by Sherri Hayes
After dinner, Jay walked close beside her out to the parking lot—his arm occasionally brushing against hers. Paul had rushed Chloe to the car, and Megan knew it was to give her and Jay some privacy, which did nothing to quell her ire.
She was trying not to be rude to Jay, but it was proving more and more difficult with every step. The last thing she wanted to do was lead him on.
“I’d like to see you again. I have this Friday night off—maybe we could go out to dinner, just the two of us.”
Megan stopped, and turned to face him. She waited until she was positive Paul and Chloe were inside the vehicle and out of earshot. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Oh. All right.” He sounded disappointed. Megan hadn’t thought she’d given him the impression that she was interested, but apparently, she had—at least, on some level. Either that, or he’d purposefully misread her polite responses.
She looked up at the sky, and cursed Paul for putting her, and Jay, in this situation. This whole thing was his fault—him and his crazy notion that he wasn’t good enough for her.
When Megan lowered her gaze back to meet Jay’s, he was watching her with a note of curiosity. She’d seen a similar look from Paul many times. “You’re a nice guy, Jay, and if things were different, then maybe, but . . .”
“I thought . . .” Jay cleared his throat. “Daniels said you weren’t seeing anyone.”
Megan sighed. “I kind of figured.”
“But you are.”
She had to give him credit. He caught on fast.
“It’s complicated.”
Her body language must have given something away because Jay glanced briefly over in Paul’s direction before returning to look at her. “You and Daniels? But why . . .”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
He sighed, nodded, and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Megan gave Jay a weak smile, and watched him cross the parking lot to his car. The fact that she felt guilty for having to let a perfectly nice guy down easy only fueled her anger more. She turned, marched the short distance to the car, and hopped inside, not once looking in Paul’s direction.
On the ride home, Chloe was quiet—too quiet—especially considering how close it was to her bedtime. Although she was a good kid, she was still a five-year-old, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to get cranky when she was off her routine. Dinner had taken longer than it should have, and on a normal night, they’d already be tucking her in bed. The one time Megan peeked over her shoulder at Chloe to check on her, she’d been holding her baby doll against her chest in one hand, and rubbing her eyes with the other. Megan decided that Chloe must have tired herself out beyond being cranky.
That was until they arrived home. Usually Chloe was the first one out of the car unless Paul told her to stay in her seat. This time, both Paul and Megan had exited the vehicle, yet Chloe hadn’t moved.
Paul went to get her, and that’s when the tantrum started. Chloe kicked and screamed when he carried her into the house and up to her room. Megan followed close behind in case he needed help. She might be upset with Paul, but that didn’t have anything to do with Chloe.
They worked together to put Chloe’s pajamas on her, and to get the little girl into bed. In the six months Megan had been Chloe’s nanny, she’d never seen her act out like this. Chloe was firmly told by her father that there would be no story tonight because of her behavior. He tucked the blankets around her, kissed her forehead, and headed for the door.
Megan followed suit, kissed the little girl’s forehead, and then turned to go. As she began to back away, however, Chloe grabbed hold of Megan’s jacket, and clung to it as if her life depended on it.
“Chloe, what’s wrong?”
“Are you gonna leave, Me-gan?”
Kneeling down so that she could be on eye level with Chloe, she brushed hair off the distressed little girl’s forehead. “I’m just going downstairs, honey. It’s all right. You’ll see me in the morning.”
“You promise?” The words were said around sobs.
“I promise.”
Chloe wrapped her arms around Megan’s neck. “Love you, Megan.”
Megan returned the hug, and then tucked Chloe back in bed. “I love you, too, Chloe. Now get to sleep before your daddy comes back in here.”
In response, Chloe closed her eyes tight, and pretended to already be asleep. Megan chuckled silently, shaking her head as she turned off the light, and strolled out of the room.
As soon as the door was closed behind her, Megan took a deep breath, and headed downstairs where she knew she’d find Paul. With each step she took, the anger, and an increasing amount of hurt, pounded through her veins. Was the idea of dating her so terrible that he’d stooped to setting her up behind her back?
She descended the stairs into the kitchen, but Paul wasn’t there. After checking the living room, she confirmed that he wasn’t in there either. Glancing back up the stairs, she considered that he might have gone directly to his room, but quickly dismissed the thought. His door was open. If he’d been in there, she would have seen movement . . . heard something.
Determined to find him, Megan opened the back door to see if he’d gone outside for something. She was about to close the door again when something caught her eye. Squinting, she realized it was Paul, sitting in the backyard on the wooden swing that she’d never seen him use.
Zipping up her jacket, Megan softly closed the door to the house and crept almost silently across the yard. She lowered herself into the seat beside him, and tried to gather her thoughts. As much as she wanted to yell at him for what he did, she didn’t think that would get her anywhere.
After leaving Chloe’s bedroom, Paul practically ran down the stairs and out the back door. He’d needed air, space, something, so it didn’t feel as if every breath he took weighed a thousand pounds.
