Eleven
A few days later, Tina had deals to manage, even if they were closing three thousand miles away.
Sitting at her grandmother’s kitchen table, she cradled the phone on her shoulder and took notes while her assistant talked.
“The Mannerly house is in the final days of escrow,” Donna said, her perky voice just a shade too cheerful for Tina. “Are you going to be back in time to walk them through the closing?”
A week, Tina thought. “Yes, I’ll be back by then.” She’d be home. Back in her neat little condo, with her tidy little world and the occasional date for dinner and a movie and maybe, just maybe, she’d be pregnant.
“That’d be great,” Donna cooed. “Suzanna Mannerly called this morning and wanted to thank you for finding her dream house. Turns out she’s pregnant. Isn’t that great? She’s all excited.”
“I’m sure,” Tina said, and made all the right noises while Donna went on.
“Suzanna said she’s going to do up the nursery just the way you suggested when you first showed them the house and—“
Zoning out, Tina only half listened as she remembered, walking through the big old Victorian in Manhattan Beach. Suzanna Mannerly had loved it the minute she’d walked through the front door. And Tina, having been the number one saleswoman in her real estate office for three years running, had known that she had a sale.
But, when she’d taken Suzanna on a tour of the big old house, and proudly showed the woman the nursery that had sheltered generations of children, Tina’d had an epiphany. The very epiphany that had dragged her all the way back to South Carolina to trick her ex-husband into getting her pregnant.
It had suddenly dawned on her that while she’d spent years helping families find homes, build dreams and invest in their futures…she’d neglected her own.
As Suzanna had oohed and aahed over the nursery and its bay window and window seat and conical ceiling, Tina had felt her biological clock erupt into a series of thunderlike tick-tocks. She’d known, just that quickly, just that absolutely, that what she needed wasn’t to be found in the hustle and bustle of L.A.—in the thrill of a sale and the quiet cha-ching of money adding up in her savings account.
What she needed, what she craved, was a family of her own. Children. A husband.
Now, she had the chance for one and she’d lost the other, one more time.
“Thanks, Donna,” Tina interrupted her assistant neatly. As her stomach twisted and her head ached, she realized she just didn’t want to talk about other people’s dreams coming true anymore. Maybe that made her a small person, but she’d just have to live with it. “Tell Suzanna I’ll be back in time to personally hand her the keys to her dream house.”
She only wished she could do the same for herself.
As soon as she hung up, the doorbell rang and she grumbled as she pushed up from the chair and stalked to the front door. She was in no mood for company.
Especially if it was Brian. He’d been coming by the house every day, asking if her period had arrived. If she was feeling sick. Telling her that they had to make a decision. Well, her period hadn’t arrived yet. And though hope was still lifting inside her, a part of her wanted to tear her own hair out in frustration. How much harder was it going to be, she wondered, having Brian’s child and yet not having Brian?
Oh, she’d been an idiot, no way around it. Thinking she could get pregnant and waltz away again with no twinges of guilt, no regrets. Janet had been so right to advise her against this.
Too bad she hadn’t listened.
Because knowing that she still loved Brian was going to make living without him unbearable.
Grabbing the doorknob, she turned it and gave it a vicious tug. She nearly snarled at the woman on the porch, but cut it off when she was greeted by her former mother-in-law’s smiling face.
“Maggie.”
“Tina, honey,” the older woman said, stepping into the house and grinning like a kid at Christmas. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Maggie Reilly was short and a little on the plump side. She had Celtic blue eyes as dark as her sons and black hair she kept short and wispy around her pixieish face. Her understanding heart and warm nature had made her the perfect mother-in-law and Tina had missed her desperately.
Muffin and Peaches scrambled around her ankles and Maggie spared each of them a quick greeting before straightening up and looking Tina dead in the eye. “I’ve been on a bus tour of New England with my travel group or I’d have been to see you before this.” She cocked her head, folded her arms over her chest and said, “So, have you come back to knock some sense into Brian’s head at last?”
Tina laughed and the laugh choked off at the knot in her throat and before she knew it, the tears she’d been holding in for days burst free. Maggie took a step forward, enfolded her in a tight embrace and murmured to her while she cried.
“It’s all right now, love. I’ll hit him for you.” Patting her back, Maggie whispered sympathetically. The soft whisper of her native Ireland sang in her voice, giving her speech a rhythm as soothing as a lullaby. “You come with me.” Leading Tina back to the kitchen, she sat her down in the closest chair. Turning for the stove, Maggie snatched up the teakettle, filled it at the sink and set it on a burner to heat. “We’ll have a little tea, and you can tell me all about my idiot son and what he’s done now.”
Tina smiled through her tears and blinked her watery vision clear. “Maggie, I’ve missed you.”
“And I’ve missed you, too.” Bustling around a kitchen as familiar to her as her own, Maggie got down cups, teapot and a plate of cookies. “Hasn’t Angelina been keeping me up to date on you and what you’ve been doing out in Hollywood?”
“Not Hollywood,” Tina corrected. “Just L.A.”
Maggie waved a hand dismissively. “Same difference, if you ask me. All those pretty people and fast parties. I read the papers.”
