Touch

by Rose Wulf

  ****

  “What the hell was that?” Geoff grumbled as the vehicle disappeared from sight.

  Sarah pulled in a breath and shook her head. “Someone lost, I assume.” She paused, fighting the urge to turn and look up toward the roof. She’d been standing in almost this exact spot when he’d called for her attention… There’s no use reliving that. “Well, drive safely, then. I’m sure we’ll see you again.” Though she really had no idea why Eric was suddenly socializing with this guy. He didn’t strike her as particularly impressive.

  Geoff nodded, already rounding to the driver’s side of his car. “Yeah, thanks.”

  She watched as he ducked in, slammed the door, and his car roared to life. When he started backing out of the driveway, she turned and let herself back into the house. Whatever was going on between Geoff and her brother-in-law wasn’t enough, apparently, for Eric to show him the courtesy of seeing him off, and so the duty fell to her. Again.

  “Did something happen out there?” Eric asked when she stepped into the den.

  Sarah paused and arched a brow at him. “No, of course not. Why?”

  Eric shrugged and sat back in his chair. “Jacob said he thought he saw headlights pull in, that’s all.”

  “And he was concerned?” Sarah asked carefully.

  “I guess,” Eric replied without looking at her as he rolled his thumb across the screen of his phone.

  Well, it was good of him to show it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Do you really need to go furniture shopping?” Hilary asked skeptically as she followed Angela into the store.

  Angela took a long, deep breath and stubbornly refused to turn around to see her friend’s expression. “Yes. I’ve got a new place and no real furniture of my own to put in it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” Angela argued self-consciously, running her fingertips along a polished wooden dining table. “You were there last night. You saw how sparsely furnished it is.”

  “Oh, I saw.” Hilary moved around Angela and leaned against the back of a plush sofa in order to get Angela’s attention. “But I think there’s more to it than that.”

  Angela paused, swallowed, and reached down to deliberately fiddle with the price tag for the nearest piece of furniture. “Like what?” The truth was there was a lot more to it, but she didn’t want to talk about any of that.

  “This is classic retail therapy,” Hilary said as Angela moved on. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you don’t have a good reason to need to do a little shopping. I’m just saying you’re avoiding the real issue. Or issues.” She turned the final “s” into a drawn-out “z,” just to be sure Angela heard the plural.

  “Even if you were right,” Angela replied, pretending to contemplate an eggplant-colored chair set, “if I were avoiding the real issues, don’t you think I’d deny it?”

  “Ew, no.” Hilary grabbed Angela by the shoulders and turned her in another direction. “You’ll never stop grieving if you spend money on those.”

  Angela laughed and obligingly continued toward something new. “They weren’t that bad!” She’d barely paid them any attention, actually.

  “Oh, they were.” Hilary ran her hand over the dark-teal-colored fabric of a sofa and said, “This, on the other hand, is gorgeous. You could do a lot with this.”

  “It feels nice,” Angela said as she let her fingers dance, “but I don’t think I’m all that into teal.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Hilary asked, feigning insult as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  Angela dismissed her with an absent wave over her shoulder. “Nothing, nothing, it’s just not me.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. Vaughn would look weird on that couch.”

  Angela started, her cheeks flaring crimson, and hissed, “Hilary! I’m not buying furniture based on Vaughn!”

  Hilary turned an arched brow at her. “You’re not?”

  Angela released a dramatic breath and turned to face another dining set. “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh, okay,” Hilary said. “My bad. It’s just … no, never mind, I shouldn’t push.”

  Angela’s lips scrunched to the side and she found herself biting back a question. All of a sudden, she really wanted to know what Hilary meant by that, despite that she really didn’t want to talk about anything more complicated than furniture. She’s baiting me. That had to be it. Hilary was trying a new, and admittedly unusual, conversation tactic. That’s definitely it. “I feel so overwhelmed,” Angela said deliberately. “Should I start with a dining set? Or living room furniture? What about a bed?”

