by Peggy Jaeger
“Yes, dear.” Carly lifted her face for a kiss. “Be careful.”
“I will. Promise.”
In a moment, the room had cleared.
“Well,” Tiffany said as she sat back down in the vanity chair. “Alone at last.”
Cole crossed to the vanity, kneeled down and pulled her hands into his. “Tiff, I don’t have a lot of time.”
Sadness slipped through her smile. “I know, but I didn’t have the heart to kick them all out.”
“It’s okay. They were worried about you.”
She stared at him, her heart swelling and breaking at the same time.
Tell him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him you love him. Tell him you don’t want him to go.
Tell him.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Guilt and pride got in the way.
“I didn’t want to leave like this, Tiff. Rushed, with things left unsaid.”
“Nothing needs to be said, Cole. I understand why you’re leaving.” She stared down at their joined hands. One pair so large and strong and yet possessing a gentleness that had torn her soul away, the other small and dainty, shaking as they were gripped.
“Tiff, I need to tell you something before I go.”
“You don’t have to. I know you told Stepman you didn’t want the anchor chair.” She could see the confusion in his eyes. “Mom told me. She thought I already knew.”
“I wanted to tell you myself, but I never had the chance. Staking out the UN all day, you here in rehearsals. Tiffany, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to hear it from someone else.”
“Its okay. I understand why you didn’t take it.”
Brows furrowed, he asked, “Do you? Do you really?”
“You can’t help but love what you do, Cole. I know that. I guess I even understand it because it’s the same way for me with skating. Nothing is more important than a story to you, just like nothing’s as important as skating is to me.”
She dropped her gaze to their joined hands so he wouldn’t see the agony coursing through her.
“That’s what you think?” he asked.
The heat in his voice made her finally look up. She removed her hands from his. “You’re mad at me. Why?”
“You make a statement like that and ask me why I’m mad? Jesus, Tiff.”
Mike opened the door. “Cole, the limo’s waiting. You’d better get going. Flight leaves in less than an hour.”
“I’m coming.”
He rose and looked down at her. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, and his eyes had narrowed, almost obliterating the blue she loved looking at. “We’ll finish this when I get back.”
“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” she said. “You’re the one who gave up the anchor job, who’s all set to fly off again at the drop of a hat. Have I said anything about either of those things? Have I even complained one bit about them?”
“No. No, you haven’t.” His voice was curt and crisp.
“You’re damn right I haven’t, and believe me, it hasn’t been easy.”
She rose from the chair, hands securely sealed to her hips.
“You look like you’re spoiling for a fight, Tiffany, but unfortunately, I can’t accommodate you right now. I have to leave. I’ve got obligations.”
“Of course you do,” she spat. “Unfortunately, I’m not one of them.”
The oath that spewed from Cole’s lips shocked Tiffany to her very core.
He reached out, grabbed her and crushed her body to his. He kissed her wantonly, savagely.
Ferociously, his mouth plundered hers, his tongue probing, diving into places and recesses like a starving man searching for sustenance. He’d never kissed her like this before, and for a fleeting moment Tiffany felt a jolt of fear.
With a fierce shove he pushed back from her. A deep frown masked his face. “We’ll finish this when I come home.” He slammed the door behind him, never looking back at her. The wall mirror rattled at the barrage.
Tiffany leaned against the vanity, hand to her heart, her legs shaking.
Slowly, she slid down to the chair, put her head in her hands, and cried like a baby.
Chapter Twenty-Four
One week turned into two. Then two into three.
Before long, a month passed since Cole had left.
The ice show was a huge success. Tiffany’s picture appeared on the cover of People for the fourth time in her life, and she’d run the gamut of New York morning chat shows. The incidents with Bryan and Jane had been kept out of the public eye, due in part to Mike’s influence with the investigating officer. Both were currently out on bail. Neither of them had tried to contact Tiffany, Sean, or anyone connected to the show since being released.
Tiffany’s life fell into a familiar routine: practice during the day, performance at night. Most evenings she’d eat at home, late after the show, and watch the newscast she’d taped earlier in the evening. Cole was doing nightly broadcasts from Africa, updating what had happened since the peace treaty’s signing. Every morning she’d watch the early news show, SunUp, where he was a daily correspondent.
He photographed well on camera, but Tiffany could see beyond the lens. He looked absolutely ravished by exhaustion. Dark circles the size of suitcases lined under his eyes. His face was ruddy, an effect of being in the sunny, arid climate. And he was gaunt. He’d lost weight, his shirt hanging from his shoulders.
At dinner a week ago with her parents, Mike had told her the network was getting more and more fan mail with Cole’s name attached to it than it ever had for anyone else. He’d become a pop icon over night with his in-depth, intelligent reporting, striking good looks, and easygoing manner.
“The news reporter of the people,” Mike said with pride.
Tiffany tried valiantly to swallow the lump in her throat before finishing her meal.
