Mountain. There were Christmas Eve sandwich dinners when everyone sat around whatever spindly, asymmetrical juniper he and Michelle had cut down and dragged home from the lake.
But the old house had seen its share of bad times too. It was just about to see another.
There was one thing Gage knew: Sabrina made all of it bearable.
**
Magic words. What are they?
Sabrina retrieved a plastic tumbler from the kitchen cabinet. Light from a lone streetlight flooded the small room and made everything look older and more dingy. She’d seen Gage in worse form before. She’d seen him angry, sullen and dismissive.
But never like this. Never so broken.
She glanced at the face of the cracked kitchen clock. It was three in the morning. Molly could coax it out of her. She always did. If only Sabrina could call and ask, “What are the magic words to say to Gage?”
She filled the tumbler with tap water and took it back to his room.
“Here. Drink. You’re parched.” She put the glass in his unsteady hand and wrapped his fingers around it with her own. He downed several gulps and placed the empty glass on the bedside table. Then he shuddered.
“Shaking off the shadows?” Sabrina asked softly.
Gage nodded and then stared at his lap, head bowed and jaw clenched.
“It happens to me sometimes, too,” she went on. “Dreams are strange. My subconscious has a way of spitting out things I thought I’d forgotten — or bad situations I’m trying to forget. When I wake up, I feel like I’m still in them.”
Now she was babbling. Gage didn’t want to hear about the nightmares she’d had since childhood — replays of her thirteenth birthday party and coming home from Molly’s house to find her father packed and gone. But wasn’t everything relative? On the broader spectrum of painful life experiences, her parents’ divorce had been inconsequential.
“Why are you here, Sabrina?” Gage’s voice sounded strangely flat.
“Because you were having a nightmare.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Why did you come to Des Moines? I need the truth.”
Sabrina felt exposed under his gaze. He wasn’t just looking at her; he was looking into her. The icy hue of the moonlight turned everything monochrome, making his eyes look gray, his hair black and his skin chalky white.
“I didn’t want you to have to go through whatever you were going through alone,” she began tentatively. “I know how it feels, to face things alone. I’ve always been able to do anything I set my mind to, Gage. I can write words that sway minds and get one of the most important men in the state re-elected, and I can dream up legislation that makes him one of the most popular legislators in Texas. I can sit through countless dinners with my supercilious half-brother, and I can be polite to my stepmother for my dad’s sake. When Molly goes out of remission, I can go with her to the doctor’s office and listen to him talk about the terrible things that could happen.
“But I can’t fix this. I can’t do anything except clean house and feel irrationally jealous because some girl you dated in high school asked me to pass on a greeting. Tell me what to do to fix it, Gage. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me what it is, and I’ll do it now.”
Sabrina drew a breath. The words flew out in a passionate rush from a place she didn’t know existed.
“Was it so hard, to be completely honest with me?” he finally asked in a gentle voice.
She nodded and contemplated the question. “Yeah. It sort of was. It felt … new.”
“I know. It gets easier with practice.” Gage’s smile was wan. “But you’re wrong. You did fix something. I realized something tonight. All of those nights I’ve spent at the hospital with Michelle? The only face I wanted to see when I walked out of that room was yours, Sabrina. Then there you were.”
“You wanted me? Here? Why?” she asked, surprised.
“I have my reasons. There is one thing you can to do make it even better.”
“What’s that? More water?” Sabrina rose anxiously.
“No. Something you’ve never done before. It might be a little scary.”
“What is it?” she asked cautiously.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said. “Close your eyes and fall asleep with me.”
Sabrina didn’t know if she’d imagined the vulnerable note in his voice. She did know with sudden clarity that she needed no convincing.
She was safe here with Gage.
“Of course.” She climbed in bed next to him. Close but not touching. She tried to read his face in the near-darkness. He wore the same taciturn expression he did when he worked on his lathe. Then she counted the number of breaths they drew and determined that for every two of her exhalations he matched her at one.
Make that two for two, she thought as his breathing quickened. Capturing her face in the palms of his hands, he merged his lips with hers in a series of slow-burning kisses, each lasting a short forever. Finally, he let her come up for air.
“Sabrina, I want to make something clear.” Gage’s voice was sober. “I’m not ‘Fitz.’ It took almost twenty years of inconsequential sex for me to figure out that someone always gets shorted in the deal.”
“I know who you really are,” she said in a husky voice. It was true. She’d known him since the night of the gala. “I’ve gotten involved with people for all the wrong reasons too. I’ve wasted so much precious time. I didn’t want you to be another number, Gage. I wanted to be sure.”
“Good,” he said. “Because after I walked out that day, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to make love to you again unless you came to me and told me you want to be my woman.”