Tina laughed again and this time felt better. It was good. So good, just to sit and be understood.
“And Brian’s kept up with you as well,” she said, nodding from her position by the stove, as if just by standing there, she could arrange for the water to boil faster.
“He has?”
“‘Course he has. Silly man.” Maggie shook her head. “Liam’s the only one of the four of them that makes a lick of sense to me most times.”
“I should have married him.”
“Well, now,” Maggie said with an impish grin, “the church might have been a little cranky about that idea.”
Tina tried for a smile, but failed. “Oh, Maggie, I should never have come back here.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’,” the older woman said. “You should never have left.”
“He didn’t want me.”
“Nonsense.”
“He divorced me.”
“He loves you.”
Tina snorted. “He has a strange way of showing it.”
“Well, he’s a man, isn’t he, poor thing.” Maggie shook her head, picked up the teakettle and filled the pot on the table. After the kettle was back on the stove, Maggie took a seat opposite Tina and stretched out one hand to her. “Mind you, I love my sons. Every hardheaded, stubborn, prideful one of them. But I’m not the kind of mother who overlooks their faults. I see them as they are, not as I’d wish them to be.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Maggie said, “Brian Reilly has been miserable since you two split up.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Sighing, Maggie gave Tina’s hand a pat, then reached for the teapot and poured each of them a steaming cupful. “He’s as thick-headed as his father was before him, God rest him.” She made a quick sign of the cross, then went on as if she hadn’t paused at all. “But the heart of him was gone when you left, Tina. He’s never told me why he divorced you. Couldn’t pry that out of him, and Liam couldn’t either, though he tried, and reported back to me,” she added with a smile. “But I can tell you
this. He hasn’t rested easy since he lost you.”
Small comfort, Tina thought sadly. Although, it some weird way, it might have been easier to take if she thought he had moved on. If he’d found someone else to love. If she thought he’d divorced her because she wasn’t what he’d needed. But how was she supposed to feel knowing that the man she loved had let her go—and still loved her? What kind of peace could she find in that knowledge?
None.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that, Maggie,” she admitted, cupping her hands around the fragile, rose-patterned teacup.
“Do you love him?”
Tina stared at Brian’s mother. “That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Not an answer at all,” Maggie muttered, shaking her head until her silver hoop earrings clashed against her jaw line. “If you two aren’t peas in a pod with your concrete skulls.”
Tina smiled.
“I’ll ask again. Do you still love Brian?”
“I do.”
“Well then, that’s settled.”
Tina snorted. “Maggie, it settles nothing. Love isn’t enough. Not for Brian, anyway.”
“Faddle.” She waved one manicured hand and blew out a dismissive breath. “Love is everything, Tina. The only thing that matters.”
If she could believe that, maybe it would be enough to make her stay and fight, Tina thought. But if love had been enough, then surely Brian wouldn’t have walked away five years ago.
As if she could read her mind—and Tina wouldn’t have been the least surprised to find that she could—Maggie leaned in and said, “The question here is, what’re you willing to do about it?”
“About what?”
“Brian.”
“What can I do?”
Maggie sighed, took a sip of tea, then shook her head. “Tina, an Irishman’s head can be as thick as a brick. Sometimes, you need a two by four just to make a dent.”
Tina laughed, and though it sounded a little shaky, it was better than crying. “You’re telling me to hit him?”
“No, I could do that myself—and will, if you ask me, make no mistake.”
She looked so hopeful and eager, Tina had a hard time saying no. But she did.
“Ah, well then, it’ll be up to you, dear. You’ve only to decide if you want him badly enough to fight through that hard knob of a skull of his.” She picked up her teacup and leaned back in her chair. “Then you’ve only to dig in your heels.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then, Tina, love, you and my Brian both will have sad, lonely lives when you could have had so much more.”
Brian stalked up the shadow-filled driveway and stopped at the gate leading into the backyard. Just beyond that gate, he heard the excited whimpers and scrabbling of tiny nails as his two tiny fans tried to get through the gate to him.
Scowling, he told himself he didn’t know which was worse. The way those two dogs had hated him before, or their abject devotion now. Shaking his head, he opened the gate and stepped through, moving cautiously, so as not to stomp on tiny paws. “Okay, okay, I’m here.” He bent down and Muffin and Peaches were all over him.
As he petted and stroked quivering little bodies, the back door opened and a slice of lamplight speared into the shadows, spotlighting him.
Tina stood in the doorway, but she didn’t look welcoming. No surprise there, of course. Things had been pretty damn cool between them for days now. And damned if he didn’t miss talking to her, watching her, hearing her voice.
Every night, his mind tortured him, by replaying images of the hours he’d spent in her arms. With crystal clarity, Brian recalled every touch, every sigh, every whispered word and caress. And he wondered, in those long, sleepless hours, if he’d ever be able to forget. If there would ever come a night when he’d be able to sleep without dreaming of her. Without remembering what he’d lost—not once, but twice.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Tina said and her voice sounded thick, as though she’d been crying.
