A Second Chance at Forever

by Stewart, JM

  If he’d wanted to see anybody this weekend, it was her. The old familiar pain had begun to grip his chest two weeks ago. He’d managed hold it at bay for months now by burying himself in his cases and refusing to face it, but the anniversaries were too much.

  The memories were doing his head in. They were everywhere, in every part of the city around him, every part of the house, echoing off the walls and through his mind, like a ghost demanding to be acknowledged by the waking world. Reminders of the day he’d had to give up hope and face the reality that life as he’d known it had ceased to exist. Here in Manhattan he couldn’t escape them.

  Yet here was Angela, like the sunshine had walked through his front door, so bright and warm in an otherwise dismal reality. Did she know how much he’d longed to see her? How much he wanted to bury his face in her throat and forget everything else but the sweet smell of her skin?

  He followed her into the living room, at a loss as to what to say, somehow resisting the overwhelming urge to simply wrap his arms around her. She stopped in the center of the room, in front of the oak coffee table, and turned to face him, a gentle but nervous smile curving her mouth. For a moment only the dull hum of the television news filled the silence.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d actually let me in,” she said finally.

  She had no idea. “Like I could actually say no to you.”

  A soft flush spread into her face, her cheeks turning a very becoming shade of pink that had his mind rushing straight into the bedroom, as if to prove how weak he was when it came to her. If she was going to stay, though, he had to be honest with her.

  He took another few steps forward, close enough that the subtle scent of her perfume floated around him. “I meant what I said, though, Ang. My head’s not in a good place right now.” He shook his head. “Every other day, I can go on like it’s nothing. I can forget and move on. But this one’s just…hard. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

  Her brow furrowed in concern as she took a step toward him. “Nobody said you had to do this alone.” She rested a hand against his chest and stared at him, so deep into his eyes it unnerved him.

  It made him tremble with the beginning of something he didn’t want to acknowledge. Like she could look right into his soul. He swore as he stared back—because he couldn’t look away if he tried—that he felt her touch him there, in that deep place. The need to lay his heart at her feet swelled to life inside of him.

  A place nobody had touched since Karen.

  A place that left him tied in knots. He wanted a future with her, yet the way she looked at him now, the way she made him yearn to lose himself in her arms, terrified him. He didn’t know if he was ready to walk that road again. Nothing had been clearer to him then when he’d stood in Mel’s kitchen two weeks ago, unable to stop the pain of this day from washing over him. He may want a future with Angela, with those babies she carried, but he still hadn’t moved beyond the pain of the past. Every damn day he wished he could somehow bring them back.

  That wasn’t fair to Angela. He wanted so much more for her. Shouldn’t he want more for her than what he could offer? Shouldn’t he want for her to have it all and not settle for someone…broken?

  She was here, however. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t damn glad to see her.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked, forcing his mind to focus on something other than his twisting thoughts. Obviously she wasn’t going anywhere. He might as well enjoy her while he had her.

  “At the Holiday Inn, Midtown.”

  Midtown Manhattan was right around the corner, but still too far away.

  “You could stay here, you know.” It took everything he had to remain where he stood, to not step forward, take her in his arms, and beg her to stay. He wanted her as close as he could possibly get her. Not that he had a right to even ask her that.

  She shook her head. “That would have required telling you I was coming.”

  “I would have told you not to.”

  “Exactly. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the weekend.” She stepped forward, hooked her arm through his, and peered at him. “So, what’s there to do on a Friday night in New York City?”

  His heart lightened just looking at her. She provided the distraction he needed tonight.

  He shook his head, playfully narrowing his eyes. “Uh-uh. My birthday’s not until tomorrow. Tonight’s mine. You want the New York experience, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, then we can start with dinner. It’s been a long day, and I’m starving. I was thinking about dinner before you arrived. I always have pizza on Friday nights.”

  “A creature of habit,” she murmured, her eyes glittering with amusement.

  He couldn’t help smiling in return at her obvious enjoyment of this revelation of his character. She was right. He was a creature of habit. “It’s my favorite. I live for Fridays. No stay in this great city is complete without eating pizza. Are you hungry?”

  She glanced down and rubbed a hand over her stomach. “I could eat, and pizza actually sounds yummy.”

  “Good.” He released her hand and tugged the tie from around his neck. “I had court this morning. Let me go change. Feel free to look around.”

  Five minutes and a quick change later, he found her across the hall, standing in the doorway of what was now a spare bedroom.

  One of the two rooms in the house he hated the most, his own bedroom being the first.

  “Hailey’s room.” He stopped behind her, peered over her shoulder into the room beyond. With the exception of the pink walls, all traces of his daughter were gone. Like always, his stomach sank at the sight of it.

  “Must have been hard going through all of that. Getting rid of it all.” Angela darted a glance back at him, a worried frown marring her forehead, before she turned back to the room. “Mom told me once that the hardest thing she’d ever done when Dad died was going through his things and getting rid of them. Said it made her feel like she was erasing him.”