  “Bed,” Hilary replied matter-of-factly. “Start with a bed and design your whole house around it.” She grabbed Angela’s elbow and began tugging her in the direction of the bedroom furniture.

  “How am I supposed to design a house around a bed?” Angela asked, thrown off enough to let Hilary guide her.

  “You’re clever. You’ll figure it out.”

  They reached the bedroom section and Angela migrated toward a nice cherry wood display. And it was completely Hilary’s fault that she couldn’t stop herself from thinking something dark and elegant like that would be more suited to Vaughn. What am I shopping for, again? “There’s just so much to consider,” she mumbled.

  “That’s why you have to take it in pieces,” Hilary advised. She stepped up to Angela’s side again and examined the dresser. “This, for example, is beautiful. Simple and elegant and it pretty much never goes out of style.” She tapped her knuckles along the top. “This is the kind of thing you keep for a lifetime.”

  “Whose?” Angela whispered as her arms fell back to her sides. Hilary made a noise of confusion and turned to face her, so she elaborated. “Whose lifetime?” She swallowed and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Mine? My uncle’s? Yours?” She dragged in a breath and looked away, her gaze falling on the bed a few feet away. “Hilary, what if I … what if I get someone else killed? What if next time it’s you or Vaughn or one of my brothers?”

  “Angela.” Hilary wrapped an arm around Angela’s shoulders and murmured, “What happened really wasn’t your fault. I know you’re not ready to accept that, but it’s the truth.”

  Angela pulled away and moved to sit on the end of the bed. “I feel like accepting that is the easy way out,” she admitted quietly. The lump in her throat expanded as another thought occurred to her. “Just like avoiding Vaughn.” That was exactly what she was doing. She was avoiding Vaughn in order to avoid the conversation she knew they needed to have. And why? What was really so frightening about being in love?

  Hilary sat down beside her and leaned back, bracing herself on her palms. “You’re probably right, at least about Vaughn,” she agreed. “But truly accepting that you aren’t responsible for what happened to Daniel is exactly the opposite. If it were easy, you’d have done it already.” She paused and sat up properly. “Aren’t you finding it easier to feel guilty?”

  Is that—? That was exactly what she was doing. She was wallowing in her own guilt and making excuses for it.

  Angela pulled in an unsteady breath and a light laugh slipped out. “You should consider becoming a therapist, Hilary.”

  “Ah, but then I’d have to charge you for our conversations,” Hilary replied with a grin.

  Angela flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her emotions were still too raw after everything that had happened. But Hilary was right. They were all right.

  I’m so sorry, Uncle Daniel…

  The bed bounced faintly as Hilary collapsed beside her, but the pseudo-silence held.

  Angela had no idea how long they stayed that way, lying side by side on the display mattress and staring silently up at the ceiling while she attempted to find her emotional footing. She didn’t know if it had been minutes or over an hour. She only knew that more than a couple of tears had escaped.

  “This bed is comfortable,” Hilary eventu
ally stated, her tone quiet and calm. “And it’s big enough for two.”

  Swallowing the rest of her tears, Angela let a grin tease her lips. “That’s definitely a requirement. You think I should get it?”

  Hilary sat up again, saying, “Not yet. You know what they say: never fall in love with the first one you try on.”

  This time, a full laugh slipped from her lips as Angela rolled to her feet. “I think that’s a rule for wedding dress shopping, actually.”

  With a shrug, Hilary replied, “I hardly see the difference.”

  Angela turned her attention properly to the task at hand, feeling a little lighter, and led the way around the furniture store once more.

  Later that afternoon, as she swirled a spoon around in her cappuccino, Angela blurted, “Nate says they’re going to name her Danielle.”

  “What?” Hilary asked, lifting her focus from the lunch she’d been eating.

  Setting the spoon back on the napkin, Angela clarified, “Nate and Madison’s baby. They’re naming her Danielle, after Uncle Daniel.”

