He couldn't even describe the night as they'd made love, fallen asleep, then reached for each other and done it again. He hadn't had time for breakfast this morning because he had an errand to run before work and they'd stayed in bed too long!
He'd managed to dress while April had made coffee and he'd taken a mug of it along after a kiss that reminded them of the night before. But that rushed morning "good-bye" led him to understand they needed even more time together. Tonight after Stephie went to bed would be the perfect opportunity to really talk about a subject they'd both avoided—the future.
However, nothing at all went the way Gabe had planned.
It all started with a mid-afternoon phone call from April.
"My mother phoned," she'd told him. "She wants me to go look at a condo with her tonight. She's trying to decide what she might want if she moves back here. I don't know what you were thinking about tonight—"
He'd been doing more than thinking about tonight. He'd been anticipating it with vivid pictures in his head. He'd planned to stop on the way home for strawberries and whipped cream. He'd planned to put Stephie to bed and then feed April those strawberries and give her the locket he'd bought for her this morning before he'd come to his office...the locket she'd so admired a few weeks ago. Nevertheless, he knew Winnifred would be leaving soon, and the time she and April spent together was important.
"My plans can change," he said. "Go with your mom and give her your advice."
"I doubt she'll take my advice."
"You never know. Don't hold back with her, April. Life's too short for that."
She paused as if his words had startled her. Then she responded, "You're right. Life is too short for that. I'll see you when you get home."
She sounded as if she were looking forward to that as much as he was.
Nevertheless, when he walked in his house, it seemed to be in total chaos. Burgers were patted, ready to broil but they were sitting on the counter. Salad fixings were spread from the mixer to the canisters. A frozen bag of broccoli lay haphazardly next to a pot.
When Gabe went into the living room, he saw Stephie's toys straggled from one end of it to the other. To top it all off, Stephie was sitting in a chair, crying. He supposed his daughter was experiencing a time-out. On her knees, April was picking up tiny pieces of paper that had been strewn all over the floor.
"Uh oh," Gabe said as he walked in. "What's this mess?"
April glanced over her shoulder at him, and to her credit, she didn't erupt after what must have been a frustrating afternoon.
As soon as she saw him, Stephie popped up out of her chair and ran to him. He caught her and hugged her but said, "Hold on a minute. Are you supposed to be in time-out?"
She dropped her head and looked down at her sneakers. Then she nodded.
"How much longer?" he asked April.
"Two minutes. She just sat there a minute ago."
He tapped his watch. "Two minutes, kiddo."
Stephie started crying but he shook his head. "No crocodile tears. Come on." He patted the chair. "Two minutes. Just think about all the games we can play later, and it will go fast."
With a sullen look at both of them, Stephie dragged her feet walking to the chair and then plopped on it.
Gabe nodded to the kitchen, and April stepped that way with him, out of earshot of Stephie.
April shook her head. "I'm sorry the place is such a mess. She's just off today. Nothing satisfies her. Her attention span is zilch. She's just not her usual bubbly self. Maybe she's coming down with something."
"Fever? Stomach ache?"
April shook her head. "No, I checked. Nothing outward...yet. But I'm running late and dinner's not done, let alone the toys—"
Suddenly the doorbell rang. April examined her watch. "Oh, my gosh, it's Mother. I don't want to leave you with all this."
"All what? This is my life, April. This is nothing new. You've just made it a heck of a lot easier the past few weeks. But we're good. I can slide the burgers into the oven, cook a little broccoli, and even microwave a baked potato if I have to."
April smiled, and he realized how much he liked that smile, especially when it was just for him. "Go get the door, and tell your mom after you look at houses, she has to buy you something to eat."
"I'll grab a container of yogurt. I'll be fine."
"Stopping with your mom somewhere and having coffee and a sandwich could be good. You don't have to hurry back."
She eyed him briefly before she crossed to the door, and he wondered if he sounded a little too nonchalant. He wondered if he sounded as if he didn't care if they spent time together tonight. He gave himself a mental kick. He didn't know how to do this anymore.
Do what? a little voice inside his head asked.
Fall for someone, he answered under his breath. Then he corrected himself. Fall for April, all over again.
****
Two hours later, Gabe realized how right April had been when she'd said Stephie was "off." His daughter was cranky, contrary and argumentative. She'd gone through a stage like this when she was around two and had learned to say no. Tonight reminded him of that.
Finally, however, he coaxed her to eat a couple of bites of an overdone burger, convinced her a carrot stick was as good as candy, and told her if she helped him pick up her toys, she could have a cookie before bed. He'd picked up most of the toys, but …
She'd practically fallen asleep in the middle of one of the stories he'd read her. He gave her a kiss and was ready to go downstairs when he walked by the spare room next to April's. The door in there led up to the attic.
Maybe it was time he really put the past behind him. He still had a box up there that held a lot of Vanessa's papers as well as cards and mementoes from when they'd courted. He hadn't had the heart to go through them before. But now, maybe it was time.
This time of year, the attic was cool but not cold. Boxes with Christmas decorations lodged against one wall. A three-foot tall aluminum reindeer with lights guarded them.
