She was less loath to leave the pretty beach town than to face the fact that soon after this trip, Patrick would disappear forever. He’d been in Rome for three weeks now, which was a terribly short time to get to know somebody and fall in love with them, but a terribly long time for an average American vacation. Amy had to face the inescapable truth: It was only a matter of time before Patrick disappeared from her life. Then what?
The prospect of living alone in Rome again, slipping from one crummy job to the next, with nobody to wait for her at home at night, or to hold back her hair when she was sick, seemed horribly bleak now. The most beautiful city in the world had lost its luster in the face of what was to come.
Only a month ago, she would have laughed if anyone had prophesied that she would fall deeply in love with a man she knew little about, and that she would find the thought of being separated from him unbearable, in such a short space of time. The fling had turned into something she didn’t want to let go of.
But she couldn’t do anything about it.
She had fallen in love for real for the first time in her life, and it was inevitable that it would only end in heartbreak.
She needed to distract herself from that prospect, so she grabbed a small bottle of water, went outside, closed the door of the beach house behind her, and sat on the deck to enjoy a last glimpse of the sea. She had barely stretched out her legs when she heard a car nearing.
A few seconds later, Patrick came marching up the steps of the deck.
She smiled and tilted her head back. When she saw his serious expression, her eyebrows shot up. He dropped into the chair next to her.
Sitting up, Amy turned toward him. “Did something happen? You look so worried. Were you in an accident?”
He shook his head and emitted a heavy sigh. “No, I wasn’t in an accident.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she tried to cheer him up. “I was afraid you’d run over a rabbit or cat. I’m glad to hear there were no wildlife casualties.”
Patrick snorted.
“So what happened?”
“A phone call,” he admitted reluctantly. “I turned on my phone at the gas station, and I had about a gazillion new messages.”
“Oh.” Amy swallowed and reached out to put a hand on his arm. “Is something wrong? Something at home? With your family?”
“No, they’re fine,” he reassured her with a weak smile. “It was about work.”
Even though Amy didn’t understand why his office would call him on vacation, she didn’t probe deeper, for his expression was sour enough already. Instead, she forced herself to swallow the bitter feeling in her throat.
His next words, however, made the feeling return with a vengeance, forming a lump in her throat that nearly choked her.
“Amy,” he said. “I need to fly back to New York.”
Her stomach lurched. “Oh.”
He turned toward her, frowning deeply, looking just as despondent as she felt. “Please, say something.”
She let go of his arm, leaned back in the deck chair, and admonished herself not to burst into tears. It was silly, really, when she had been thinking about this scenario only minutes earlier. But then she’d thought they could take their time driving back to Rome, enjoying their time together without hurry, and expect a few more days together before the inevitable came.
She tried to arrange her face into something presentable. “Patrick, what … what do you want me to say?” she croaked. “I knew that you …” She couldn’t go on, fearing her voice would crack if she tried.
“Shit, Amy,” he rasped and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. “I can’t do this.”
She couldn’t even look at him for fear of crying. “Can’t do what?”
“I can’t go and leave you behind.” His hands pressed into hers, his voice betraying the strain he was under. “How is that supposed to work? You’ll be here in Italy, and I’ll be in the States. When would we see each other?”
The lump in her throat was getting bigger, but she forced out a reply. “We wouldn’t.”
“I don’t want that.” His breath came out forced. “And you don’t want that either, do you?”
“Patrick,” she murmured, pressing his hands in return, “of course I don’t want that, but what else can we do?”
When he didn’t reply, she reluctantly raised her head, flinching at the sight of his scowling face. The corners of her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. “Let’s be … honest, okay? It was a summer fling, and—”
“No.” He scooted closer, his knees framing hers. “Maybe it started out as that, but now …” He shook his head with great vehemence.
Amy took a deep breath. “Patrick, we’ve only known each other three weeks,” she reminded him calmly.
“That may be true, but I know I don’t want to spend one more day without you, not a single one.”
“I thought you said you were no romantic.” She sniffled, unable to see clearly anymore, her eyes brimming with the tears that would burst forth any moment now.
“Amy?” he said sternly, ignoring her last remark. “Do you know what would happen if I leave now? We probably wouldn’t see each other again.”
“No need to tell me that.” She wanted to pull her hands from his grip, but he held them tightly. “I know that full well, Patrick.”
“Then why—”
“Then what?” she demanded, gasping for air. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have a solution either! You live in New York City, and I live in Rome. Of course I don’t want you to leave! But what am I supposed to do? Tie you to a chair?”
She had worked herself up to the point that she could hardly breathe, and she turned her head away, because she didn’t want him to see the first tears that spilled from her eyes.
Unfortunately, he was attentive enough to notice she was crying. He took her chin in his hand and gently turned her face back toward his. “You could come to New York with me,” he replied in a calm, suddenly very collected voice.
At first, she was so shocked she could only stare at him, speechless. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she gasped again.
