Dear Diary

by Nancy Bush

  “Michelle?” Rory called softly, quietly closing the door to the twins’ room. Fear prickled along her skin. Where was she?

  Visions of disaster filled her head. She walked rapidly down the hall, searching each room. The back of Michelle’s head showed above the outdoor chaise lounge. Calling herself an over-imaginative fool, Rory slid back the screen door. “Michelle?”

  A sigh sounded. Michelle’s head lolled to one side. Rory moved around to the front of the chair. She picked up her sisters wrist and checked her pulse. She couldn’t help herself.

  Michelle’s eyes fluttered. “Whad are you doin’?” she asked sleepily.

  “Nothing.” Rory felt sheepish. Her sister was just taking a nap. “The kids are asleep in their beds.”

  “Thanks for taking them to the park. Did they have fun?”

  “Up until World War III broke out.” She told her about the fight.

  Michelle sighed, gazing reflectively across the cedar deck to the copse of firs beyond. “James called while you were gone. Now that everything’s out in the open, he’s already pressuring me for a divorce. Can you believe it?”

  Rory grimaced. “He wants this woman that badly?”

  “She must really be something,” she said, a catch in her voice.

  Rory’s heart broke. Michelle was trying so hard to be fair. “Are you going to fight the divorce?”

  “Yes.”

  Rory didn’t answer. She felt it was a lost cause, but she wasn’t her sister.

  Michelle reached for the glass of iced-tea on the table beside her. She took one small sip, collecting herself. “I know you’d opt for divorce if it came down to it,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. “You’re strong, Rory. But even though you probably can’t understand this, I love James. I can’t give him up. And I have the twins to think about.”

  “You still want him even though he’s treating you like dirt? How can you stand knowing he’s been sleeping with some other woman? I wouldn’t put up with it. I couldn’t.”

  “Have you ever been in love, Rory?” Michelle asked. “I mean, really in love? Even once?”

  “This isn’t about me,” Rory began gently, but Michelle shook her head vigorously.

  “It kinda is. I’m trying to explain how I feel, and you just won’t listen. I love James. I think this affair is just a temporary thing. I hate it. It makes me crazy, and I want to kill him. But I know, deep down, if I stay rational and don’t give him any ultimatums, it might just go away.”

  “Michelle, listen to yourself. That’s the most masochistic thing I’ve ever heard. The man wants a divorce.”

  “That’s what he says today, but Rory, he broke down on the phone. He knows how much he’s hurting me. He just needs time to get himself together.”

  “I can’t listen to this.” Rory paced to the far end of the deck, angry. How could Michelle delude herself so completely?

  She felt her sister walk up behind her, heard her deep sigh. “There’s not a right or a wrong, you know. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and I know what I want.”

  “There is a right and wrong. James was wrong to cheat on you. He’s even more wrong to keep seeing this other woman now that you know about her. After Dad’s infidelities, how can you stand to be with that kind of man?”

  There was a deep, silent moment, as if the earth itself had paused to take a breath. They had never discussed their father before. “James isn’t like Daddy.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Daddy cheated on Mom for years with all kinds of different women. James just wants this one woman.”

  “Daddy married the last one,” Rory reminded. “And he’s probably cheating on her, too.”

  “James isn’t like him,” she insisted stubbornly.

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  “That’s not how he thinks.”

  “It’s how they all think,” Rory ground out.

  “You’re wrong. You’ve got a warped sense of perception about men.”

  “I have.”

  Michelle was growing angry, too. Her cheeks flamed pink, and her eyes glittered. Distantly Rory realized she resembled her sister more in anger then at any other time. But they disagreed totally on men.

  “I’ve listened to you put down men for years. They’re all bad. They’re all out to take advantage of you. You can’t trust them. They should be blasted off the face of the planet.”

  “That’s a little over the top.”

  “Is it? I think I might be understating it. The only man you’ve ever cared about is Nick, and it looks like you’ve blown that now, too.” To Rory startled look, she added flatly, “I’m not blind, you know. I can see you’re absolutely miserable. You could call him directly, but instead you call the office and just leave messages with his assistant. You don’t want to talk to him.”