Decorations for Christmas. He'd soon have to think about that. He'd soon have to think about asking April to stay. Would she consider staying permanently? Would she consider relocating?
Easily spotting the box he was concerned with—Vanessa's name in magic marker danced across the side—he crossed to it and pulled it away from under the eaves. Then he sat on the floor, ready to take everything to the paper shredder that reminded him of the past.
He wasn't sure how long he sorted. There were pay stubs and check stubs, cards they'd sent each other early in their courtship, but also e-mails Vanessa had printed out for one reason or the other—about a sale at a particular store, a few from long-distance friends, research for something for work. He found ticket stubs from a concert. He remembered the night he'd taken Vanessa to it, her excitement at hearing a band she loved. When he came to another batch of receipts, he glanced at them. Vanessa bought a lot of clothes, purses, shoes, jewelry. That was just the kind of woman she was.
There was one particular jewelry store that she liked the most. The receipt stated exactly the items beside each price—earrings, a necklace, two bracelets. But then his gaze fell on a receipt for an expensive men's watch.
He recognized the designer name. He'd never received a watch like that from Vanessa. Maybe, of course, it was work-related. Maybe everyone had gone together to give somebody a retirement gift. But now Gabe handled the receipts more carefully and looked more closely.
He heard noise downstairs.
Suddenly April called up the attic steps. "Gabe, are you up there?"
"Yes," he called back. "I'll just be a minute."
As he glanced at a few more receipts, he saw more women's items. Then he spotted another men's item—onyx and diamond cufflinks.
Maybe Vanessa was the social chairman at work and bought gifts necessary for the company.
Maybe not.
Before he could even process the idea of Vanessa buying men's jewelry for someo
ne other than him, April came up the stairs. He quickly changed thought channels. He purposely set the receipts back in the box on top of another stack of e-mails.
At a glance, April saw Vanessa's name on the box, as well as the papers he'd been sorting through. "What are you doing?"
"I thought it was time I emptied this last box. This is everything that had been in her desk at work and from her desk here. None of it seemed important after she died so I just stuffed it all up here."
"Is it important now?" April asked.
Was the fact that his wife had bought jewelry for other men important? He wasn't sure yet. Maybe he'd have to dig to the bottom of the box to find out. But he'd had enough for one night.
He didn't answer April's question, but rather asked, "So how did it go tonight?" Standing, he moved closer to her.
She glanced down at the papers again and then back at him. "Mother saw a condo she likes. She wouldn't have to worry about a yard or maintenance. She could call someone if she had a leaky faucet. There's a reasonable monthly fee for all that. It seemed to be ideal."
"Seemed to be?"
"She still likes the idea of a small house of her own, so she's going to think about it."
"So she's serious about moving back here."
"I think so, though I don't know how that will affect her new dating relationship. Or if she cares if it does. I'm not sure she wants to be with anyone."
Gabe motioned to the stairs. "Let's go down."
"You don't want to put that back in the box?" she motioned to the papers.
"No. I'll come back up tomorrow night and finish. I've been putting it off for too long."
After they returned to the second floor, April asked, "So how was Stephie?"
"An armful. But she did fall asleep easily. It's possible she was just overtired."
"I suppose," April said.
"Did you eat?" he asked.
"We stopped at a family diner. I had a sandwich and mother had a cup of coffee."
Of one mind, they walked down the hall to Stephie's room. The door was ajar and they both peeked inside. She was sleeping peacefully on her side and looked like a little angel.
"To be able to sleep like that," April murmured.
Gabe nudged her around to face him. "You're not sleeping well?"
"I have a lot on my mind."
"Like?" he prompted.
She only hesitated a second. "Like...us."
She looked so vulnerable at that moment, as if the past two nights had been particularly special to her. He slid his hand under her hair, bent his head, brought her close, and claimed her lips. Her response was exactly what he'd hoped it would be—excited, passionate, and reciprocating.
He didn't hold back but pressed her against the wall. Their bodies fit together so well. Her hands had gone around his neck and now he took them from there and held one on either side of her head. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, teasing them both, and he muffled a groan.
"Do you know what you're doing?" he whispered.
"The same thing you're doing," was her flip reply.
He pressed another kiss to her lips while he matched their bodies and rocked his hips against hers.
When he broke away, she murmured, "Gabe, I'm going to melt at your feet."
Is that what he wanted? April melting at his feet? What he wanted, was to make love to a woman knowing she was as enthralled with sex as he was, knowing giving and receiving pleasure was on both their minds, understanding that joining their bodies was more than physical. He'd tasted that exquisite pleasure with April and was hungry for it all over again.
He kissed April's eyelids, the curve of her cheek, the line of her neck. "My bedroom or yours?" he asked in a raspy tone.
"Gabe, maybe we should talk first. I have something I want to—"
"Talking is overrated," he decided, kissing her again. He wanted to make her breathless with need. He wanted their desire to unravel her and make her come apart in his arms.
Scooping her up, he carried her to his bedroom. Once there, he shut the door. By his bed, he laid April on it and looked down at her. He had to be sure about where they were headed. He had to be sure their desires matched. "Is this where you want to be?" he asked huskily.