  Hilary blinked at her for a second before smiling softly. “That’s really sweet.” She poked at the bread on her plate. “But … how do you feel about it?”

  Angela stalled by taking a cautious sip of her drink. Only once the cup was again resting on the table did she say, “It doesn’t really matter how I feel. They’re the parents.”

  “I get that,” Hilary acceded, “but it matters to me. Are you okay with it?”

  This time, her pause was legitimate as she rolled Hilary’s question over in her mind. When she’d first heard the news, she’d burst into tears right on the spot. She instinctively wanted to find a way to disassociate her unborn niece’s name from her late uncle, but she knew that would be next to impossible. “At first,” she admitted quietly, “I was just sad. Sad that they had any reason to name her after another lost relative, sad because I knew I would always think of Daniel if I had a close relative named after him.”

  “But?” Hilary prompted when Angela fell silent again.

  Angela popped a fry into her mouth before replying, “But … I think you’re right. It’s sweet. And it’s something I could see myself doing, if I were the one needing to name a child next, anyway.”

  Hilary nodded, accepting her answer, and returned her attention to her meal. For a few bites, at least. She waited until Angela was again sipping her cappuccino before casually asking, “About baby names—have you picked any out?”

  Angela choked, doing her best not to spit the drink out again, and quickly lowered the cup. “What?” she croaked with wide, watering eyes.

  Grinning mischievously, Hilary said, “I was just wondering. I mean, I am getting married soon. I should start thinking ahead.”

  Eyes narrowing now, Angela replied, “I thought you said you’re waiting like six years?”

  Hilary shrugged and reached for her own drink. “So I like to be prepared.”

  Angela dragged in a breath and looked down at her meal. “Well, I’m not even going to think about that kind of thing until I’m at least married.”

  “If you say so. Has Vaughn asked you yet?”

  “Hilary!”

  ****

  I need to tell her. Then again, Vaughn was well aware that he should have said something when he’d first learned the truth about his heritage. It was just a subject he could never quite broach. The timing was all wrong. Angela was already going through a lot. She needed him to be there for her, not to be increasing her stress load. The only problem was the longer he put it off, the worse that revelation would inevitably go. Today, though, probably wouldn’t be right.

  He released a slow, deliberate breath as he swung into Angela’s driveway. It was Friday morning and, though he had other supposed responsibilities, he’d already bowed out of them. Angela had called him and asked him to keep her company. There was no way he could deny her something so simple. She didn’t know it, but he’d brought her a gift, too.

  “So, this is her new place,” Bruce commented from the passenger seat. “It’s nice. Smaller than I’d pictured, though.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was part of the point,” Vaughn replied as he killed the engine and released his seatbelt. He popped the back lock. “You gonna help me?”

  “Of course,” Bruce assured him with a grin as his seatbelt slid back. “I didn’t come all this way just to drive my car home.” They fell silent as they stood from the car, and as they made their way around, Bruce asked, “Are you ever going to get your Audi back?”

  “Not soon enough,” Vaughn said impatiently. “Grab the box?”

  Bruce nodded and reached for the box of borrowed movies Vaughn had packed while Vaughn grabbed the box containing the actual gift—a brand-new flat-screen TV for Angela’s living room. She didn’t have one of her own yet, after all.

  “What is all that?” Angela asked curiously as she joined them by the car.

  Vaughn looked over at her and grinned. “Housewarming present,” he replied. “I know for a fact you like your movies.”

  Angela laughed lightly and led the way back inside. “You didn’t have to buy me a TV, Vaughn!”

  “You hear that, son?” Bruce joked from behind them. “She doesn’t want it. But that’s okay, it would look great in my office.”

  “Then go get yourself one,” Vaughn replied without missing a beat. He moved to one of the empty walls in Angela’s living room, lowered the box, and looked over to Angela. “I’ll help you set it up if you want.”

