The Best Laid Plans

by Sarah Mayberry

  There was only one person who’d been in her apartment lately. She stared at the stupid, nonsensical poem Ethan had created and all the bullshit she’d been using to keep herself from feeling crumbled into dust.

  She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the fridge door. Her chest ached. Her eyes burned. She was all out of fight.

  I love you, Ethan. I love you so much.

  If only he weren’t so damaged. And if only she didn’t want so much more than he had to give.

  ETHAN TURNED into Queens Road and started looking for a parking spot near Alex’s building. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but he’d already decided to tell her everything. Cassie, the baby, all of it. He’d tell her that he was scared, even though it would be the most humbling, emasculating act of his life. She deserved the truth. To know what she was getting into.

  He found a parking spot and reversed the Aston Martin into it. He was out of the car in seconds. He had to keep moving, mostly because he was terrified that if he stopped to think he’d chicken out.

  I want this. I love her. She’s not Cassie.

  But he’d stored so much anger and fear and pain five years ago, packed it away so tightly within, that he was afraid he’d never get past it. That he’d never be able to trust. That he’d never be able to offer Alex the things she needed.

  He had to try, though. He couldn’t let her slip away without trying. He loved her too much to let that happen.

  He approached the door to her building with a pounding heart.

  Sack up, Stone. Where’s your freaking dignity?

  But he’d shed his dignity long ago. He was coming to Alex armed with nothing but hope and a desire to love her.

  He pressed the buzzer for her apartment and waited, every muscle tense. After a few seconds he buzzed her again. Again, nothing.

  She wasn’t home—or she’d guessed it was him and was deliberately not answering him. He walked backward and craned his head to see if he could work out which balcony was hers. They all looked the same, and there was no dark-haired, dark-eyed woman on any of them.

  He’d call her, then. And he’d keep calling and buzzing her until she let him in. He reached for his phone, then remembered he’d left it in the car. He was walking back to the Aston Martin to retrieve it when he glanced up the road and saw a slim woman in a hot-pink sweater walking briskly along Queens Road. Her back was to him, but he recognized both the straightness of her shoulders and the distinctive sweater.

  Alex.

  She was about a block away, heading east. He started after her. There were a number of other people out on the street, despite the fact that it was cold and dark—joggers coming home from their circuits of nearby Albert Park Lake, dog walkers, students heading out for a big night. He picked his way amongst them, lengthening his stride.

  “Alex,” he called, even though he was pretty certain she was too far away to hear him.

  She didn’t so much as falter or glance over her shoulder. He dodged around a guy blocking the footpath with a bike. Up ahead, Alex was approaching the corner intersection where a mini-mart was located and it occurred to him that the store was probably her goal—she was probably ducking out to get something, milk or bread or one of the disgusting frozen meals-for-one he knew she relied on.

  The traffic lights changed at the intersection and Alex broke into a jog to catch the pedestrian light. The action unfolded in slow motion, the stuff of nightmares.

  She’d barely set foot on the road when a low-slung red car raced past him, signal flashing to indicate a left turn into the street Alex was crossing. Ethan waited for the driver to see Alex, waited for the glow of brake lights to appear at the back of the car, but there was nothing. The driver hadn’t seen her. He hadn’t seen her.

  “Alex!” he yelled, fear an icy rush through him as the red car whipped around the corner.

  The world stopped. Then he heard the sound of impact, an explosion of glass and metal and the heavy, unmistakable thud of a body hitting a car. A passerby screamed. He broke into a sprint.

  Alex. He had to get to Alex. And she had to be okay. A few scratches and bruises, sure, but she had to be okay.

  His legs and arms pumped as he raced the final hundred or so feet to the intersection. It felt like a lifetime. It felt as though he was traversing the world.

  A crowd had gathered. Someone was already on the phone, calling for an ambulance.

  “Alex,” he bellowed as he neared the crowd. “Alex!”

  She had to be alive. She had to be. But the car had been going so fast, doing at least forty around the corner.

  He reached the crowd, started shoving people out of the way to get to her.

  If she was dead… God, if she was dead…

  Then the crowd parted and he saw her lying on the road, blood gleaming in the streetlight beside her head—and it wasn’t Alex. She was shorter than Alex, fuller-breasted, her hair slightly longer. She was wearing sandals instead of sneakers and a wedding ring gleamed on her left hand.

  It wasn’t Alex.

  Relief hit him like a wall. She was alive. Alex was alive.

  Shaken, his knees like rubber, he scrubbed his face with his hands.

  He’d thought he’d lost her. For a few heart-stopping seconds he’d thought she was gone. The memory of it was enough to send bile burning up the back of his throat. All the things he’d never say to her, all the things they’d never experience together, the life they’d never have—all of it had flashed through him when he’d heard the terrible sound of impact.

  But it wasn’t Alex.

  Ambulance sirens sounded in the distance. The woman on the ground was trying to sit up and someone was crouching beside her, advising her to remain prone until help got there. The driver was crying and pacing and explaining to anyone who would listen that he hadn’t seen her, that the pedestrian light had been flashing red.