“Amy …”
“What?” she whispered, stunned and confused. “What did you say?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You could come to New York and live with me.”
“Is that a joke?” she croaked, her confusion mounting.
“No. Not at all.” He took a shaky breath. “I want you to come with me, Amy.”
“But … but I can’t!” Her head jerked backward. “Patrick, I can’t just leave my life here and fly to New York with you. W-we’ve known e-each other for three weeks!”
“Didn’t you tell me you loved me?” he asked, his voice tender.
“Yes, of course I did, but …” Amy stopped herself. “I do love you. I really do. But that’s a decision I can’t make so quickly.”
He sighed heavily. “How much time do you think you’d need?”
She was increasingly sure she would faint at any second. “You don’t sound like you have any doubts whatsoever,” she murmured.
Patrick offered her a weak smile. “I had a little time to think it over on the way back from the gas station.”
Even though she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to return his smile. “Patrick, this is serious.”
“I know that.”
She hesitated and cocked her head to one side. “Look … I don’t really know anything about you …”
“That’s not true.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “If I-I come to New York with you,” she spluttered, “I’m making myself dependent on you. I don’t know anyone there, apart from you …”
“You didn’t know anyone in Rome when you came here either.”
“But that was different,” she retorted, blushing.
“In what way?”
She swallowed again, pressed his ha
nd, and forced herself to look him straight in the eye. “Patrick, I’d be with you if I went to New York, alright, but what else would I do?”
He knit his black brows. “Didn’t you tell me New York City has an amazing art scene?”
Amy made a face. “No, you were the one who told me that.”
“It would be a new opportunity.”
She sighed heavily. “But most of all, it would be a great risk.” He gave her a questioning look. “Try seeing it from my perspective,” she went on. “I’d go to New York with you, knowing nobody but you. For starters, I don’t have a job there. Or an apartment. If I moved in with you, I’d be fully dependent on you—without any money of my own. And who knows that we’re not going to split up a month down the line? What would I do then?”
His face didn’t tell her what he was thinking, but Amy could guess he was processing her arguments and would soon come to the same conclusion that she had. No matter how painful it was.
But, instead, something happened that she could never have expected.
Chapter 10
When Amy walked through passport control at John F. Kennedy International Airport, she was still completely beside herself. She felt like a fraud. It wasn’t just the utter exhaustion that stemmed from not really having gotten any sleep the last three days, it was mainly the fact that her passport still said Amy Spencer while she bore a new name. Since yesterday afternoon.
She was Amy Ashcroft now.
Her new husband took her backpack from her, put an arm around her shoulder, and pressed an encouraging kiss to the top of her head.
She was glad she could lean against him, because the excitement, stress, and uncertainty over the next few days all jangled her nerves. The fact that she’d never been to New York City before, yet had just up and moved here, was enough to make her nervous. Of course, she knew she wouldn’t live in the city itself—Patrick lived in Southern Connecticut—but not knowing where exactly she was going, and what Patrick’s house was like, made her palms itchy and sweaty. Not only had she married a man she had known for only three weeks, she was also walking into an utterly incalculable future.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t happy.
She actually felt like bursting with joy and had been feeling that way ever since Patrick put a ring on her finger in front of an Italian registrar. To be more precise, she’d been floating along on cloud nine ever since Patrick had gotten down on one knee on the cracked deck of the Tuscan beach hut and asked her to be his wife. At first she’d thought he was joking, but when she’d looked into his sincere green eyes, Amy had realized he wasn’t kidding at all. How could she have said no? Any rational thought or concern had been wiped away, and she’d just nodded and whispered yes.
She still couldn’t believe what had happened then. Within a few short hours, Patrick had not only managed to acquire all the necessary paperwork, including international certificates of no impediment to marriage for both of them, but he’d also scored an appointment at a registrar’s office for the very next day. And to top it all off, he’d arranged for the wedding not to take place in said office, but in the orange orchard where they’d first met.
In case he ever again tried to tell her he was not a romantic, she now had the ultimate proof that he was a liar!
Granted, there had been no real wedding dress, no cake, no carriage, and definitely no grand reception, but Amy knew in her heart of hearts that no bride could have had a more beautiful wedding. It had been perfect.
After the brief ceremony, they’d barely had two hours to pack Amy’s belongings into boxes before they had to be at the airport. Patrick had arranged for a company to send all Amy’s things to Connecticut—everything that wasn’t in the two suitcases she brought on the flight. Of course, Amy wanted to prepare for the worst, so she didn’t quite expect to see her stuff again and mentally prepared to say goodbye to her paintings.
When she’d looked at the two suitcases Patrick lifted into the trunk of the taxi, she’d almost felt sick. These suitcases contained most of what she owned, but for a few pieces of furniture and her paintings and painting supplies. She was twenty-five years old, and two suitcases was all she amounted to! If Patrick hadn’t been with her, she’d have felt like the loneliest person in the world.
“You didn’t sleep at all on the flight, did you?”
