“When are you going?”
“Right away,” he said, reaching for the phone. “The interview is tomorrow morning. I have to call Scott now.”
“And I have to…” Figure out what the hell to do with my life—and with my father. “Go see my dad.”
His eyes flashed at that. “Since when do you call him anything but Guy?”
“Since I found out that he had a great tragedy.”
“A miscarriage isn’t exactly like he lost you.”
“But he did lose me.”
Will almost choked. “Because he damn near killed you! And he threatened to kill me.”
“But before you knew that, you forgave him, Will. You took care of him. You worried about him. You valued him. You…” Did she dare say it? Yes. “You loved him.”
He just sighed. “But now I know differently.”
“So you actually stopped loving him?”
“It made me…” He held his head like it was going to explode. “Yeah, I did. Look, we’ll figure it out. We’ll put him somewhere. We’ll make this work, Jocelyn. I don’t want to wa—”
“So you can stop loving someone that easily?” The reality of that made her breathless. “Just because they did one thing you think is wrong? You just walk away?”
“No, I—”
“What if you found out I really did have an affair with Miles Thayer?”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she saw the impact of the question. She didn’t care. She had to know. She had to know what he was made of. Because if he wasn’t who she hoped he was, then he wasn’t worthy of the risk.
When he didn’t answer, she pushed harder. “Would you stop caring about me because I did something that was repugnant to you?”
He swallowed. “I don’t know why you don’t tell the truth.”
She had. To him. Wasn’t that enough? “You know what your problem is, Will?”
“Guess I’m about to, right?”
“It’s all or nothing with you. What did you say you wanted with me? What was the word you used? The word I heard you whisper in the bushes the morning you saw me climbing out of bed in the villa?”
This time his reaction wasn’t imperceptible at all. He drew back, frowning. “What did I say?”
“Everything. You whispered ‘everything,’ just like you did in bed half an hour ago. Just like you told me in my villa. You want everything because you are an all-or-nothing kind of guy. There’s no gray area.”
He crossed his arms and bobbed his head a little, no argument at all. “What the hell’s wrong with that?”
“It scares me,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“Because if you’re willing to walk away from a man you’ve spent a year and a half nurturing because you found out something he did fifteen years ago, then…” Wasn’t it obvious? Did she have to spell it out for him? She looked at him, her bottom lip trapped under her front teeth as she bit down to keep the emotion at bay. “An all-or-nothing man is the worst possible kind for a woman who was raised in a house built on fear.”
“Jocelyn.” He came closer, holding out his hands. “I would never hurt you.”
She just stared at him. “But what if I did something to hurt you? Could you stop loving me that easily?” Like somehow managed not to mention that he’d just taken her virginity?
His expression changed as the wheels turned. “Did you? Is that what you were trying to tell me before?”
Her fingers dug a little deeper into the old comforter, words trapped in her chest.
“Did you sleep with Miles Thayer?” he asked, a hitch in his voice. “Did you have an affair with your client’s husband?”
The words cracked with the same impact as her father’s ring against her tooth, making her run her tongue along the old familiar chip. “Is that what you think I mean?” she asked.
“Well, did you?” he demanded. “Is that why you don’t just get out there and deny it, hiding behind some code of professional ethics instead of defending yourself?”
Oh. She couldn’t take this. Looking down, she blinked at the watery Dodgers logo that now mocked her with comfort.
“Will. I need to get dressed. Why don’t you go downstairs and call your agent and…” Go follow your Dodger dreams. “I’ll say good-bye before you leave.”
“Jocelyn.” He reached for her, but she backed away, too hurt to let him touch her. On a frustrated exhale, he dropped his hand.
“Just go, Will.”
All the color drained from his face as he stared at her, processing what he assumed was the truth. Let him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the truth.
What mattered was that he thought it was true and, well, with an all-or-nothing kind of guy, that left her with nothing.
Nothing except a father who really needed her.
Jocelyn washed up in Will’s bathroom, collected herself, and made a very short mental to-do list. On it was one thing: forgive. Maybe the joy of doing that would ease the ache of Will’s obvious doubts about her and hers about him.
She didn’t stop downstairs on the way out, but slipped out the back door and crossed their yards. But before she went in to see Guy, she walked around the front—and froze midstep when something flashed in the distance. Like glass catching the sunlight.
Like a camera lens.
She dodged behind the protection of the house, crouching down behind a hedge to see a car drive slowly down Sea Breeze, the back window partially open, a telephoto lens sticking out of the back.
