by Lori Wilde
He entered the house through the back door. He’d cleaned the blood that first night—mopped it out of the kitchen and bathroom, soaked it out of the carpet in the hallway. It hadn’t come out completely, of course. If he looked to his right, he’d see the dark stain where Elizabeth had collapsed in the hall.
He didn’t look. He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Then he sat at the kitchen table and drank it down, staring at the wall and willing himself not to think.
Would Olivia want you to live like this, Nate?
He should never have hooked up with Elizabeth. He should never have let himself get involved with her or her quest to find her father. He should never have sought comfort and solace in her arms.
Would Olivia want you to live like this?
He slammed the bottle down onto the table and beer frothed over the top. He swore, then stood and went to the fridge. Clearly, reinforcements were called for. Beer wasn’t going to cut it today.
He opened the freezer and found himself staring at ice cream and frozen vegetables and meat. Only then did he remember that Lizzy had relegated his vodka bottle to the cupboard. She’d claimed it was because they needed the freezer space, but he’d known it was part of her quietly determined effort to encourage him to drink less.
He crossed the kitchen and pulled open the cabinet over the counter. He could see the vodka bottle, lying on its side along the back, but his gaze was drawn to the pink-and-white plastic bag of marshmallows sitting at the front of the shelf. A sticky note was attached to the bag, Lizzy’s old-school cursive script curling across the small square of paper: Don’t even think about finishing these without me!!!
Like a physical blow, clarity tensed his gut and made him take a step backward.
He would never see Elizabeth again. He’d ensured that with his words and actions today. There would be no more of her laughter and dry looks and calm certainty. He would never touch the silk of her skin or taste her kisses or see the warm, clear light in her eyes. He would never walk into a room and smell her perfume and know she was nearby. As far as he was concerned, it would be as though she had died that night in his bloodstained hallway. She would become nothing but a memory.
But she wouldn’t really be dead. She would be in London, living her life. He imagined how it might be—Lizzy at school teaching her kids, finding her way again on the other side of the world. Her tan fading, along with her memories of him. And then, eventually, she would meet someone else and fall in love. She’d get married and have children. And some other lucky bastard would get to sleep with her each night and grow old with her and comfort her when she needed it and make her laugh when she was sad and infuriate and challenge and adore her.
He sucked in a ragged breath.
Jesus, he wanted to be that lucky bastard. He wanted the peace of waking in her arms. He wanted the joy of being inside her, her body warm against his. He wanted to watch her bloom as she discovered all the things about herself she’d been too scared and dutiful to acknowledge. He wanted the happiness she offered so easily, so openly.
He wanted a future full of hope and possibility, not this quarter-life of regret and fear and loneliness.
The moment he acknowledged his own desire, the old guilt rose inside him. How could he open himself to so much happiness when Olivia was gone? How could he allow himself to live fully without her? If he picked up the threads of his life, if he kept growing Smartsell and he allowed himself to have Elizabeth, if he could truly live again, it would be as though he was denying Olivia ever existed. As though her death meant nothing to him.
You turning away from life is not going to bring Olivia back.
Nate closed his eyes. He knew Lizzy was right. Olivia was dead. He missed her like crazy, would probably continue to miss her like crazy every day for the rest of his life, but all the guilt and pain and self-flagellating in the world was not going to bring her back.
The bottom line was that she was gone. And he was not.
And he didn’t want to keep living like this. He didn’t want to be a victim of his own memories. He didn’t want to let fear control his world.
But most of all he didn’t want to let Lizzy go. In a few short weeks she had turned his life upside down. He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. And maybe it made him a bad brother and a weak, selfish bastard, but so be it.
He chose life. He chose Lizzy.
If she’d still have him.
He was on his feet in a split second, out the door a heartbeat after that. He broke into a run. He’d go back to the pub, ask Trevor for his car again. Lizzy would still be at the hospital. And if she wasn’t, he’d track her down. Wherever she’d gone.
His step faltered as he registered the beaten-up four-wheel drive parked out the front of his house. A woman was sliding carefully out of the passenger seat, a man on crutches hovering protectively at her side.
“Lizzy,” he said, stopping in his tracks.
Her head came up and the look she gave him was pure defiant challenge.
“Don’t bother telling me to go away, Nathan, because I’m not going anywhere. It’s taken me half my life to work out what I want and no way am I walking away from it now. So I don’t care what you say, I’m staying, and I’m going to keep loving you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
He closed the distance between them in three strides. Then he pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek against the crown of her head, breathing in the smell of her.
Elizabeth was very still in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Slowly her body relaxed and she wrapped her good arm around him.
“This had better mean what I think it does,” she said, her voice muffled by the front of his shirt.
He smiled slightly.
“That was your cue to say something reassuring. In case you missed it,” she said.
He loosened his arms enough to look into her face. “I love you.”
She bit her lip. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone.
“Did I mess up my line?” he asked.