Brian’s heart twisted and he stood up, barely feeling the two little dogs as they jumped at his legs. His hands felt empty, useless, so he stuffed them into his jeans pockets.
She stepped out onto the porch and he studied her. Hair soft and loose around her shoulders, she wore a skinny strapped tank top and a pair of worn denim shorts with frayed hems. Her long, lean legs were bare and the silver toe ring winked at him in the light. He imprinted her image on his brain without even trying.
She would haunt him.
Always.
He swallowed hard. She was right in front of him and yet, she seemed farther away from him than she ever had before. A single thought raced through his mind before he could stop it and he wondered what they would be like now if he hadn’t ended their marriage five years ago. He wondered what it would be like to be coming home to her at night. To hear the sounds of kids playing in the house. To know that the lights left burning were for him, to guide him home to warmth.
And he wondered how in the hell he would ever be able to stand returning to a dark, empty apartment night after night for the rest of his life. Suddenly, the years stretched out in front of him and all he saw of the future was a black void, yawning in front of him like a black hole opening up in space. He was a doomed man.
If he’d stayed married to her, he would have sentenced her to a life of hardship. By setting her free, he’d sentenced himself to a lifetime of emptiness.
But that was a decision he’d made long ago and now he just had to live with it. Blowing out a breath, he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and asked the question he’d put to her every day for the last week or so.
“Everything all right? You feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded, and knowing she didn’t want him around, turned for the gate. He had one hand on the worn, weather-beaten wood when her voice stopped him again.
“I’m fine. But there’s no baby.”
His hand clenched on the top of the gate and his grip was so tight, he wouldn’t have been surprised to feel the wood snap clean off. His insides twisted and a laser shot of pain sliced him in two. Somehow though, he managed to stay upright. Swiveling his head, he looked at her. “You’re sure?”
“My period started this afternoon,” she said and her voice sounded…hollow. “So you don’t have to worry anymore. You’re in the clear.”
Was he? He would always wonder about that.
No baby.
There’d never been a baby.
So why then, did he suddenly feel like he was in mourning? Why did the pain tighten like a vise around his heart and twist in his guts? Why the sorrow? The regret?
Wasn’t this what he’d been hoping for?
Wasn’t this for the best?
And if it was for the best, shouldn’t he be feeling happy? Instead, he was feeling as though the earth had opened up beneath him and he was tottering on the lip of a rocky chasm.
Deliberately, he forced himself to loosen his grip on the old gate. “I don’t know what I should say,” he admitted quietly.
“There’s nothing to say, Brian,” Tina said softly. “Not anymore.”
Then she snapped her fingers and the dogs reluctantly left him, scampering up the steps and through the open doorway into the lamplit house. Tina stared at him for a long minute and looked as though she was going to speak again. But she changed her mind and quietly closed the door.
That spear of light was gone.
The promise of warmth was shut off.
And Brian was alone.
In the dark.
Twelve
By noon the next day, Angelina Coretti was home, greeting her nearly hysterically-glad-to-see-her dogs, and Tina was packing.
“You should stay,” the older woman said to her granddaughter, trying to look stern as she cradled first one tiny dog and then the other, giving each of them equal attention.
“I can’t, Nana,” Tina said as she tossed s
horts and T-shirts into the oversized, navy blue suitcase. “I just can’t stay.”
Angelina clucked her tongue, set Muffin down on the floor, then walked to her granddaughter. Laying one hand on her arm, she waited until Tina was looking at her to speak again. “Is it Brian?”
It was always Brian, Tina thought, diving into the pool of misery that lay deep in the bottom of her heart. All night, she’d been torn by the knowledge that she had to leave.
Talking to Maggie hadn’t helped. If anything, it had only made Tina feel worse. Knowing that Brian had been miserable without her was small consolation. If Tina’d been able to convince herself that he’d divorced her because he wanted someone else, it would have been hard to swallow, but she’d eventually have succeeded. But knowing that the damn man hadn’t wanted anyone but her and had still divorced her only made the whole situation more heartbreaking.
How could she possibly argue with a man so willing to walk away from love? From what they’d had? From what they might have had?
Angelina sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Reaching into the suitcase, she pulled out one of Tina’s shirts and absently folded it as she spoke. “I’d hoped that the two of you would find a way back to each other during these weeks.”
“Nana.” Tina stopped what she was doing and stared at her grandmother. Angelina Coretti was tall and slim. Her silver hair was still long and thick and she wore it in a braided knot at the back of her head. Her features were lined in patterns created by years of smiling and her dark brown eyes were filled with the warm understanding that Tina had grown up with.
The older woman shrugged and reached for another shirt to fold. “Do you think I don’t know why you never visit except when you know Brian will be gone?” she asked with a shake of her head. “Did you think I couldn’t tell that you still love him?”
Sighing, Tina dropped her makeup bag into the suitcase, then took a seat beside her grandmother. “Never could put one over on you, could I?”
“Surprising that you still try.” Angelina patted her hand, then gave it a squeeze. “Brian was the one for you,” she said softly. “Right from the first. And it was the same for him.”
The Tempting Mrs. Reilly Page 11