  Rory absorbed that, surprised that Michelle, who’d seemed sunk in total depression, had been so aware.

  “He called while you were gone this morning,” she went on. “Right after James left. I was a mess, and Nick calmed me down. He told me to take one step at a time.”

  “Trust Nick to be original.”

  “See what I mean?” Michelle snapped. “As soon as we get down to real emotions, you say something flip and clever and meaningless.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to say?” she snapped back.

  “How you really feel! Just once!”

  Michelle strode back to her lounge chair and sank onto it, spent. Rory was still angry, but the last thing she wanted to do was add to burden. “I’m sorry,” she said tightly. “Let’s not fight.”

  Michelle nodded and closed her eyes.

  “So, Nick called today?”

  “He wanted to talk to you. Something about fishing this weekend with Mr. Martin.”

  “Marsden.” Rory looked away, thinking about Nick’s invitation to the San Juan’s. The memory of being wrapped in his arms, of him thrusting into her, the wetness of his tongue, the seductive scent of his cologne, the roughness of his whiskers against her flesh, made her throat close with pure longing.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?” Michelle asked wearily.

  Rory picked up Michelle’s glass, helping herself to a swallow of diluted iced-tea. “We slept together last weekend.”

  She couldn’t have said anything to astound her sister more. Michelle sat bolt upright. “You did? You and Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s… surprising. And terrific. No wonder you were gone all day Sunday. You said you were with Nick, but I thought you’d meant the night before.”

  Rory squinted against the bright sunlight. She was uncomfortable with this topic. She’d never been able to get into the nitty-gritty kind of girl talk other friends she knew seemed to eat up.

  “Was he at your place Monday when I called you?” Michelle asked perceptively.

  Rory nodded again.

  “Ah, okay…” She waited for Rory to say something and when she didn’t, she asked, “So, was it great. Oh, God, I didn’t spoil things, did I?”

  “No, no. It was basically over already.”

  “Why…?”

  “I ended it. It was never going to work.”

  “Oh, Rory.” Her voice was full of compassion and a kind of resigned disapproval.

  “Unlike you, Michelle. I can’t set aside my pride and let a man walk all over me. It’s not worth the humiliation.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I’m not trying to be mean. You wanted to know.”

  Michelle’s nostrils flared. “And what’s Nick done to walk all over you?”

  Rory drew a breath and expelled it. “He hasn’t actually done it yet. I’m just getting prepared.”

  Picking up her drink again, Michelle shook her head. “I don’t know which one of us is the bigger fool, but if I had to put my money on it, I’d pick you. You’re an idiot, Rory. You’re in love with him, and you won’t even g
ive yourself a chance. At least I’m honest about what I want. But not you. Oh, no, not Rory Camden. Keep lying to yourself and you’ll get just what you’re asking for: a lifetime of loneliness!”

  Rory unlocked the door to her apartment and was met by hot, breathless air, and a lonely, yowling cat. “Did you get locked inside?” she teased, scratching Problem’s head.

  The Siamese trotted after her as she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Problem’s bowl was low on water, too, so Rory refilled it, but the cat merely purred and rubbed her legs.

  “Miss me?” Rory pulled Problem’s lanky body into her arms. “Between Mr. Little and myself, you’re not suffering. You’re just lucky he offered to feed you at all. He likes you way more than he lets on.”

  Problem started squirming so she set him on his feet and let him out. With a disdainful flick of his tail he sauntered toward Mr. Little’s property.

  Glancing anxiously toward her neighbor’s sliding glass door, Rory half expected the man to race out, broom in hand. But Problem appeared safe for the moment, his nine lives still intact.

  Rory leaned on the balcony rail, heat soaking into her head, making her feel itchy. It was Friday afternoon; too late, really, to go into work. Besides, Michelle’s situation made her feel drained and lethargic. Her sister clung to the kind of hopes that should have died long ago.