Patrick’s voice broke through her reverie. They were walking toward the baggage claim, and he still had his arm around her shoulders, which helped a little with her nerves.
She looked at him with a weak smile. “Call me a coward, but I’m pretty nervous.”
“Nervous?” His green eyes flashed with concern. “Why would you be nervous, love?”
Amy took a deep breath and grabbed the hand dangling over her shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know,” she teased, “maybe I’m a tad nervous because I got married yesterday and am now about to set foot inside my new home and meet my new husband’s family. That’s a bit much for one day, don’t you think?”
“It’s all going to be okay,” he murmured and pressed her hand in encouragement. “And don’t get all worked up about meeting my family. My mom’s still on vacation herself, Stuart’s at his college, and I’m sure Barbara will be busy. She always is.”
Hoping to distract herself, Amy asked, “What does Barbara do? Didn’t you say she has two small boys? It must be hard juggling parenting and work.”
“You’d think she has the most stressful job in the world, the way she talks about her life,” he replied dryly. “But she actually just organizes charity events.”
“I see,” Amy murmured distractedly, because she had just spied their baggage carousel. It wasn’t rolling yet, which meant they’d have to wait a little while. Her nervousness and exhaustion didn’t agree with that.
She wasn’t exactly a genius in geography, but she was worried that getting to Connecticut would take them several hours on the train. Or maybe they’d have to take a bus. She felt more like lying down on the baggage carousel and falling asleep.
Maybe it was silly, but Patrick’s words had calmed her a little, for she didn’t want to meet his relatives in her current state. She wouldn’t be this anxious if she knew his family at least a little. But as things stood, she was worried what his mother and siblings would have to say about his marrying a stranger on a three-week vacation.
She knew next to nothing about his mom or his brother and sister. What she’d heard about Barbara sounded quite nice, but now it occurred to her that she’d always thought of women who could spend all their time organizing charity things as terrible snobs. Not that she personally knew anyone like that.
She frowned at the thought.
“Finally!” her husband exclaimed as the carousel began moving. “I can’t wait to get home, take a hot shower, and drop into bed.”
“Me neither,” Amy replied, stifling a yawn. “Please don’t tell me we have hours to go. How long is the train ride?”
Patrick shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve ordered a car. Wait here a moment, okay? I’ll go get a trolley for the luggage.”
She was about to say something, but he’d already let go of her hand and walked away. Wrapping her arms around her midriff, she watched him return with two trolleys, her brain still processing what he’d said.
While he stared at the mouth of the carousel, waiting for their luggage to come through, Amy swallowed. “Patrick, what do you mean by car? Did you book us seats on a shuttle?”
“No.”
His monosyllabic answer brought her up short, and suddenly she was got the feeling that he was keeping something crucial from her.
“Did you call a taxi?”
He groaned and raised both hands in a gesture of resignation as he turned toward her. “Darling, there is something I haven’t told you yet. But I don’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”
“Okay,” she whispered, utterly confused and now more than a little anxious. His expression told her he was about to reveal something troubleso
me. Now, after they were married?
He took a step closer and made a face. “The thing is,” he said in a barely audible voice, “my family is sort of … we’re not really strapped for cash.”
Amy didn’t know what to make of that, so she merely frowned. “Okay. That’s, um, wonderful.” It wasn’t exactly the impression she’d gotten from their time together, but wasn’t that good news? Still, his worried expression suggested he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Patrick, I don’t really know what you’re trying to tell me.”
His eyebrows knit together, and he shook his head. “Amy, the Ashcrofts are one of the top ten wealthiest families on the East Coast.”
She gasped. “What?”
“And when work was calling me … It’s because I’m CEO of the family enterprise.”
She felt as if someone had pulled the rug from under her feet. She stared at him. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” she forced out.
“No, Amy, I’m not.” He placed both hands on her shoulders, which suddenly felt as heavy as two bags of cement. “I’m not messing around.”
“You mean … You mean to tell me that … What?” She swallowed. “You told me you’re an accountant!”
“Well, in a way that’s true … kind of.” He tried to appease her with a half-smile that she couldn’t return. “Accounting is part of what I do.”
She took a shaky breath. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie, Amy.” His voice was raspy and pleading.
“We got married yesterday,” she whispered, sounding hurt. “You didn’t mention a word about this!” She scoffed. “An accountant!”
“Is that really so important?” he asked gently. “For richer or poorer…”
“Of course not!” she snapped, resentful. “I don’t care whether you have money, but I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me, especially if you claim it’s not important.”
Her thoughts were a whirl, but his scowl was deepening. “My entire life, everyone I’ve ever met has known that I come from a wealthy family,” he explained bitterly. “In college, there was always some guy seeking me out, trying to be my best friend. Getting to know me for a while before mentioning he didn’t have the cash to fix his car. And there have always been women, throwing themselves at me and gushing about how they long to visit Hawaii and Paris and Thailand, without missing a beat in between.”
Just one kiss (The Ashcrofts Book 1) Page 9