  Ethan stood numbly in the crowd as the ambulance arrived and the paramedics got out to treat the woman. He watched as she spoke to them and gingerly allowed them to help her onto the stretcher. It wasn’t until the unknown woman was in the ambulance, the doors closed behind her that he felt able to turn away.

  “Ethan. What are you doing here?”

  His head snapped around. Alex was standing at the edge of the already dissipating crowd, a bag of groceries in one hand, a perplexed frown on her face. He took a moment to simply soak in the sight of her, her hair tucked behind her ear on one side. Then he strode forward and swept her into his arms. She was warm and resilient and she smelled of lemons and fresh night air and he wanted to merge his body with hers, to become a part of her so that they could never be parted and he would never, ever have to stare down the barrel of almost losing her again.

  “Ethan. What’s going on?” she asked, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

  “Don’t ever, ever do that to me again,” he said fiercely.

  “Do what?”

  He pulled back to look into her face. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek.

  “You’re crying,” she said.

  “Alex, I love you. I should have said it a long time ago but I’ve been too busy trying to cover my ass to understand that any risk is worth it if I get to have you in my life. I don’t want half measures. I want everything you want and more. Kids, marriage, a mortgage, arguments over whose turn it is to put the dog out, I don’t care what it is, I want it with you. I’ve wasted so much time, and I deserve for you to give me a hard time and make me jump through a million flaming hoops, but I love you and I want this and I’m not going anywhere until you say yes.”

  “Ethan,” she said. Her eyes were wide, searching his face.

  She didn’t understand. She had no idea that he’d just had a glimpse of hell.

  “Alex. I thought it was you,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “I saw the car turning, I thought you were dead….”

  He pulled her close again, experiencing the wash of terror a second time. He pres
sed her face to his chest and cupped the back of her head in the palm of his hand. She felt ridiculously fragile, terrifyingly mortal in his arms.

  He loved her so much. So much. And yet he’d almost let fear stop him from being a part of her life. It was only when he’d been facing the loss of everything that his world had become clear to him.

  Cassie’s abandonment and betrayal had been baffling and hurtful. She’d left him dangling and he’d made a fortress out of his bitterness and fear. But all the stuff he’d canvassed with Derek tonight, all his doubts and caution, none of it mattered when he’d been faced with the prospect of a world without Alex.

  The ultimate wake-up call. Beside it, everything else assumed its rightful perspective. What counted was Alex. Being with Alex. Loving Alex. Building a future with Alex—if she would have him.

  Her expression was grave when he finally felt able to let her go again.

  He knew he should wait until they’d had a chance to talk properly. He knew that standing on a street corner a few feet from a traffic accident was probably the least romantic spot in the universe. He should take Alex home, tell her about Cassie and the divorce, make sure she understood what she’d be getting herself into if she took him on before he asked her to—

  “Marry me,” he blurted. “Save me from myself, and I’ll do my best to save you when you need it, too. Marry me and have babies with me. Marry me and play racquetball with me until neither of us can bend to tie our sneakers on our own. Marry me, Alex, and make me the happiest, luckiest idiot in the world.”

  Her face crumpled. His gut clenched. He’d made her cry.

  “Alex, I’m sorry—”

  A fist landed in the middle of his chest. “How am I supposed to resist you when you say all the right things? Can you explain that to me? How am I supposed to be strong and do the right thing when you look at me like that and ask me to marry you?”

  The dread clutching his gut receded a notch. “Doing the right thing would be marrying me.”

  She shook her head, her eyes swimming with tears. “You’ve just had a scare. You’re not thinking clearly. Anything you say right now is under duress.”

  He smiled. Couldn’t help himself. She was adorable, so earnest, so honest. So Alex.

  She smacked him in the chest again. “Don’t you dare laugh at me when I’m trying to save you from yourself.”

  “Maybe I don’t need saving.”

  “You do. You don’t want to be married. You’ve said so a million times. You’re freaking out right now but once you calm down you’ll regret this. And I don’t want to be a regret in your life, Ethan. I love you too much for that.”

  “Alex, why do you think I came over here tonight? Why do you think I was following a woman I thought was you up the street so I could throw myself on your mercy and beg for a second chance?”

  She gave him an arrested look. Had it really not occurred to her that his being here was about her and not simply a coincidence?

  “Really? You really came looking for me?”

  The hope in her face. The doubt.

  “Baby, I’ve been looking for you all my life,” he said.

  Then he kissed her, because he needed to more than he needed air. She kissed him back, her arms around his neck, her hands clenched in his hair.

  But a kiss wasn’t nearly enough. He needed to feel her skin against his. He needed to be inside her, part of her. He needed—

  “Let’s go back to my place,” Alex gasped against his mouth.

  “Yes.”

  They broke apart. He took the bag of groceries from her hand, then he drew her close and kissed her again. He didn’t want to let her go. But they were standing on a street corner, and public nudity had been frowned upon for a while in the state of Victoria.

  A tow truck had arrived, along with a police car. Ethan spared them both a glance as he and Alex turned toward her place.