  An apt description.

  He made a sound at the back of his throat, remembering the day he’d gone in there to get rid of everything. He remembered too what had made him do it in the first place. “Was harder walking past this room every morning expecting her to be in it and the following disappointment of remembering that she wasn’t.”

  Without looking at him, Angela reached back and took his right hand with her own. Her fingers slid, soft, smooth, and comforting, between his. Something inside of him sighed with relief.

  “I kept a few things.” Keeping hold of Angela’s hand and the lifeline it provided, he tugged her behind him as he moved into the room and around to the closet that stood on the left wall.

  He’d cleaned the entire room, had painstakingly taken down each item and boxed it away. Each detail of that weekend, every stitch of clothing, seemed permanently imbedded in his memory. He’d donated most of it, the clothes, blankets, and toys, but had kept a few mementos. Hailey’s most cherished possessions.

  He pulled open the sliding doors to reveal a bookshelf built into the back wall of the closet. His mind filled with the image, the toys that used to be there, overflowing the white wooden shelves and spilling out onto the carpeted floor. More toys than any four year old ever needed. Now the space stood empty, save a Barbie doll and a white stuffed dog, his fur flattened in some places, worn bare in others.

  “The two things she couldn’t live without.” Pain squeezed his chest. “I couldn’t bring myself to give them away. They remind me of her.”

  Angela picked up the dog, peering down at it for a moment, before turning to look at him. “Who’s this guy?”

  Something in her expression got to him. Those big blue eyes told him more than words could that somehow she understood how difficult this was for him. Not only to stand in this space and see the items he hadn’t been able to get rid of, but to bare it all to her. Doing so made him feel…open and exposed. His first instinct was to want to shut it all off. H
e’d always been a private person, preferred to keep the hard stuff to himself and deal with them on his own. It had always driven Karen crazy, that he felt the need to shoulder the burdens by himself. He supposed he’d gotten it from his father, who had always been the same way, a quiet man of few emotions.

  Yet at the same time, he had this need to share this particular wound with Angela, in a way he found terrifying. She had this way of opening him up, of making him want to run to and from her at the same time. She also made his heart simply glad to be alive, like being with her healed all those broken parts inside.

  “This…” He took the dog from her and ran his thumb over the soft fur, the memory rising in his thoughts. “Is Rufus, guardian of the closet. He protects little girls from closet monsters.”

  He remembered the day he’d brought the toy home to her, how it had soothed away fears of an empty, dark closet.

  Angela let out a quiet laugh that lit up Alex’s insides, then reached in and plucked out the doll. “She was a Barbie girl too, I see.”

  The doll itself was, as it had always been, dressed in pink from neck to toe, its platinum blond hair having never seen a brush and sticking straight up.

  Alex rolled his eyes and set the stuffed dog back on the shelf. “You have no idea. Barbie pajamas, Barbie shoes, Barbie blankets, sheets, and pillow cases. If it had Barbie on it or in it she had to have it.”

  “You spoiled her.” Angela set the doll back on the shelf.

  Alex felt her gaze on him and turned to find her smiling, her eyes soft, amused.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

  Had been from the day Hailey was born.

  As Angela continued to stare at him, her amusement melted into gentle concern. Her fingers tightened around his. “Tomorrow’s going to be hard for you.”

  He wanted to tell her again how much she deserved better than him, better than what he could give her right now.

  The words sat like acid on the tip of his tongue. He was being selfish. The notion ate at him, like a dog gnawing relentlessly on a bone, constantly digging deeper. It dared him to face the truth, to do what he knew was best for her.

  Except he could only focus on the soft concern written on her face. The warmth of her fingers in his. Her comforting presence wrapped around him like a warm blanket, made him want to dig deeper into it and forget the pain altogether.

  Maybe a stronger man could push her away, but he sure wasn’t that man.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here.” He reached up, stroked his fingers over her skin, reveling in its softness, then dropped his hand. He jerked his head in the direction of the doorway. “Come on. I’m starving.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Angela stood in the doorway of her hotel room the following morning, stunned by the sight that greeted her. Out in the quiet hallway, a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard carrier containing two tall brown paper cups in the other—coffee she presumed—stood Alex. The smile on his mouth lit up his entire face. He wore a simple pair of khaki shorts and another of those body hugging polo shirts that only seemed to accentuate the width of his chest and shoulders. His hair looked tousled by the wind she could hear blowing past the building and hung in his eyes, making her fingers itch to brush back the strands.

  Apparently he’d decided to surprise her this morning.

  She had to admit that seeing him sent her emotions into a riot. Butterflies tumbled in her stomach, a sense of sheer joy and a touch of desire flooded her first. Then came the nerves and that certain something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name let alone face. She’d wanted the morning to prepare herself for being with him again, because she couldn’t forget leaving him in this exact spot the night before.

  She drew her brows together. “I thought we agreed to meet at your place at ten?”

