by Donna Alward
Watching the two of them play by the water, the way the father patiently kept the boy from the edge, or pointed out all the different colored feathers from each species, warmed his heart. The ache was bittersweet; he was sure he would never quite get over losing his child. But it hurt less today.
Jess looked over at him, put her hand on his knee. “They’re sweet, aren’t they?”
He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away. “He’s a good dad.”
“You can have it again someday, you know,” she offered gently. “When you’re ready.”
Bran tore himself away from the father and son scene and met her gaze. “No,” he said quietly. “I can’t. I can’t go through that again. But I’m getting to a place where I’m okay with it.”
“Then maybe you’ll get to a place where you’ll consider it again, too. You never know.”
But he shook his head. “No,” he repeated. “I know. I had my shot at a family, and I won’t chance going through this hell again.”
The pink in her cheeks deepened. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to press.”
“You didn’t. It’s just...there’s not much I’m sure of. But that’s one thing I am. And I’ve made my peace with it.”
The father and son had moved on, skirting the pond. And Bran got up from the bench, ready to move on, as well.
* * *
Jess shoved her sketch pad into her bag and hurried to catch up with Bran, who was starting down the path toward the middle of the gardens. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but clearly she had. She should have known better than to bring up fatherhood. It was still too raw for him. At the same time, she’d never been more sure that their relationship was destined for a dead end. He really didn’t want a family again, and she did. Being with him, and being around the Fishers had shown her that she did want children of her own. And a partner to share life with. And yet something held her back from saying the words out loud. She could tell Bran all about life not giving guarantees, but she also understood why a person wouldn’t want to set themselves up for potential heartbreak.
After all, she’d been doing it for years.
And still there was Bran to consider. It would be easier to end things right now. Probably smarter, too. But she didn’t want to. Not yet.
“Hey, wait up,” she called, trotting to catch up to him. When she did, she took a deep breath and matched her steps to his. “You gonna be okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“I overstepped, Bran. I really am sorry.”
He reached down for her hand, a reassuring gesture that touched her heart. “I know you are. And don’t worry about pressing me. It’s good for me. It helps, even when it makes me grumpy.”
Forgiven, she kept her hand in his as they made their way to the large gazebo that was the centerpiece of the gardens. People milled around, and there was a line at a small building to their left, which appeared to house public bathrooms and a small café, complete with ice cream. The large patio area was full of people enjoying the sweet, cold treat. “You want some?” Bran asked.
“Do you?” She wasn’t really hungry, even though they hadn’t had lunch. The big breakfast had been super filling, but could she really pass up ice cream in the park?
“A small one? It looks delicious.”
They detoured into the building and waited in line for the hand-paddled treat. When they got to the front of the line, she chose blueberries and cream for her flavor. Bran went for a more sedate maple walnut, and then they emerged out into the bright sunshine again.
“Let’s find a place to sit,” he suggested. “Someplace with shade. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting a sunburn.”
She was sure the sun had already left a bit of a burn on her shoulders. Her pale complexion meant she burned easily, and she hadn’t thought to bring sunscreen today. “How about up there?” She pointed to the top end of the garden, where there was an open area bordered by benches and leafy trees. There was even a chess table adding character to the area.
“Perfect.”
Her ice cream was starting to melt by the time they got to the benches, and they picked one that was shaded and would remain so as the sun shifted. For several minutes they ate in comfortable silence. Despite the earlier tension, Jess couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so comfortable with someone. They didn’t need to talk. Didn’t need to fill up the space with empty words that meant nothing. She finished her ice cream, and he finished his, and he took their garbage to a nearby trash can. When he came back, he put his arm along the back of the bench, and she relaxed against him, her head resting in the curve of his shoulder.
“People watching,” he said softly. “I love people watching.”
“Ana and I used to make up stories about people,” she offered, a smile touching her lips. “Like that woman there.” She nodded toward a woman several yards away, sitting on an identical bench and reading. “What’s her story, do you think?”
Bran tapped a finger to his lips. “She’s waiting for someone, but he’s late. He’s always late, so she brings a book so she doesn’t look as if she’s waiting.”
“Well, that’s sad. Why does she have to be waiting for a man, anyway?” She lifted her eyebrows. “I think she’s single. Maybe she’s just broken up with someone because she wants to be put first. So she’s putting herself first and spending an afternoon exactly how she wants—in the gardens in the sunshine and with a good book.”
“The heroine of her own life.”
“You bet.” She grinned up at him. “Do you always go for the sad and tragic?”
“Waiting for someone isn’t exactly tragic.”
“I don’t know. Waiting for someone who is chronically late and doesn’t care enough to show up on time... I mean, if someone loves you, they should be impatient. Like they can’t wait for that moment when they see you again. A thirst that needs to be quenched.”