She glanced at the bed and then up at him. "I want to be with you."
That's all he needed to hear. "Undress," he said."
"You don't want to do it?" she asked playfully.
But he wasn't in the mood to be playful. "If I do it, I'll rip something."
Her eyes widened a bit, but she looked as if the idea pleased her.
He started unbuttoning his shirt. It was as if they were in a race to see who could undress first. Soon their clothes littered the bed and the floor, and then he was beside her, taking her into his arms, kissing her as if it were the last kiss they'd ever share.
April raked her nails down his back and he liked the idea of her scratches on him. If this was going to be a mating ritual, he wanted them both to be branded with it, to never forget it, to be able to relive it in their minds and go there because thinking about it was exciting. The desire he felt tonight didn't want to be confined or restrained, and he let it free because he wanted April to match it.
She didn't disappoint him. She seemed as greedy to give him pleasure as he was to give her pleasure. He kissed her neck. In turn, she nipped his chest. She reached for him, taking him in her hands. Desire between them that had seemed to build up for years erupted. Although yesterday she'd said her leg was fine, when he ran his hands over her body, he was mindful of it and her fall. Desire could stamp out pain. The need for climax could send magical feelings through the rest of the body. That's what had happened the last two nights. But now she moved as if she'd never fallen. She bent her legs and cradled him between her thighs. He thrust into her, meaning to forget everything in the attic, everything in the past, everything that meant nothing in this moment.
Their passion went wild. Their bodies reached the melting point together. When April cried her release, Gabe was right with her, experiencing ecstasy of his own.
Afterward, he collapsed beside her and held her tightly.
But he came back to earth with a jolt when April murmured, "We didn't use protection."
No, they hadn't. Neither of them had been thinking clearly enough to be smart.
The way April's body was tucked into his, seemingly relaxed, he suspected little sleep the past two nights had caught up with her.
He brushed her hair over her shoulder and whispered next to her ear, "We'll talk about it in the morning."
She must have agreed with him because she snuggled deeper into him, nodded, and sighed.
Although tonight April had fallen asleep almost as easily as Stephie, Gabe couldn't find slumber. What if April did get pregnant? What if she didn't want to join their lives? What if she ran off as she had five years ago? Had she left because of her career? Or had she left because a relationship had scared her? Was he ready to jump back in to something serious? A commitment with promises as he'd made once before?
Those receipts in the attic gnawed at him. The open box seemed to beckon to him.
He extricated himself from April, lifted his jeans from the edge of the bed, and put them on. He took a last look at her before he left the room. On her side, her hair splayed across one of his pillows, he liked the picture of her there.
His feet and chest bare, he went up to the attic, intent on finishing what he'd started. He was still hot from what he and April had done, so the cooler temperature felt good on his skin. Crossing to the box, he sat on the floor once more. He lifted the receipts he'd examined before and nothing had changed. He'd never noticed expenses like this. He'd never monitored Vanessa's check writing or how much she spent. She contributed to some of their house expenses but for the most part, her salary was hers.
He found a brochure from one of the accounts she worked with. He even found a candy wrapper. She'd had a penchant for peanuts and caramel, and h
e'd often teased her about it. At the beginning anyway.
He lifted out about ten sheets of paper that were folded together. A green plastic clip made sure they didn't separate. Now he slipped off the clip and unfolded the papers. They were e-mails. E-mails from Larry Powell.
****
Chapter Nine
Gabe shifted through the e-mails, one by one. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, what struck him most vividly at first was the time span. They stretched over a three-year period, from almost a year before Stephie was born until the night of Vanessa's accident. Vanessa and Larry Powell's accident.
Gabe didn't know how he'd been so blind, how he'd had such tunnel vision, how he hadn't noticed his wife was having an affair under his nose. He felt like a complete fool. He'd thought promises the day they'd wed meant something. He'd expected fidelity to be a value they both embraced. He believed their marriage had been important to them both. How could Vanessa have hidden so much so well?
The e-mails began with a flirty tone. They must have sent them back and forth at work. Meet me for a drink after work? Larry Powell asked. I can make you happier than any Cosmopolitan for Happy Hour. Larry's next e-mail had Vanessa's reply, a one-liner that read, That sounds exciting.
She'd wanted excitement.
Gabe had wanted a family.
Larry's follow-up e-mail had been a one-liner. Excitement is my middle name. Meet me at Rafferty's.
Gabe knew the pub was located not far from where Vanessa had worked.
Why had she kept these? For the same reason any woman kept love letters?
But these e-mails weren't about love. Gabe didn't want to read them, he really didn't. Yet he was fascinated by them in a horrified way. Besides logistics, meeting places, and dates, and times there were sexual references and playful banter about what they wanted to do to each other when they were alone.
However, after that, came the more serious e-mails. Vanessa had written—I'm pregnant. What are we going to do? She'd known who Stephie belonged to right from the start. And then... Larry's reply was succinct. Have sex with your husband so he believes the baby's his. Have lots of it.
April's Promise (Forever Love Series) Page 10