She’d replayed their final scene together in her mind a million times and could never come up with a reason for his sudden anger. She hadn’t said anything, to her mind, to cause it. And if she had, she certainly couldn’t see it.
He hadn’t called her but she knew how difficult that was to do because of their conflicting schedules and the time zone difference. Instead, Mike had related updates he received from the news bureau, and the three-minute chats they’d been able to have after airing each night. Mike had invited Tiffany to the studio more than once so she could speak with Cole, but she had declined citing obligations to the show. Cole hadn’t emailed her, either.
She missed him. It was pure and simple. She missed him.
She’d grown paler and thinner, too, forcing all her energy into striving to do her best every night. She had a punishing dance practice every morning in the apartment studio to keep her flexible and toned, and a show every night where she performed her grueling spins, jumps, and landings with zeal.
On the way back to her dressing room one night after another sold out performance, Sean said, “You look tired, lass.”
“Do I?” She shrugged. “It’s been a busy few months. Only one more here though. Then we get to tour. I won’t be the only one who’s tired then.”
“We’ll have a week before we leave for Philadelphia. Maybe you want to go up to the farm, rest for a while. Ride that ridiculously large horse of yours.”
Tiffany smiled. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Maybe I will.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing, I’m thinking. Want me to wait for you?”
“No, it’s okay. Mom sends Carlos back every night for me. He knows I usually take about a half hour after the show. Thanks, anyway.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
He gave her cheek a chaste peck.
Tiffany walked down the corridor to her dressing room.
A relaxing week in Carvan sounded great. It brought a smile to her face just thinking about it.
When she opened the dressing room door, the smile vanished.
****
“Great show, Brat,” Cole said, keeping his seat
. A ghost of a smile trailed across his mouth.
He’d traveled all night to see her, hopping a ride on a cargo jet out of Germany and then waiting in Chicago for almost six hours for a connecting flight back to the east coast. He could have come home the conventional way, taken his time, slept. But it would have more than doubled his travel time.
He needed to see her again. Now. Hold her. Tell her everything he hadn’t had a chance to before he’d had to leave.
And here she was standing in front of him, looking pale and tired and just a little confused.
He’d never loved her more.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I didn’t even know you were due back.”
Cole unfolded his legs out in front of him. “There wasn’t much left of the story for me to do. I told Stepman I was done. He said I could come home, so here I am.”
Tiffany remained silent and just continued to stare at him.
“I found that family, the one I knew at the beginning of the war.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I taped your reports every night and then watched them before I went to bed. The mother and the little girl were the only ones left.”
“Yeah. All of the men were killed by the insurgents.”
“It was an incredible piece, Cole. I’m sure it’s going to win all sorts of awards.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. It got me thinking, though, how precious life is. How we can lose everything in a heartbeat.” He stopped and gave into a yawn. “Remember the agent, the one who thought there might be a book in my journals?”
“Yes.”
“She e-mailed me. She already has an interested publisher.”
“So now you can write it.”
“Looks like I can.” He yawned again. “Anything newsworthy that happens now will be covered by someone else.”
“What do you mean? This has been your story from the beginning.”
“Not anymore. I’m finished with it.”
Her eyes widened, but she stayed silent.
“I caught the second half of the show,” he told her. “Your skating’s never been better.”
“Cole.” She crossed to the vanity, sat, and began unlacing her skates. “I want to apologize for what happened before you left. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”
“No, we didn’t. But I’m as much to blame for that as you are, Tiff. I wanted to tell you myself about the anchor position, but I just never had the chance.”
“It’s okay. I understand why you turned it down.”
“You do?” He peered at her. “Really?
“Of course. I told you I know how important your career is to you. The most important thing in your life.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you did. I remember that distinctly.”
Tiffany’s eyes found his. “You’re getting angry with me again. Why?”
“Because of the statement you just made, Tiffany. It doesn’t say very much for me.”
“What? Cole, your career has always been the most important thing in your life, we all know that and accept it. It’s what makes you who you are. Why does my saying it make you so mad?”
“Because it’s not true.”
Anger propelled him up from the love seat; hurt moved him toward her. He knelt down in front of her and he took her hands in his. “I’ll admit I was angry when I left. But I was hurt more.”
“By what?”
“By you thinking I was leaving without any consideration of your feelings. You felt I was going because I wanted to ensure my place at the bureau, to use the story as another notch in my professional belt, right?”
“Now I’m confused. Weren’t you?”
“No. You can’t begin to understand how leaving you made me feel. For the first time in my life I couldn’t have cared less about a story. Couldn’t you see what I felt for you, what I feel for you?”
Tiffany sat rock still, her eyes huge and moist, tearing his soul to pieces.
“I told Stepman I didn’t want the anchor spot because it was limiting and just as time consuming as traveling was. But that was only part of the reason. Before I left I resigned from the news bureau, effective the moment my follow-up was completed.”
