What the hell was she doing outside during a storm?
I threw open my door, getting out and turning her way. She was barefoot and dressed in casual clothes, which were wet and clinging to her frame. In the brief moments she’d been outside, her hair had plastered to her head. It was obvious she was crying.
“Sandy,” I called out, confused. “What the—”
My words were cut off as she launched herself at me. I caught her to my chest, picking her up off the ground and holding her close. I felt the violent tremors in her body and absorbed her sobs.
I held her tight, unsure of what was happening.
“Don’t let go,” she begged over and again. “Don’t ever let me go.”
I held her closer, relief running through my body.
“Never.”
Sandy
I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders and shivered. The house felt cold today—or maybe it was just me. I had barely slept four hours all week since telling Jordan I couldn’t see him anymore.
I couldn’t get the devastated look on his face out of my mind. The pain in his eyes. The tears that mingled with mine when he kissed me and walked away.
I was certain I had done the right thing. I wasn’t ready.
Except, since breaking it off with Jordan, I couldn’t escape the pain I felt. It was as virulent as when Max died, but different. Fresher, more acute somehow. As if my body was telling me I was suffering needlessly.
He called me a coward. At times, I thought perhaps he was right. It scared me to think of moving on, of having feelings for someone again.
Of falling in love and losing him. Experiencing that pain all over again. Knowing I would have to rebuild my life yet again without the person I loved beside me.
It was better to have walked away now.
I wasn’t ready.
Even if the look of pain on Jordan’s face still haunted me. The hurt in his voice.
I poured the water from the kettle into the cup, letting the tea steep and darken the water. I wrapped my hands around the mug and walked to the living room, switching on the gas fireplace. Outside, the sky was dark, the day foreboding.
I tried not to think of last weekend. Being in Jordan’s arms while the storm raged. Feeling safe and calm while he hummed and lulled me to sleep.
Today, I would have to tough it out on my own.
I set aside the tea, not really wanting it. I curled up on the sofa and slipped on some noise-canceling headphones. I would feel better after a nap—I was certain of it. With the low music playing in my head, my body slowly relaxed, and I drifted into sleep.
* * *
The sky was dreary and dull. I was lost, wandering in an area I was unfamiliar with. Cold, I pulled on my shawl, shocked to find the ends torn and frayed. I stumbled, gasping as I fell. A pair of strong arms caught me before I hit the pavement, keeping me from injury.
I turned and looked into the face of the man holding me. He smiled, his green eyes warm.
“All right, my darling?”
“Jordan. You’re here!”
“Where else would I be?”
“But I sent you away—you were furious with me.”
He shook his head. “I was waiting for you. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
“I can’t—I told you I can’t.”
He stood, releasing me. “You can. You need to let him go. He’s waiting. We’re both waiting for you, Sandy.”
“What?”
He indicated behind me with the tilt of his chin. I turned and saw another man standing, watching us. I stepped forward. “Max?”
“Hello, my girl.”
“How is this possible?”
“Anything is possible in your dreams.”
“Is that what this is?”
“This is anything you want it to be.”
“I don’t know what to do, Max.”
He smiled sadly. “Yes, you do. You need to be the strong woman I know you are. Let me go and find your happiness again.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I always wanted for you. Our chapter is over, Sandy, but you have an entirely new book to write. Grab it. Write it. Live it.”
He began to fade. “I’ll always be there, Sandy. Just let me be where I belong. In the past.”
“Max—no—wait!”
“You don’t have to choose. You can love us both. Now, wake up, my girl. Wake up now and grab your happiness. Open the door, Sandy. Open the door!”
And he was gone.
* * *
I sat up, gasping. My headphones were on the floor, and outside, the thunder rolled. I heard the rain pelting against the glass, and I ran a shaky hand over my face.
My weird dream played like a movie in my head. It had been so real.
Max’s words echoed in my head. The gentle, loving look on Jordan’s face danced behind my eyes.
I thought of the other dreams I’d had with Max in them. I always felt, in some way, he was reaching out to me. Guiding me.
Was he guiding me to Jordan? Was that possible?
A noise caught my attention, and I stood. It sounded like the porch door shutting. I scrubbed my face and yawned. I was so tired, and the nap hadn’t helped. Slowly, I walked down the hall, assuming a delivery had been left for me. I peeked out the front door, but no one was there. As I suspected, there was a large box off to one side of the porch.
I pulled open the door and looked at the box. There was writing on the side, so I lifted it carefully, carrying it into the house. I read the note from Jordan, tears springing to my eyes. He had been here, no doubt while I was asleep, and brought me something.
I slid the gift from the box, my breath catching, and tears, hot and fast, ran from my eyes. My painting. He’d had a print of it framed for me.
Memories of a lovely weekend.
This painting represented more than a memory.
It was the start of something new and beautiful, and I had thrown it away.
Jordan was right.
I was a coward.