  “I was in the shop when I heard the smash. Must have been pretty scary,” Alex said, following his glance.

  He raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

  “Beyond scary. The worst moment of my life.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he said.

  Her eyes were full of uncertainty when she looked at him. “Ethan…”

  “A simple yes is more than enough.”

  “Since when have we ever been simple?” she said ruefully.

  It was a good point.

  She copied his earlier gesture and kissed the back of his hand. “Ask me again later.”

  It was almost a promise. Almost.

  “All right,” he said reluctantly.

  He could wait, if he had to. In the meantime, there were things he needed to tell her.

  They turned toward Alex’s apartment and started walking. He took a moment to assemble his thoughts, then he cleared his throat.

  “I want to tell you about Cassie,” he said.

  ALEX LISTENED in silence as Ethan told her how he and Cassie had met, about their instant attraction and how quickly they’d moved in with each other. He described his ex variously as beautiful, fiery, smart, impulsive, and she imagined what it must have been like between the two of them, how in love Ethan must have been. Impossible not to feel a stab of jealousy.

  He talked all the way back to her apartment, and when they arrived she led him to the couch and drew him down beside her and sat with her back against the arm so she could see his face and his eyes as he told her about the wedding and the tough few years afterward when he and Cassie had both been working so hard to carve out their careers.

  He told her about the house they’d bought together in well-heeled Armadale and their big mortgage. He told her how they’d talked about trying for children once they’d both felt more solid in their jobs and managed to get the mortgage down a little. He told her that there had been problems, but that he’d always believed in the fundamental integrity of his marriage.

  She knew he’d reached the tough part when he broke eye contact with her. He kept talking, though, and she reached for his hand and held it as he told her how he’d come home on what he’d thought was an ordinary work night to find Cassie waiting for him with her bags packed and the devastating news that she didn’t love him anymore.

  Then he told her about the abortion and she squeezed his hand tight and shut her eyes and simply sat with him in silence, absorbing his truth and his pain.

  She could not imagine how he must have felt. Could not imagine the hurt and the anger and the confusion and the self-doubt and the grief. He’d been devastated. Even though he hadn’t said a word about his feelings or his reactions, simply delivering up the bare facts for her edification, she knew he must have been shattered because the man sitting on the couch before her still bore the scars from his marriage. He’d allowed them to dictate his life for the past five years while telling himself all the while that he was strong and tough and cynical and that he would never, ever be abandoned or betrayed or rejected again.

  Because she didn’t know what to say, she simply slid closer to him on the couch and put her arms around him. They sat holding each other for a long time. She felt his chest expand when he finally took a breath to speak.

  “It was a long time ago.” He said it apologetically. As though there was shame attached to the fact that he was still dealing with the fallout from his divorce five years later.

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and caught his chin in her hand. Then she looked at him fiercely, very directly in the eye.

  “Don’t ever apologize to me for caring, Ethan Stone. For having a heart. For being able to be hurt. For being vulnerable. Okay?”

  He nodded. She slid her hand up to cup his cheek. He was a beautiful man, a lady-killer. And yet he’d been betrayed, had his trust torn to shreds. He’d lost an opportunity to be a father. He’d lost his life as he knew it.

  A terrible anger filled her as she processed the enormity of what
had happened to him—what had been done to him. What kind of a person walked out on her partner of twelve years without trying to fix what was wrong? What kind of a woman told her husband that she had chosen to terminate her pregnancy because it was only when she was expecting his child that she understood she no longer loved him or wanted a life with him?

  For a moment Alex was almost overcome with rage on Ethan’s behalf. She wanted to hunt Cassie down and shake her until she begged for forgiveness. She wanted to scream at Ethan’s ex-wife until the other woman understood how much pain she’d inflicted, how much she’d wounded him.

  Then the wave passed and all she wanted was to do was comfort him.

  She leaned forward and kissed him. She held his face in her hands and kissed his nose and the slope of his gorgeous cheekbones and his eyebrows and his forehead and his eyelids and his jaw and his chin. She pressed a long, lingering kiss to his mouth. She stared into his eyes as he looked back at her, vulnerable and stripped bare, offering himself up to her for understanding and forgiveness and succor.

  She could offer him promises and guarantees, but they both knew that words were cheap and that there wasn’t a pledge or vow in the world that could shape and mold the future. There was only who she was and who he was and their understanding of each other right now, right at this minute. It had always been enough for her, but she understood now why it might not have always been enough for Ethan.

  “I love you, Ethan,” she said.

  There wasn’t anything else to say, at the end of the day.

  “I love you, too, Alex.”

  She took him into her bedroom then and took off his clothes, took off her clothes and showed him with her body all the things she couldn’t say with words. She told him with her kisses that she was loyal. She told him with her arms that she adored him. She took him into her body and told him that she wanted to share her life with him.

  As he moved inside her, she looked into his eyes, never once looking away.

  He wasn’t perfect. His trust issues were probably going to be a problem for both of them in the future. But she wasn’t perfect, either. She’d never been great at letting people in and she found it hard to show her weaknesses, even to loved ones.