Somehow, he found himself on the swing in his backyard. He remembered putting it together for Melissa. She used to sit and watch him mow the lawn, an iced tea in one hand, and a huge smile on her face—her long legs tucked beneath her. He missed that smile.
Paul was deep in thought—memories—when he heard the back door open. He didn’t have to look to know it was Megan. Part of him wanted to hide from her. He could easily have held perfectly still and she would have been none the wiser to his presence.
His subconscious must have had other ideas. Without thought, his knees bent just enough for the swing to rock, drawing her attention.
He stopped the swing and waited. The closer she came, the faster his heart beat in his chest. Whether he liked it or not, he was attracted to Megan, and seeing her tonight with another man hadn’t changed that. If anything, it had made it all that much worse.
She sat down next to him—her thigh pressing ever so slightly against his. It took everything in him not to twist to the side and take her right then and there. He’d somehow thought that seeing her with Rollins, giving her another option, would solve all their problems. Paul couldn’t have been more wrong.
Throughout dinner, he’d kept his focus on Chloe, but he’d heard every word that both Rollins and Megan had said to each other. He imagined her smiling at his jokes—Rollins touching her in subtle ways just to gauge her reaction. It was maddening on a level Paul was entirely unfamiliar with.
Although he’d been hoping they would hit it off, and Rollins would ask her out, he hadn’t been prepared for what that would mean. Against his will, he’d turned his head just in time to see Rollins give Megan a kiss. Paul couldn’t tell from his angle whether it was on the lips or the cheek, but either way it caused a wave of jealousy to overtake him.
Silence enveloped them as they sat motionless on the swing. Paul had so much he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t know if he could, or even should, share what he was feeling. Setting her up with Rollins had been a mistake. He knew that now.
“Why?” Meg
an’s voice cracked, drawing his attention. Her jaw was locked tight, but he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or if she was trying to keep herself from crying.
Paul didn’t need to ask what she was referring to. He already knew. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. You shouldn’t.” This time her tone was clipped, and there was no disguising how upset she was.
He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet.
She must have realized he wasn’t going to respond. “Is it because I asked you out? Is the idea of dating me so horrible . . . so outrageous . . . that you felt you needed to set me up with someone else?”
Paul closed his eyes, and sighed.
“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to push this under the rug and act like it didn’t happen. I need to know why? Why did you do it?”
Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together, and rested his arms on his knees. “I’m not right for you, Megan. I’ve tried . . . I’ve tried to tell you. I’m sorry, but I can’t be what you need. Rollins . . . I thought . . . maybe . . .”
“Is this about what happened with Melissa?”
He didn’t answer.
It was her turn to sigh. “Whatever happened, I know it can’t be that bad.”
Before he knew what was happening, Megan had her hand on his arm, and the spot where she touched him tingled. He wanted more. As much as he knew he shouldn’t . . . couldn’t . . . want more, he did.
When Megan spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Jay asked me to go out with him Friday night.”
Paul’s chest contracted almost painfully, and he lowered his head. It was what he’d wanted to happen—what was meant to happen. So why did he feel as if he was going to be sick?
“I told him no.”
He snapped his head up to look at her. “Why?”
She looked him square in the eye. “You know why.”
They sat staring at each other for a long time until he looked away. Even with everything going on, even with their topic of conversation, Paul wanted to kiss her. How messed up was that?
He heard her let out what sounded distinctly like a huff, and the swing jerked a little as she removed her hand from his arm. Paul knew she was frustrated. If their situations were reversed, he supposed he would be, too.
Running a hand over his face, he took a deep breath, and looked out across his backyard. “I was called out around ten o’clock.”
The moment the words left his mouth, it was as if he could feel a change in the air around them. Megan stilled to the point that, for a moment, he thought maybe she’d stopped breathing. He took a chance, and glanced in her direction. Her eyes were wide, and she held her posture rigid. She was waiting.
Paul returned his gaze to the darkness of the yard, unable to look at her or anyone else as he relived the worst night of his life. “The victim had been brutally raped and murdered. It was a gruesome scene . . . the worst I’d had to deal with since becoming a cop.”
He let that hang in the air for a minute before continuing. “By the time we went over the crime scene and talked to the woman’s family, it was nearly three in the morning when I walked through the door. Melissa was awake. She’d just put Chloe back down after a feeding.”
Closing his eyes, he tried to push back the memories—to keep them from taking over, pulling him into the past. “I wasn’t in a good mood. I was grumpy, and stressed, and angry for what had been done to that young woman. She was only eighteen, and he’d nearly torn her to shreds before killing her.”
He looked down at the ground although he couldn’t see much. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a heavy shadow. It fit the mood of their conversation, he supposed. “When I’d left the house earlier, Melissa noticed that we were almost out of diapers, and asked if I could pick some up on the way home. With all that happened, I’d forgotten.”
To her credit, Megan didn’t comment. She sat quietly and listened to every word of his confession.