  “I brought breakfast.” He held up the goods to show her. Then his gaze flicked over her, taking in the silken bathrobe she’d donned on her way to the door. His expression fell a moment later. He lowered his arms, his brow puckering. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’ve been awake for a couple of hours.”

  Mainly because she hadn’t been able to sleep, had tossed and turned most of the night.

  Reminding herself why she’d come to New York in the first place, she stepped back and pulled the door open wider. “Today’s your birthday. I’m supposed to be the one surprising you.”

  Sliding past her into the room, Alex didn’t quite react the way she’d anticipated. Instead of witty banter in return, he stopped two steps over the threshold, his expression suddenly somber. “I wanted to see you.” He spoke low, his voice vibrating with an almost vulnerable honesty. Alex hesitated, as if unsure of himself, then took another step forward. So close she could feel the soft warmth of his body and the subtle scent of his aftershave wafted around her. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  She released the door, heard it clicked closed, but her mind kept drawing up the night before.

  Their evening together had thrown her for a loop. It had been…wonderful. They’d walked down to a pizzeria around the corner, where he’d introduced her to authentic New York style pie, as they called it over here. Owned by a small Italian family, the place made everything, from the pepperoni to the mozzarella cheese, from scratch. The pizza had been the most delectable kind she’d ever eaten.

  Afterward, he’d taken her through Central Park. It was a small piece of paradise in an otherwise urban jungle. Thousands of trees, paths to walk through. He’d taken her through the zoo in the center of the park. One of his favorite places, he’d told her, because it had been Hailey’s favorite place. While there, he’d also introduced her to the wonders of fresh Italian Water Ice, which she’d discovered, tasted nothing like the frozen cups in the grocery store.

  When it became dark, they ended up back at his place, watching old movies. Yet another thing she’d never realized they had in common—a love for old black and whites.

  At the end of the night, when she’d been ready to leave, he hadn’t asked her to stay. Instead, he’d walked her back to her hotel room. Standing here in this very spot, he’d kissed her, merely the soft, lingering press of his mouth against hers. Then he went home.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” she finally admitted.

  “I hated leaving you.” His voice was a low murmur between them, a lethal mixture of vulnerable honesty and desire.

  His words made her belly flutter and weakened her knees. The same, overpowering need she’d felt last night rose within her again now. She’d stayed up half the night pondering his kiss, yearning for another one, and wishing she’d been brave enough to invite him in.

  “I would have stayed,” she whispered.

  If only he’d asked. But he hadn’t, and the whole notion left her torn. Brock’s warning as she’d left for the airport yesterday afternoon rang in her head. Don’t take offense if he isn’t happy to see you, Ang.

  She knew coming out here what she would be getting herself into, knew beyond a doubt that this day provided a reminder of a life he still coveted. An emotion burned deep in her belly she didn’t know if she wanted to face. One that nagged at her. It felt remotely like the green-eye monster, which made her sick with guilt. It had to be wrong, on so many levels, to be jealous of a dead woman, but deep down, she couldn’t deny it.

  Someone else had a piece of him she couldn’t touch.

  Alex shook his head, his expression once again sober. “I won’t pretend I don’t want you, Ang. Or that I’m not stupidly happy you’re here. I needed you last night. More than I have words to say. But I told you, my head wasn’t in a good place.”

  He paused, his eyes searched hers, as if looking for something in particular, or perhaps trying to make a decision. After a moment, the tension in his shoulders deflated. “I had plans to go to the cemetery this morning,” he said. “To be honest, I was tempted to ask you to go with me,
but going over there always sends my head spinning into bad places. I wanted to spare you that.”

  For a moment, Angela could only stare at him. Once again, Alex laid himself at her feet. He never seemed to hesitate, simply gave her all of himself, broken bits and all. She found it disconcerting. His quiet admission reminded her—again—that no man in her life had ever done this for her before. No one had ever been so willingly vulnerable or so honest. It scared her. When he set himself out there like that, she had no defense against him.

  She laid a hand against his chest. “I would have gone with you.”

  “I never made it to the cemetery. I found myself in the bakery down the street instead, wondering what you liked to eat for breakfast.” He shrugged a shoulder, as if it were no big deal.

  She took a step closer, slid her hand to his waist. “We can still go, you know.”

  Alex shook his head. “Going there is painful. I don’t want to deal with it today. You’re here. I’d rather spend the day with you.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, twinkling suddenly as he held the bag out to her. “A little birdie told me you liked bagels.”

  Her stomach rumbled in delight. He had her, hook, line, and sinker.

  “Ohhh bagels are my weakness.” She snatched the bag from him, opened the top, and inhaled the delicious, fresh baked aroma. Everything bagels, sprinkled with a mixture of toppings, from poppy and sesame seeds to onions and garlic. “Since I started working at the Diamond, I’ve had to keep my carb intake low. If I don’t, it all goes right to my stomach.”

  He moved past her into the room and set the cup carrier on the small, cherry stained desk that stood along the wall by the windows.