Tiffany’s mouth flew open. “Why?”
“Lots of reasons, but the most important of which is I was sick of being away from home. Sick of being away from you. Tiff, remember when I told you in Carvan whenever I thought about home I always thought of you?”
She nodded.
“It was true then and it’s truer now. You’re what’s important to me, not the job. When I had to leave again, I finally realized it. No story is worth leaving you again for. None. Nothing is worth leaving you.”
He tugged her into his arms and devoured her mouth with his own.
All the suppressed hurt and anguish he’d tried to forget about for the past month flew from him. “God, you can’t imagine how much I missed you, missed this, the feel of you, being with you.” Cole skimmed her jaw with his lips. “I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to stand being away from you.”
The sob that broke from her was heart wrenching. With her head resting on his chest, Tiffany confessed, “I haven’t been able to sleep one night through since you’ve been gone. I keep reaching out, needing to feel your body next to mine. I’ve slept in your room, I’ve even put on some of your shirts, just so I could have a little part of you close to me. The other day I even started a pot of coffee when I woke up.”
He pulled her head from his chest and framed her face with his hands. He gazed into her eyes, the green almost incandescent behind the tears lurking there. He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled.
“Maybe one of us better say this straight out. Since I’m older and obviously the more mature of the two of us, I will.”
When she squinted at him, left eyebrow shooting dangerously high, he kissed the delicate line. “I love you, Tiffany. Everything about you. From the way this delicious little brow shoots up when you’re annoyed, to the feverish way you look when I’m inside you.” He laughed and kissed her lips. “And the way you blush when I say something like that. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to. Ever again.”
Two, fat, solitary tears slid down her cheeks.
“I saw families ripped apart by the stupidity of war, destroyed, never able to be with loved ones again. And I felt empty inside because I wasn’t with you. I want you, Tiffany. I need you with me.”
“I’ve loved you since the first day I met you,” she said after a moment. “And I’ve never stopped for one minute since then. I know everyone said it was cute and sweet when I was six and you were fourteen. Puppy love is what Addie called it. I know it’s hard to believe a six-year-old can know what her destiny is, but Cole, I swear, I knew it was you on the first day we met. I’ve never known a second in all this time I didn’t love you, and I never will. I couldn’t because I’d die if I did.”
She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
“Well,” he said, rubbing her back. “There’s only one thing to do now.”
“What?” Her voice was muffled against his jacket.
He removed her arms from his neck and reached into his jacket pocket. “I had this made before I left. I was going to give it to you the night the show opened, but the timing was wrong. Open it.”
With her hands shaking, Tiffany took the small square box from him. “Cole?”
“Open it, Brat.”
She did.
“A diamond would have been way too ordinary for you,” he said removing the ring from the box. “I know how much you’ve always loved this ring, so I figured this would suit you better. Especially since this one’s real.”
Cole placed the huge, sparking sapphire circled with diamonds, a duplicate of the one she wore around her neck, onto her finger.
While the tears danced down her face, Cole held her hand and grinned. “I’m already on my knees, Brat. And I’ll warn you now I want the w
hole shebang. Kids, four a.m. feedings, minivans, braces, and college accounts. Everything. I want to grow old with you, sit on the porch in Carvan and watch our grandkids ride horses and run around like hellions. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms every night and wake up with you every morning. So what do you say? Will you marry me? Will you spend the rest of your life with me? Will you make a future with me? Love me?”
“I want all those things too,” she told him through a sob. “But…”
His mouth pulled into a smile. “Why am I not surprised there’s a but?”
“Can we get an SUV instead of a minivan?” she asked, her head cocked to one side. “They’re way roomier.”
He laughed out loud. All the fatigue and anxiety that had been overwhelming him flew from his system. “Is that a yes?”
She grinned back at him. “Yes. It is and I will. Love you for ever.”
She sealed it with a kiss.
“There is one catch, though.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What catch?”
“While I’m writing this book, I’ve accepted a new job. I start, in fact, in a few days. But don’t worry. I’ll be home every night and every weekend. This is a normal job.”
“Tell me!”
“When I resigned, Stepman offered me the cohost of PROFILES. I took it.”
Tiffany threw her arms around his neck again and squealed.
“It’s perfect. I get to make my own hours, just as long as I’m available for taping once a week. And I can do that anywhere we have an affiliate, so I can travel with you when you go on tour.”
“Are you sure?”
It was his turn to nod. “About everything. But mostly about you. I love you, Brat. I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you.”
Tiffany’s face turned serious. She lifted her chin and gave him the onion-smelling look he loved beyond reason.
“It certainly took you long enough to figure it out,” she said just as his mouth came down to capture hers.
A word about the author...
The Tagline for award-winning author Peggy Jaeger’s website is “Writing is my Oxygen.” She lives in New Hampshire with her family and considers any day a great one as long as she can write.