“When she brought it up, I exploded. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the stress . . . either way, she didn’t deserve my anger. We’d fought before, of course. We’d been together for fifteen years. But this was different. I accused her of not appreciating what I did for her and our family. I was . . . I was mean about it. I said . . . I said things I shouldn’t have. Things that, to this day, I wish I could take back.”
The swing moved, but Paul didn’t have it in him to look in Megan’s direction to see what she was doing—how she was reacting to his revelation.
He cleared his throat, and finished what he’d started. If he was going to spill his guts, then he wasn’t going to hold back. “Our fight ended when I yelled at her that she should just go get the damn diapers herself. She grabbed her purse off the counter, swearing that she’d do just that, and stormed out the door.”
After a long pause, he whispered, “She never made it to the store. A mile from our house, a drunk driver ran through a stop sign and broadsided her. She was pronounced dead at the scene.”
“I’m sorry.”
Paul snorted. “I don’t deserve your sympathy, Megan. I lost my wife because of my own stupidity—I cost my daughter her mother.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Not wanting to argue with her, Paul stood. Keeping his back to her, he took a deep breath, and uttered the words that made him feel as if he were sticking a knife into his chest and twisting. “You should go out with Officer Rollins. I don’t deserve a second chance.”
Before she could reply, he walked back into the house. Hopefully, now she’d see. He wasn’t the man she thought he was.
Chapter 11
Megan sat outside thinking about everything Paul had told her, until the cool night air finally drove her inside. He’d left the lights on for her, but when she went upstairs, she noticed his door was closed. Knowing he wouldn’t welcome her intrusion into his private space, Megan reluctantly trudged into her room and got ready for bed.
It was only as she was drifting off to sleep that what Chloe said resurfaced in her mind, and Megan wondered what had prompted the little girl’s sudden fear. So much had happened in the last five hours that it was difficult to tell what had caused the outburst. She knew she’d have to talk to Paul about what happened. No matter what was going on between them, they couldn’t let it affect Chloe.
Megan didn’t get much sleep that night which, considering how her evening had ended, wasn’t a big surprise. Deciding she needed as much mental armor as possible, she took the time to get herself dressed and primped before going downstairs.
When Megan sauntered into the kitchen, she found Paul sitting at the table, reading the paper and drinking his morning cup of coffee. He didn’t glance up or acknowledge her arrival in any way, but she knew he was aware of her by the way he hesitated for a moment as she walked behind him.
After getting her coffee, Megan pulled out a chair, and sat down to his right. She took a sip of her coffee. “Paul?”
He glanced up. From the look on his face, he appeared to be preparing for battle.
Although she knew they needed to talk about what he’d shared with her the night before, they needed to talk about Chloe more. “After you left Chloe’s room last night, she said something to me. I’ve been thinking about it, and well, I’m worried.”
This got his attention. “What did she say?”
“She asked if I was leaving.”
Paul sat up straight. She had his full attention. “Why?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I have to assume that it had something to do with what happened at dinner.”
“Megan . . .”
She met his gaze. “Don’t. We’ll talk about last night, but not now. Not when Chloe is going to come downstairs at any minute. My biggest concern is that she thinks I’m going to just up and leave her.”
“You don’t think I’m concerned about that, too?” He stood, and took his cup to the sink. “I’ll talk to her.”
&
nbsp; “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He turned abruptly to face her. “Why not? I’m her father. It’s my—”
“But it’s me she thinks is leaving. She needs reassurance from me, Paul. Not you. Not on this.”
The sound of little feet descending the stairs ended their discussion. Seconds later, a sleepy-eyed Chloe waddled into the kitchen.
Paul crossed the room, and lifted her into his arms. She clung to his neck, burying her face against his shoulder.
He carried her over to the counter, and proceeded to grab the supplies he would need for her breakfast before depositing her into a chair, and placing the items before her. She timidly glanced up at Megan, scooted her chair a little closer to where Megan was sitting, and then picked up her spoon to begin eating her cereal.
Megan looked questioningly at Chloe as she drank her coffee and nibbled on a muffin she’d snatched off the counter. Chloe stared intently at her cereal, but would pause every now and then as if she were waiting for something.
“Good morning, Chloe.”
Chloe peeked up at Megan. “Morning.”
Although Chloe wasn’t typically a morning person, her mumbled greeting wasn’t normal.
Glancing over at Paul, Megan saw him frown. At least he realized that she wasn’t exaggerating the issue.
Megan turned her attention back to Chloe. “Chloe?”
She waited until she was sure she had the little girl’s full attention.
“Honey, last night you asked me if I was leaving. Do you remember?”
Chloe nodded, and Megan thought she saw a note of fear in Chloe’s eyes.
“Can you tell me what made you think that I was leaving?”
Chloe looked toward her father.
Paul tried to reassure her. “It’s okay, sweetpea.”
She still looked unsure.
Megan reached out, and placed her hand over Chloe’s where it lay on the table. “No one’s mad at you, sweetie. We’re just trying to understand.”