“No. It was perfect. I just thought I was going to have to wrestle you to the ground before I got you to admit it.”
“I want this, Lizzy. I want you. I want to make it work. I know it’s been tough. It’s probably going to be tough again. I’ll go back to my therapist, talk to my doctor about medication. I’ll do what I can. But—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “My love doesn’t come with buts. It just is. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”
She looked into his eyes, her own very steady and certain.
“Lizzy,” he said, but the rest of the things he wanted to say got caught in his throat.
She smiled and stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.
“I know.”
Epilogue
Six months later
ELIZABETH CHECKED HER watch and stood on her toes again, trying to see around the people standing in front of them at the international arrivals gate.
Nate put his arm around her shoulders. “Relax, Lizzy. They’ll walk through the doors, we’ll see them. It’s a pretty simple process.”
This was their second trip to the airport for the week. Her grandparents had arrived on Monday, flying in easy stages from London for her grandmother’s benefit. No one had been more surprised than Elizabeth when they announced they were coming to visit. She and Nate had already planned to fly to London for their wedding, but her grandparents’ announcement had led to a hurried reorganizing of events, the upshot of which was that two weeks from now, she and Nate would walk down the aisle at a beautiful Gothic revival church in Albert Park with both her grandparents and her father in attendance.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about how her grandparents and Sam would cope with coming face-to-face after so many years and so many mistakes on both sides. But Sam was a part of her life now whether her grandparents liked it or not so they were going to have to work thing
s out between them.
“Remind me again how long we’re going to have all these houseguests?” Nate said.
“Grandmama and Grandpa for three weeks. Violet for four.”
He pulled a face. “That seems like a pretty long time.”
She knew what he was thinking about—having her grandparents in residence definitely put a damper on their sex life.
“We could always sneak away for a weekend. Go down to the island.”
His eyes lit up. “Keep talking.”
“We could hole up in the studio and not come out all weekend,” she said.
Nate lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “And then?”
She lowered her own voice and turned to face him, looping her arms loosely around his neck. “Then you could help me grade all the papers for Year Nine English.”
“Hmm. Not quite what I had in mind.”
He was smiling and she reached up to smooth his hair.
“Let me think about it. See if I can come up with a little something else,” she said.
“You do that.”
His phone rang and she let her arms drop so he could move away to take it. She could tell by the way his gaze grew distant that it was a business call. He’d started back at Smartsell four months ago, working part-time at first and gradually increasing his hours until he was fully back into the swing of things. To say that Jarvie was happy was an understatement. He was like an overly affectionate dog when he was around Nate, hugely grateful to have his old friend back on deck.
It hadn’t all been smooth sailing. Nate had had trouble sleeping again when he returned to his therapist, the therapy stirring up difficult memories. There had been bouts of withdrawal and bad temper, too, in the early days. He’d become so used to being on his own, to keeping his own counsel. But they had both persevered, and things had slowly shifted. He was still uncomfortable with night driving—he made himself do it, but she was always aware that it was an effort, a sort of trial-by-endurance that he made himself face. She knew he was still prone to the occasional anxiety attack, but they were getting better, too.
And last month, they’d cleaned out Olivia’s room. It had been heartbreaking, packing away the remnants of a life that had barely started. It had been Nate’s decision, reached in his own time. Elizabeth had kept aside a few things—some soft toys, some cushions Olivia had sewn, a handful of well-thumbed children’s books. One day, when she and Nate had children, she wanted them to have a connection to their aunt. “Lizzy.”
Elizabeth started out of her introspection to glance at Nate.
“Is it just me, or is that what’s-his-name?” he asked as he pocketed his phone.
She followed his sight line and blinked.
What on earth was Martin doing here? Then a familiar redhead appeared over his shoulder. Martin and Violet. Together?
It was such an absurd idea she laughed. It must be a coincidence.
Then Violet looked up and caught Elizabeth’s eye, and the guilt and defiance and hope in her friend’s face made Elizabeth press her fingers to her lips with shock.
“Let me guess—that’s Violet?” Nate said close to her ear.
“Yes. But they hate each other, Nate. They used to fight like cat and dog. She used to call him Droopy Drawers and he could barely say her name without sneering.”
Nate shrugged. “Stranger things have happened, Lizzy.”
She met his eyes. There was so much love and understanding there that she couldn’t help but smile.
“Yes, they have, haven’t they?” Their hands found each other, fingers weaving together.
Thank God he’d forgiven himself. Thank God he’d given them a chance.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go hear their story.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6670-8
Copyright © 2010 Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Sweet Surrender
Copyright © 2010 by Laurie Vanzura
Her Private Treasure
Copyright © 2010 by Etherington, Inc.
Hot-Blooded
Copyright © 2010 by Karen Foley
Riding the Waves
Copyright © 2010 by Tawny Weber
The Lawman
Copyright © 2010 by Patricia Potter
Hot Island Nights
Copyright © 2010 by Small Cow Productions PTY Ltd.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