The intensity in his voice unnerved her. So did his use of the words make love.
“But right now I need to break the rules,” he went on.
“I know,” she whispered.
Gage didn’t speak another word. He tugged off her pajama bottoms, unbuttoned her shirt and covered her breast with a large hand. He remained poised over her, silent and still; it wasn’t until Sabrina’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and she saw the look on his face that she realized he was feeling her heart beat against his palm. She clutched his forearm with her hand tightly. She needed for him to know that her body was his home.
She didn’t need anything else.
Then with a jagged inhalation, he was a body in motion. Pinning her wrists over her head with his hands, he nudged her legs apart with his knees and stubbornly rammed into her until she engulfed him, unprimed and dry. It wasn’t until she felt the drag of his teeth against her lower lip that she felt a gush of warmth coursing through her loins, lessening the friction.
He didn’t stop. Had no intention of stopping or slowing down so she could match his pace. The intensity of it all was frightening. Sabrina wished that she could still her thoughts and put them in some quiet, distant place. But he was pushing in
to her with his all of his strength intently, as though he wanted to be absorbed by her or to disappear. His hands tightened around her wrists as he came with a jagged roar of gratification, anger and despair. Exhausted and slick with sweat, he kept thrusting until she reached a hot, abbreviated climax.
He let the full of his weight collapse against her, but his body continued to shudder. She was aware that the dynamic between them had shifted once again, although she couldn’t pinpoint how. This was not awesome sex, fun sex or even primal sex. It had been deep, mental sex, driven by the kind of need that had made her want to run away and hide. But she hadn’t run, she reminded herself. She was still here. She ran her fingers through his short, crisp hair. His neck felt damp and cool. Eventually his body stilled and his breathing became regular.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
“For what?”
He rolled onto his back and scooped her up against his side so that her head was tucked under his chin.
“For being a selfish prick — you’ll have to excuse the double entendre — and for the irresponsible family planning. I don’t exactly have my shit together.”
“We’re safe. I just got off my period. But in the future—” She pressed her cheek against his collarbone. “—we have to decide on birth control before things get hot and heavy. We’re behaving like a couple of irresponsible teenagers on prom night. We both know better.”
“Wow. We’re finally having the serious talk.” She could hear the faint smile creeping into his voice as it rumbled in her ear. “Does this mean you’ve decided to ‘go’ with me after all?”
“Depends on if you give me your class ring or varsity jacket — the latter being more ostentatious and therefore most desirable, of course.”
“I’ll shake it out of mothballs and take that as a yes.” He positioned himself on his side, keeping her at elbow’s length. “As far as birth control goes, I’m good with whatever you decide. Now’s not the time for us to make babies.”
Make babies. His words and their associated implications startled her out of her languor and distracted her from the tenderness that had softened his craggy features. He brushed damp tendrils of hair away from her brow. The light pouring into the room had taken on a slightly warmer hue. She could see the expression in his eyes become more intense.
“Do you know why I love you?” he finally asked.
“Have no idea.” Sabrina managed to croak out the response. Her thoughts kept tripping over that word. Love. Love. Love. Gage loved her. Oh, hell, she thought frantically as he tucked a strand of hair around her ear. Not this. Not now.
It wasn’t the right time.
There were still too many things they needed to talk about, things he needed to know about her. He couldn’t love her. Not yet.
“You conserve your energy,” he went on. “You don’t bleed out when something bad happens to you. You solder the wound and forge ahead. When you feel passionate about something, it’s real and it’s true. You know when to be tough and when to be tender. You’re strong, efficient and opinionated. You’re a terrible liar. You’d never get away with anything on my watch.”
“Molly says the same thing,” Sabrina mustered up a response. “She says I’d make a terrible politician.”
“Molly’s a sharp woman,” Gage said. “You lied to me last night when you told me you were tired. You only said that because you knew I needed my space, didn’t you? You’re the first woman who’s ever made me want to settle down for the long haul. You’re the only woman I could see being mother to my kids. That’s why I love you, Sabrina March.”
Words bubbled to her lips. She needed to tell him now. They needed to talk about issues she’d hoped would never come up. But of course, they eventually had to.
Gage didn’t want anything that the other men in her life hadn’t.
She wanted to tell him everything. She knew what she’d say. Get it over with, she urged herself. Say it now.
I don’t want your babies, Gage. I just want you.
He drifted into a still, easy sleep while she was still wrestling with her thoughts. The first light of dawn peeped into the room, a pallid golden-gray she’d quickly come to associate with Iowa winters. She studied his face, picking out small details she’d never noticed before. Like how a patch of freckles on the bridge of his nose formed the shape of the constellation Orion. There was a feathery scar under his right brow and another smaller white line on the side of his chin.