He laughed and squeezed her shoulder a little. “Are you sure you’re not a writer?”
“I’m an observer,” she answered. “Okay, tell me another one.”
He looked around for a moment, then nodded. “That old gentleman there.” The man in question was walking slowly along the path with the aid of a cane. A cap shielded his eyes, and he wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants even though the day was hot. “He comes here every day to walk. He used to come here with his wife, but she’s no longer with him. But it doesn’t matter to him. He’s not sad. He walks and he remembers, and he’s thankful for the years they had together. And when he gets home to his little apartment, he tells her picture about everything he saw. Because she’s still with him.”
She loved the wistful picture he drew with words. “You’re a romantic, Branson Black. Don’t deny it.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I can be. When I’m not murdering people and creating horrible villains.”
“Everyone has a little darkness inside them. It’s all about the choices.”
He was quiet for a few moments.
“I saw the darkness for a while, Jess. I’m not gonna lie.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“It’s not so dark lately, though. I have you to thank for that.”
Her heart warmed, and a tingly sensation wound its way from her chest down to her belly. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have this visceral reaction to him, and other times she reveled in it. Today he’d made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything serious, wasn’t looking to have more children or a family. Where did that leave her? She wanted those things. Maybe not right this minute, but eventually. Hoping for him to change was a sure path to disappointment. This summer—these few weeks—were all they would have together. She wanted to cherish them, but to do so she had to remind herself that she could not fall in love with him, and she had to live in the moment.
Could she do that? Because if she couldn’t, she should walk away right now.
She looked up at him. He’d closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun that filtered through the leafy canopy.
As if he could sense her gaze, he said, “You should sketch. You know you want to.”
She did, so she leaned forward and retrieved her sketch pad. But it wasn’t flowers or trees or strangers that she drew. It was him, and the angle of his jaw, the crisp edges of his lips, his soft eyelashes, and the way his unruly hair touched his shoulders when his head was tipped back.
She wasn’t in love, but she wouldn’t lie and say her heart wasn’t involved. Of course it was. Her pencil moved quickly across the paper, then she reached for another with a softer lead. She wanted to capture the unguarded moment as best she could before he opened his eyes and caught her.
The sketch was rough but there was something in it she liked. It wasn’t perfect, but the sweeping strokes captured an urgency and energy that surprised her.
Bran opened his eyes, squinting and looking at her. She turned the page over and smiled up at him, hoping he hadn’t seen the sketch. She wanted it just for her.
She wanted to have something to remember him by when their time together was over.
As, of course, it would be.
CHAPTER NINE
HE TOOK HER to dinner at a seafood restaurant in the city’s downtown core. While she went for a seafood pasta, he ordered steak and an appetizer of mussels in a garlic cream sauce. Best of all was the history of the place, which had its beginnings as a school, then as a mortuary, particularly during the time of the Titanic sinking and a massive explosion that had leveled the north end during the First World War. Jess listened raptly as Bran told her what he knew of the place, and then grinned when he said it was haunted.
“Do you really believe in that stuff?” she asked, taking a sip of the fine semi-dry white she’d ordered.
“Of course I do. Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I think it’s possible. I just haven’t experienced anything that would, you know, make me really believe.”
After a moment of hesitation, she looked up at him. “Have you ever, you know, seen a ghost?”
He furrowed his brow and picked at his potato for a few moments. “No? I mean, not actually seen a ghost. But I’ve felt things that I can’t really explain.”
She held her breath as she asked, “You mean Jennie?”
He sighed and met her gaze, his eyes sad. “You know, at times I kind of wish Jennie would show up. I’d like to see her again. And then as soon as I think that, I realize that if she did, it’d scare me to death. I don’t know what I’d do. Or say.”
And make it harder to let go, Jess thought, but she kept the words locked inside.
They changed the subject and chatted over the magnificent dinner, and even though Jess was stuffed, she agreed to share a serving of lemon tart. It was after eight when they finished and made their way back to his car. It would be ten before they reached home, and just dark, as the days were long. Jess was determined now not to return to the maudlin subject of his wife; it had dampened the mood earlier and while she had no problem being an ear for his thoughts, twice during the day she’d felt as if there was a third person on their date. It seemed Bran was determined, too, because he’d reverted back to his easy manner as he opened the car door for her, and closed it solicitously before getting in on the driver’s side. Once behind the wheel, he hesitated, then reached for her hand.
“Thank you for allowing me to tag along today. It was nice, don’t you think?”
Yes, it had been nice. Despite the conversation getting heavy at times. She’d enjoyed his company, but something had been missing. So nice was a perfectly adequate word.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. He hadn’t yet started the car, and the silence around them was heavy.
She shifted in her seat and looked over at him. “Did things get weird today? Are you having regrets?”