The slam of a car door outside made me lift my head. I hurried to the porch, opening the front door and looking outside. Jordan’s charcoal-gray sedan was just pulling away from the curb.
Without a thought, I was outside, running down the street, praying somehow Jordan would see me. I waved my arms, crying his name as loudly as I could, ignoring the cold rain and the thunder that crashed around me.
Suddenly, Jordan’s car stopped. He stepped outside, staring at me as I barreled toward him.
“Sandy,” he called, “What the—”
I crashed into him, flinging my arms around his neck. I sobbed so hard nothing I was trying to say came out right, but I felt his arms lift me from the ground, holding me close.
“Don’t let go,” I pleaded. “Don’t ever let me go.”
“Never,” he promised, holding tighter.
* * *
Jordan’s voice was low in my ear as he set me on my feet. I lifted my head, bewildered when I realized we were on my porch.
“What…”
Jordan shook his head. “You have no shoes on, Sandy. Go inside and change into dry clothes.”
I clutched at his hand, feeling frantic. He wasn’t going to forgive me. “Don’t…please. I’m sorry. Please…you said you’d listen!”
He shook his head, cupping my face between his strong hands. “I have to move my car, my darling. Then I’ll come right back, and we’ll talk. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
He looked past me with a chuckle. “If it’s still there. I left it running in the middle of the street.”
I pushed him. “Go. Quickly.”
He opened the porch door, frowning at the squeak. “I need to fix this for you.”
“No. That was the sound that woke me. It brought me out to the porch.”
“All right, then. It stays.”
He hurried down the steps, and despit
e his assurances, I went to the door and watched as he ran down the street, got in his car, and reversed back into a spot close to the house. He shut off the car and strode back, his steps determined and swift.
I backed up as he came inside.
“Sandy, you’re soaking wet and shivering. You need dry clothes.” He stroked my cheek. “I’m right here.”
“Okay.”
Inside, I headed to my room, yanking off the wet clothes and tossing them in the hamper. I pulled on a warm sweater and a pair of yoga pants, then dried my wet hair, pinning it up once I was done. I felt much warmer after I slipped on a pair of fuzzy socks.
I found Jordan in the kitchen, brewing a pot of tea. He eyed me tenderly, holding out his hand. “That’s better.”
I went to him, letting him draw me close, shutting my eyes as another wave of emotion flooded me. I felt safe with him here. No longer worried or upset, just safe.
And loved.
“Shall we go sit down?” he asked. “We need to talk.”
“Yes.”
We sat on the sofa. Jordan bent down and picked up my headphones, lifting his eyebrow in a silent question.
“Noise-canceling headphones. I haven’t been sleeping well and I was so tired I thought a nap would help. I put them on to stop hearing the thunder. I must have rolled, and they fell off.”
“Then you heard the door squeak?”
I took a sip of my tea. “Not exactly.” As simply as I could, I explained my strange dream to Jordan. He listened, not interrupting, then rubbed his face.
“You really think Max was telling you I was here? To go to me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I heard the knocking in my sleep and somehow manifested it into the dream.” I shrugged.
He shook his head slowly. “But you think Max was here?”
“I’ve dreamed of him before,” I admitted. I extended my hand, clasping his. “You were right, Jordan. I was being a coward.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingers. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
“No, I was scared. I felt so much for you and it worried me. I felt disloyal to Max and the years we spent together. As if they meant so little, I could move on and fall in love with someone else so fast. And the thought of loving you—maybe losing you one day—was too much too handle.”
Tears formed in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. “I thought if I stopped it now, then the pain wouldn’t be too bad. I didn’t think you could mean as much to me as you did. But I was wrong. You were already there in my heart, and it hurt so much.”
I lifted my eyes to his, shocked to see tears glimmering in the depths of his green gaze. “You love me, Sandy?”
“Yes.”
He moved closer, cupping my cheek. “Good. Because I love you right back.”
He leaned his forehead to mine. “I can’t tell you the future, my darling. I can only say this. I’m fifty-nine, in good health, and I plan on being around for the next thirty or, god willing, forty years. And I want to spend those with you. If all we had were five days, five weeks, or five months, I would take it.”
“Jordan,” I sobbed.
“Don’t think about the amount of time we have—none of us knows that—think about how we can live it. We can build a life together. A good one. And dream or ghost, Max was right. This is our story now and how we choose to write it. Write it with me, Sandy. Let’s fill the pages with memories. Our memories.”
I flung my arms around his neck. “Yes.”
* * *
Hours later, I was still curled by his side, his arm holding me close. We talked, cleared the air, both of us expressing our fears and our hopes.
“I would prefer not to have Max popping into the rooms as we talk,” he admitted dryly. “That rather freaks me out.”
I had to laugh. “It’s only the occasional dream.” I sighed. “I somehow think he won’t be back.”
“No?” he asked, grazing my forehead with his lips.
“I think he knows his job is done. He can rest, knowing I’m happy. He always wanted me to be happy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I rested my head back on his shoulder, peering up at him. “You do make me happy.”