  “But not me,” Rory said aloud, her eyes closed against the beating sun, wishing she didn’t feel so miserable over doing the right thing.

  She’d called Nick back to ask him about the fishing trip, but he’d been too busy to answer in anything but monosyllables. At the end of the conversation he’d tried one last time to get her to go on the boat.

  “I’d like it if you’d join me,” he said in that intense, sexy way that made the hair on Rory’s arms stand on end.

  “I’ll… think about it.”

  The truth was, Rory was torn. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to drag him off to bed and make love to him. She wanted it all. But sooner or later she was going to pay the price. Nick had never said he loved her. In fact, love didn’t even enter into it, and that was okay, but it just wasn’t going to work for her. And as far as having a future with him, she knew Nick wasn’t interested in marriage again.

  And you are?

  Rory sighed, running her hands through her hair. Two weeks ago, she would have said no. But that had been before she faced her attraction to Nick. Now the thought of being married to him made her feel weak and afraid inside, like when you want something so badly it could make you ill, something you know you really can’t have.

  Yet she could have him for a little while. If she were willing …

  Muttering in frustration, Rory strode back inside, reaching for her cell phone. She tried Nick’s cell first, but it went straight to voicemail. She then punched in the office number and asked the receptionist to be transferred to his office.

  “Mr. Shard isn’t in right now,” Pamela’s voice rang over the wire. “If you would leave your name and number—”

  “Pam, it’s Rory.”

  “Oh, hi. How’s your sister?”

  “Surviving.” Rory had been forced to reveal something of Michelle’s problems to explain her own absence from work. “Just barely.”

  “I hope things work out.”

  “So do I. Do you know where Nick is?”

  “No, he left early. He’s got that fishing trip with Marsden tomorrow. Have you tried calling his cell?”

  “I think it’s turned off.” Of course he was unreachable. “Er, any news about Don?” she asked, not really wanting to know, but feeling she should.

  “He came and talked to Mr. Shard‌—‌Nick‌—‌yesterday. I don’t know what was said, but Don seemed a little more subdued when he left. You know, Rory,” she added in an admiring tone bordering on hero-worship, “Nick is amazing. He really knows how to handle people.”

  For some reason Rory couldn’t bear for Pamela to sing Nick’s praises to her. “He’s one of a kind,” she agreed, and hung up a few moments later.

  Flopping down in front of the TV, Rory searched for something just short of thought provoking and one step up from mindless. The only thing that seemed to fit that category was reality TV and she just didn’t feel like it. She turned it off in disgust and tried to block out her thoughts. She knew some of the things Michelle had accused her of were true. She was too careful when it came to matters of the heart. Yet the thought of suffering the same fate as her mother, and now her sister, was enough to give her nightmares.

  If Nick were a different kind of male, she might be tempted to trust to fate. Contrary to Michelle’s remarks, Rory was fully aware there were lots of men who were loyal, faithful and honest with their wives. And yes, Nick possessed some of those qualities. But she would be a worse fool than even Michelle claimed if she believed she was the one woman who could make him happy. She didn’t overrate her attributes that much.

  The doorbell rang and Rory sprang from the couch as if caught in some nefarious act. Swearing under her breath, she unlatched the lock.

  Nick stood on the other side. “Hi,” he greeted her. He wore a polo shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, white socks and deck shoes. He looked so much like the Nick of her youth that Rory was momentarily speechless.

  “What? No snappy comment? Not even a hello?”

  “Hello. What’s going on?”

  “I came to see you.” His gaze skated over her from head to foot. Rory wore a pair of jeans with holes at the knees and a red tank top. She realized with amusement that she also looked as she had when she’d been a teenager.

  “Come on inside, if you can stand the oven,” she invited, closing the door behind him. “This place is unbearable when it’s hot.”

  “How’s Michelle?”

  “A little better considering James wants a divorce, and she’s not giving it to him. She thinks he’ll change his mind and want to be with her later on, so she’s holding out.”

  “Hmm.”