His eyes warmed. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry if I got moody. It’s just that...well, for a long time, that moodiness was a constant. Lately not so much.” He squeezed her fingers. “Lately I’ve found myself enjoying things. I forget to be sad. So when those moments creep in, I’m not ready for them.” He smiled a little. “I think it’s a good thing, really. Forgetting to be sad. Maybe someday I actually won’t be sad at all.”
She squeezed his hand back. “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “I wondered if I’d done something wrong.”
“No, nothing,” he assured her, and then leaned over the seat and kissed her gently. “You are lovely and sweet and strong.” He kissed her again, and she melted a little, leaning into the soft and seductive contact. “You’re just what I need, Jess.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she opened her mouth and led him to a deeper kiss. Desire darkened the sweetness of it, like rich chocolate over marshmallow. He let go of her hand and threaded his fingers through her hair, and she moaned against his lips as his strong fingers massaged the back of her head.
He pulled away, a little reluctantly, she thought, and stared down at her. “We’re in a car in broad daylight,” he said, his voice a bit rough. “Put a pin in this until we get home?”
“It’s a long drive,” she said.
“We could spend the night in the city. Drive back in the morning.”
The suggestion came as such a surprise she was temporarily dumbstruck. Finally she managed a weak, “Bran...”
“Order room service for breakfast.”
Never in her life had she ever rented a hotel room for sex. And yet the two-hour drive seemed interminably long, and the idea of spending the night in a hotel was exciting. His gaze held hers and the tension in the car leaped. “Bran,” she said, trying for a low note of caution. Instead that single syllable—his name—came out with a breathy sort of yearning. “I think... I want to...”
Oh, dear.
He turned the car on and pulled out of the spot, navigating a few streets until he reached the hotel she’d noticed earlier, across from the gardens. He parked in the underground garage, and without looking at her, got out and came around to open her door.
She grabbed her tote bag while a rush of feelings swept through her body. Excitement. Arousal, for sure. Anxiety. Were they rushing things? Was this really a smart idea?
“Relax,” he whispered, taking her hand as they made their way into the hotel and to the front desk. Within moments he’d secured them a room and was guiding her to the elevator.
As they waited for the elevator, Bran took her hand. Jess swallowed against a nervous lump in her throat. Were they really doing this? Last night had been one thing. They’d been in her place, talking and snuggling after a make-out session on the beach. It had seemed...a logical progression of events. This was different. The bell dinged and the doors opened, and Bran guided her inside. She let out a long slow breath and asked herself a sudden question.
What would Ana do?
Jess bit down on her lip. Ana wasn’t here. But Ana had lived life until the last moment, and she’d undoubtedly tell Jess to grab what happiness she could while it lasted. Jess chanced a look over at Bran, and he looked back at her, unsmiling, his dark eyes gleaming. None of the intensity in the car had been lost, and she got a thrill seeing the desire in his eyes.
No one was guaranteed another day. Look at Ana. Look at Jennie. You had to grab each day and its precious, fleeting moments.
The doors opened and they stepped out, then hesitated while Bran scanned the plate on the wall with arrows to room numbers.
They were off again, down the hall, stopping in front of a door, waiting while he let them in and shut the door behind them.
Jess had a glimpse of a king-sized bed covered in white and gold linens, and matching draperies on either side of an elegant
desk. It was more luxurious than even Bran’s room at his house, but the moment after the door shut, the sheer opulence of the room was forgotten. Bran’s mouth was on hers, his hands were on her waist and she was swept entirely away into a sea of sensation.
CHAPTER TEN
BRAN WOKE WITH light streaming through the window. He checked the clock beside the bed: five forty. The days were incredibly long at this time of year. Last night, before they’d fallen asleep, sated, it had still been daylight. He’d slept straight through, dreamless. He regretted that he hadn’t awakened in the night, simply to make the hours last longer.
Jess was breathing slow and deep beside him, her face turned toward him, her hair strewn on the white linen of the pillowcase. She was so beautiful, with her sunrise-colored hair and delicate lips. An unfamiliar tenderness washed over him. The sex was fantastic, but it was more than that. They were friends.
He wondered if that friendship would be ruined now that they’d slept together. Certainly, after the summer, their relationship would be over. And yet he’d miss her. She understood him in a way that was so...well, easy.
Yes, he was going to miss her.
She shifted and rolled to her right side, so that her back was to him. It was early to wake her, so instead he slid closer, gently putting his arm over her waist and snuggling in, spoon-style. He closed his eyes and drank in the scent of her hair and the light musk of her skin. For two years he’d slept alone. The last two nights he’d had Jess with him, and it would be too easy to get used to her there. Spending time with her was one thing. Having fun was fine. But he wouldn’t use her as a tonic for his loneliness, and he wouldn’t get too used to her.
Last night had been impulsive and exciting, but they couldn’t make a habit of this, could they?