“Good.”
“Sandy…” His voice trailed off.
“What?”
“As soon as you’re ready, I want you to sell this house and come live with me in the condo.”
I sat up, shocked. “That’s moving a bit fast, isn’t it?”
I shrugged. “Well, as you pointed out earlier, we aren’t getting any younger. In the meantime, we can furnish it together, making it ours. When you’re ready, you can move in.” He winked. “Hopefully, if I do my job right, soon.”
“How would your kids feel about that?”
He pursed his lips. “I think they would want me to be happy. Gina and Warren are coming soon for a week to help me sort some things and take what they want from the house and what’s in the warehouse. You can meet them, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Have it all planned out, do you?”
He grinned. “That’s my job, you know. I organize and facilitate. Bentley calls me an expert.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Think about it, Sandy. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll think about it, or yes, you’ll move in?”
“Both? I just need a little time, Jordan.”
He kissed me. Slowly and sweetly—I felt his adoration and love in that kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured.
It felt so good to hear those words, and to say them back.
“I love you too, Jordan.”
He was smiling as he kissed me again.
Sandy
The music swelled, and everyone chuckled as Van left his spot at the altar, walked down the aisle, and met Liv partway. He kissed her and they walked up the aisle together, with him holding her daughter Samantha—or Mouse, as Van called her—close, and holding Liv’s hand.
Their vows were simple, the ceremony short, no doubt in order to make sure Mouse didn’t get bored and wander off. Van had already bribed her with new sparkly shoes once to get her up the aisle.
I smiled through my tears. They were happy ones, not sad. My smile became wider as a handkerchief was tucked into my hand and Jordan drew me closer. I dabbed at my eyes and dared to glance at him. He was extraordinarily fond of Van and thought of him much like a son. They were good friends, and I knew how excited he was that Van had found a woman as wonderful as Liv. She was perfect for him. Van adored Sammy, and she returned his feelings tenfold. They made a lovely little family.
Jordan was smiling, despite his glistening eyes. I loved the fact that he showed and shared his emotions. He turned his head, meeting my gaze. He lifted his hand and traced one finger down my cheek with an indulgent smile and tilted his head slightly toward the altar. Our eyes held a silent conversation.
That is going to be us—soon.
Slow your roll, Jordan.
Can’t, woman. No time to waste.
I tried not to laugh. As I was discovering, although he had the patience of a saint at work and was known for his meticulous ways, in his personal life, he tended to be more—impatient.
Since he’d shown up at my door on Saturday, I had lost count of the number of “dates” we had actually had. Aside from the office, and our nights, we were together. Lunches were shared in the park daily. Stolen kisses in the kitchen at the office. Flowers, chocolates, and my favorite pastries appeared by my keyboard. Sweet texts arrived at different moments of the day, always making me smile. Every evening, he appeared at my desk.
“Ready to go, my darling?” he would murmur. I would take his hand, and our evening would begin.
A couple of nights, I went to his house, helping him pack and sort. Anna obviously had exquisite taste, and I helped Jordan pick some pieces to go to his new
place. A few nights, he came to my place and we cooked dinner, working well together in the kitchen. He was a great cook, especially his seafood pasta—which I loved so much, I made him promise to make me every week.
But when the evening was over, we separated. I knew Jordan wasn’t comfortable in Max’s house, and I didn’t want to share a bed in the same room he’d shared with Anna. I had no problem cuddling on the sofa, sharing long, passionate kisses in my kitchen, but there was a line there neither of us wanted to cross.
Which was why, Jordan informed me yesterday, he had booked us a hotel room for the night.
“There is no way I can hold you close, dance with you, then drop you off at home,” he informed me when I asked why. “I’ve been patient, my darling. You can only ask a man to take so much.”
I had held in my amusement, because frankly, I was feeling the same way.
This afternoon when he picked me up, he had stood back, sweeping his gaze over me head to toe in a long, lazy glance. Then he shook his head.
“Thank god.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Thank god I booked that hotel room. You look like a million bucks.” He ran a hand over his face. “I hope there is dancing. I want to see you move in that sexy number.”
I tried not to blush but failed. Jordan had that effect on me. I had bought another new dress—this one in a deep emerald-green color, with layers of beads that reminded me of a flapper dress from the twenties. It was held up with slender straps on my shoulders and barely skimmed my knees. It shimmered and danced when I moved, the beads almost musical as they bounced and swayed. I had my hair up, showing off my neck and shoulders, which, thank god, were still firm, the skin taut. I carried the lovely shawl Jordan had bought me in Boston.
From the look on Jordan’s face and the force of his kiss, I had a feeling he was looking forward to seeing the dress on the floor of the hotel room.
After the dancing.
He’d been close all afternoon, tucking me to his side, running his fingers over my bare shoulder, dropping a kiss to my skin on occasion. We laughed and enjoyed the outpouring of love that surrounded the event.
Vested Interest Box Set Books 4-7 Page 87