She was totally awake, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions she couldn’t even identify. She touched the side of his face and felt the warmth of his skin spread through her fingertips.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
From: sabrina@lascasadimarch…
To: molly@lechateauduparker…
Subject: Surviving the Flatlands
Hey, Molls,
I keep forgetting to charge my cell phone, so I’m emailing you from Walden’s one and only coffeehouse instead. This seems to be the only place where I can get an Internet connection. Things here are …
I don’t know where to start.
I don’t keep track of days or dates. Mornings bleed into afternoons and evenings dim to night. It snows and then it stops. Other than the changes in the light and weather, the only thing that differentiates the hours is how I spend them with Gage. He comes home from the hospital and shoos me into the Tahoe so I can get out of this (cold, wretched) house. I can’t help but to love it because it’s where he grew up. Everyone who made him who he is today lived in this house.
Last night we went to the local diner and ate chicken potpie and limp green salad while surrounded by hideous faux wood paneling and numerous pictures of clowns. Then we went to the second-run theater to see a suspense thriller. Afterward, Gage drove me around Walden and gave me a tour of his old haunts. He even took me to the track where locals go to see tractor pulls (he took his first date to one). Tractor pulls, Molls. Good lord.
Everything about what we do is fairly predictable, and most people would say it’s boring.
I love everything we do.
I don’t ask Gage too many questions about Michelle anymore. He hasn’t said anything else about her, and I think this is his way of distancing himself from the inevitable end, closer by the day now. His moods are crazy, Molls. He’s taciturn one minute. Then the next he’ll give me that merry-eyed smile of his. He’s putting up a good front, and it’s almost like he wants to protect me (I don’t know why he’d want to do that).
He loves me. I love him. It should be that easy, right? But I keep thinking, “Now what?” I know what you’d say if we were having coffee in your kitchen: “It’s about damn time you two figured that out.” Shut up, Molls. Just to clarify, I’m not just in love. I love Gage. There’s such a big difference. No one ever told me that there was a feeling that could steal over me so quietly and stealthily. Or that feeling this way about a man (Gage), truly loving him, would be so terrifying. Put on your thinking cap. I need some words of wisdom right now.
There’s a lot more I need to tell you, but the barista is running a dishrag over the tables and giving me the stink-eye. He wants to close up early before it starts snowing again. I can’t blame him. Snow sucks.
Hugs,
Brini
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Violetta’s back. I hired her back, full-time, just like you wanted.”
Theo’s tone was casual, but Sabrina knew where the conversation was headed. The Hon. Rep. never extended a personal gesture without expecting something in return. She chastised herself for answering her cell phone so early in the morning when the ringer was still set to vibrate.
“What’s the catch?” she asked bluntly.
“No catch.” Sabrina detected a hitch of a lie in the Hon. Rep’s smooth tone. “You were burned out. That’s why you threw up your hands and said, ‘Screw you, Theo.’ I get that. Unfortunately, Moira’s the only one who’s as policy-savvy as you. I sent her into a meeting with the Tide B
rothers, and they came out looking like they’d been lobotomized.”
“I still have a couple of weeks of vacation time,” Sabrina reminded him. “I’m perfectly willing to telecommute, but until then, you’ll have to make do without me.”
There was a long, tense pause. In the background, she could hear the phone ringing and Violetta’s familiar calm salutation. She felt a momentary twinge of guilt. Her colleagues were probably busting tail trying to do damage control, and here she was wearing a comfortable pair of Gage’s old track pants and a sweatshirt, sitting at the kitchen table in front of her laptop. She heard the sound of a door closing as Theo went into his office, and then there was silence.
Finally, the Hon. Rep. cracked.
“I need you back, as in yesterday, Chief,” he pleaded. “Jill gave me the heave-ho. I’ve been sleeping on my office couch for the past four nights.”
“Oh, god,” Sabrina groaned. “Who spilled the beans?”
“I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Theo said, but her ears easily detected the lie that walloped a waver into his voice.
She slapped her palm to her forehead in dismay. If there were ever a time for her boss to level with her, it was right here. Right now.
“We’re going to have an honest conversation,” she said reasonably. “I know you’ve been seeing other women on the side, and I know just how many. I know their hair color. I know what perfumes they wear. I know their birthdays and what flowers they like. During all the time I’ve worked for you, discretion has not been the better part of valor, Theo, but I’ve always kept mum. So stop pretending I don’t know what’s really going on.”
There was another pause, and then finally, Theo sighed.
“Remember the redhead you saw coming out my office that morning?” he asked, sotto voce. “She kept calling me, even after I ended it. I should have never asked you to change my cell phone number, because after you did, she came by the house and told Jill about—”
Something About You (Just Me & You) Page 33