  “And Vaughn’s graciously donated my personal movie library,” Bruce added as he set down his own box. “Though I would like them back at some point.”

  “Wow,” Angela mumbled, before lifting a teasing grin to them. “I might be open to joint-custody negotiations. Eventually.”

  Bruce laughed and clapped Vaughn on the shoulder. “Better stay on your toes, son!” He offered them both a wave as he made his way back toward the door. “You two have a good day.”

  A couple of minutes later, Bruce had driven out of sight and the couple was back in the living room, surrounded by boxes and empty floor space.

  Angela gestured toward the boxed television. “You really didn’t have to—”

  Vaughn cut her off with a kiss, waiting until she had curled her fingers into his shirt before he pulled away and teased quietly, “I wanted to, Angie. Is that so bad?”

  She smiled up at him and shook her head. “No, I suppose it isn’t.” She pressed another kiss to his lips and eased back. “How about if I bring down the airbed and we have a lazy movie day or something?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Vaughn agreed with a short nod and twitch of his lips.

  Between the second and third movies, Angela told him the news about Nate and Madison’s baby’s name. She admitted to having been a little confused on how she felt about it at first but claimed she was at least mostly happy about it now. Despite every effort, Vaughn spent most of the third movie dwelling on forbidden, fantastical thoughts. Angela had made a comment during their conversation about wondering if she would be the type to name her children after lost loved ones or not, and it had gotten him thinking. The initial thought had been innocent enough—would he be that type? He really couldn’t say. Then the first unspeakable thought popped up.

  I wonder what Angela will name her children?

  Without even trying, he could perfectly envision four wildly grinning, dark-haired, blue-eyed boys and a younger, laughing, dark-haired, blue-eyed girl. The girl was a mini-Angela, their heritage obvious. They would be happy kids, laughing and getting into harmless trouble as they dealt with having to learn to control their amazing powers. And he knew, in that instant, that those beautiful, happy children weren’t just Angela’s. They were his, too. At least, if he had it his way. He couldn’t imagine having children with anyone else.

  Hell, he couldn’t imagine making a life with anyone else.

  It was easy with Angela, though. Easy to see himself in ten years
—older, wiser, settled—with her at his side. Easy to see the two of them walking through town with a horde of energetic toddlers or each pushing a set of twin strollers. As strange as he thought it should have been, he was wholly ready to admit his entire future was in Angela’s hands. And that was a problem, since she hadn’t responded to his confession and he was pretty damn sure he knew how she’d take the piece of news he hadn’t yet told her.

  But what if she does love me? It was what he wanted, in every way but one. If she loved him and he was right to assume she would go running in the opposite direction when she finally learned the truth, then they would both wind up hurt. He didn’t want that for her. So I need to tell her. Before she falls any deeper.

  ****

  “Thank you for today, Vaughn,” Angela whispered without lifting her head from his shoulder. It was Friday already, and like the amazing boyfriend that he was, he’d opted to ditch his classes to keep her company. There was a part of her that hated herself for being so dependent in the last few days, but mostly, she was just grateful. She’d somehow managed to find someone to keep her company and at least semi-distracted for most of the time.

  Vaughn gave her a squeeze with the arm wrapped around her torso, clicked off the TV, and replied, “You don’t need to thank me. I just wish there was more I could do.”

  Angela smiled and shifted in order to press her lips to his jaw. “Sometimes it’s the little things that count the most, you know.”

  He looked down at her and a grin slowly lifted the corners of his lips. “Yeah? I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  Her smile broadened and she reached up, pulling him to her for a long kiss. In the back of her mind, she’d been telling herself to tell him how she felt that day. But something always came up that made her push the words back for a better moment. Like now, for example, as his tongue stroked the length of hers and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, teasing her sensitive flesh. Now she would much rather continue down this path, and this path led to many enjoyable things but most decidedly not an acceptable confessional moment.