  Small talk abruptly ground to a halt, and they stood facing each other, feeling uncomfortable. Now that he was here Rory couldn’t think of a thing to say. Wiping nervous palms on her jeans, Rory asked, “What do you think she should do?”

  “Just because I’ve been divorced doesn’t make me a marital expert.” He shrugged, moving his shoulders as if to ease some inner tension. “But it does seem like he’s rushing it. A few days ago she didn’t even know there was another woman involved.”

  “No. If a man treated me like that, I’d never want to see him again,” Rory answered calmly.

  “Even if you loved him?” Nick regarded her with the kind of detached curiosity that nevertheless made her feel he was really listening for her answer.

  “Are we talking about us now? I mean, really?”

  He didn’t seem to want to answer. Instead he walked to her sink and poured himself a glass of water. “It’s too damn hot,” he muttered.

  Rory said, “I called Pam and she filled me in a little on what’s been happening this week. I feel like I kind of ran out on you, especially with Don leaving at the same time.”

  “It was a slow week in a lot of ways. By the way, Don came back and apologized.”

  “Apologized?” Rory repeated, lifting her brows.

  “Grovelled is probably closer to the word. He wanted his job back.”

  “Did you give it to him?”

  “Hell, no. He’s got an attitude problem I don’t need. But I offered him three month’s severance pay, and he left peaceably.” Nick looked sideways at her. “He seems disinclined to make any more tasteless remarks about you and me.”

  Rory glanced around, feeling the potency of his gaze even when she couldn’t see it. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Okay, I’m going to level with you, Rory. I’ve been thinking about us all week. No big surprise.” He laughed shortly. “I can hardly think of anything else.”

  Rory swallowed. She heard the drip, drip, drip of
the faucet in between her heartbeats.

  “I’ve come to some conclusions, and they’ve been hard ones to admit. Yes, I’ve had a number of relationships. Some short, some long. One marriage. But I’m not really the way you think of me.”

  “I know,” she said quickly.

  “Do you? Because I’ve been getting a different message.”

  “I‌—‌I just feel like I could lose everything,” she said in a rush.

  He gazed at her in a way that could break her heart. “There’s something between us that won’t go away. It’s always been there. You know it’s been there. I want to explore it. I want to take it to the end.”

  “What end?”

  “I’m not ruling out anything. I want to try this.” He motioned between the two of them with his hands. “I ran off to San Francisco after I got divorced and I always thought it was because of Jenny, because I needed to escape from what we’d shared, but now I’m not so sure. I think… I might’ve been running from you.” His jaw slid to one side, and he frowned. “Does that sound crazy?”

  Rory’s nerves tightened. “A little.”

  Nick regarded her soberly, his eyes probing hers. She focused instead on his mouth, which was a mistake. The shape of his lips had always intrigued her. Why did he have to be so damned handsome?

  “Oh, hell, Rory. I don’t want to talk.” In one swift stride he pulled her into his arms, his hands sliding around her back, his face somewhere near her ear. Rory pressed her palms against his chest, inhaling sharply at the feel of his lips tugging on her lobe. “Don’t stop me,” he ordered, his breath tickling her ear.

  Her senses reeled. She clutched his shoulders, longing to be possessed, fighting her attraction, losing …

  As if she’d verbally conveyed her feelings, he hauled her even closer, his masculine angles filling her feminine curves. She was starved for the feel of her skin rubbing against his, and her soft moan was willing and eager.

  “Tell me you want me,” he ordered, one hand tangling in her hair.

  “I want you.” Her voice was breathless.

  There was no more waiting after that. With impatient fingers Nick stripped off her garments, then waited tensely as she did the same for him. Her hands were slower, clumsier. Groaning, Nick closed his eyes, as if it were a painful endurance. Then they were naked and she slipped into his arms. Somehow they made it to the bedroom, and Rory knew she would always remember the sweet wrestling of their limbs and the rustle of the comforter beneath her back, the smell of Nick in her nostrils and the taste of him on her tongue.