When the car was out of sight, she ran into the garage and slammed the button to close the door. Damn it. They’d found her. She had to get Guy out of here and up to Barefoot Bay, where they’d be safe. Clay wouldn’t let anyone on Casa Blanca property and they could wait this out up there.
But for how long? How long until she was yesterday’s news? How long until people forgot? Will certainly hadn’t forgotten.
The thought plagued her as she pulled herself back up to the loft and bent over to creep back to the box they’d opened.
She scooped up as many of the clothes as she could hold, and the baby book with Guy’s poem tucked inside. Maybe she’d very carefully get him to look at this; maybe it would jog a memory.
On her way back down, she scanned the garage for an empty box. Just inside the garage door she saw the perfect-sized carton with newspaper lying on top. That’d work, she thought, carrying the clothes to it.
And, once again, she stopped cold.
This time it wasn’t the camera, but the headlines that sucker-punched. Headlines that Will had been reading while he packed.
Miles Misses His Life… Coach!
She blinked at the words, a little dizzy at the mental image of Will holding this paper, reading these words and letting the seeds of those ugly lies take root in his heart.
It made her dizzier still to think that the next thing he’d done was sleep with her and not say he loved her when she’d confessed those feelings.
Thank God she hadn’t confessed everything.
But would he have even believed her? Maybe if she’d told him he was her first, she’d never have had to see that shadow of doubt in his eyes.
Because that shadow hurt.
Leaning closer, she tortured herself even more by reading the first line of the story.
Refusing to reveal the whereabouts of his mistress, Miles Thayer…
She closed her eyes, and a few of the baby clothes fluttered to the garage floor. A part of her newly forgiving heart wanted to run back across the grass, risk the reporters, and scream the truth to Will.
But she shouldn’t have to, she thought as she stooped over to gather up the tiny sleeper and bootie. He should believe her. If he wanted everything, didn’t that include trust?
Ignoring the carton, she clutched the clothes, fumbled with the knob, and let herself inside. “Guy?”
When he didn’t answer, she headed straight down the hall to the bedrooms.
“Guy, ar
e you back here?”
She heard something thud in the closet, the sudden scrape of hangers over the bar, then the door popped open and he stepped out.
“Have you been crying?” she asked, dropping the whole armload of stuff on the bed to reach for him. “What’s wrong?”
“Missy.” He came right into her arms and embraced her, sending a strange set of chills all over her body. “There you are.”
“What were you doing in there, Guy?” Her heart sort of rolled around and swelled up all at the same time.
“I was missing someone.” He leaned back. “I forget her name.”
She patted his shoulder, the gesture awkward but somehow natural. She’d have to get used to that feeling now. “It’s okay. I’m here now and guess what we’re going to do?”
“Pack and start pricing things for the yard sale?” His gray eyes lit up and his brows rose high into his crinkly forehead.
“Better. We’re going on a trip.”
His smile wavered. “Where you putting me, Missy?”
Oh, Lord. She almost had put him somewhere. She still could. Her gaze drifted to the baby clothes. No, she couldn’t.
“I’m just taking you to a very nice villa for a little bit,” she said. “It’s a safe little house and I’ll be right up the road at my friend’s house.”
“Oh, I know what this is!” He clapped like a little kid. “This is the part when you send the people away to a fancy hotel so they can swim and make a plan for how they’re going to change their life and live in a Clean House!” He shouted the last two words like an ad for the TV show.
“Kind of, yeah.” That was actually a perfect way to get him out of here. And with that car circling outside, they had to move quickly.
“But we’re not finished yet,” he said. “Don’t I get to be here for the yard sale to see how much money it made and how you’re going to match it?”
God, was there no aspect of that show he didn’t have memorized? “We’ll come back for that,” she assured him. “But let’s pack up some clothes for a few days away.”
He looked at the pile of blue-and-white baby clothes. “What’s all that stuff?”
Now wasn’t the time to walk through his shrouded memories. “Just some things I found that I want to give to my friend who’s having a baby. I’ll go put all of that in some bags and you find a suitcase.” She gestured toward the closet. “You want me to help you?”
“No!” he said quickly, moving to block her from the closet. “You go.” He flicked his hand. “Find your bag and I’ll take care of mine.”
“Okay. But hurry.”
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
“Um, the cameras are going to be here soon. You’re not ready for—”
“The big reveal!” He beamed at her again. “I know this game, Missy.”
“You certainly do.” She lifted her arms, almost reaching for him, and then she froze. It would be a long time before hugging him came naturally.
But it did for him. He stepped into her arms and patted her back softly. “You’re a funny one, Missy.”
Wasn’t she, though?
“What was your real name again?”
She swallowed. “Jocelyn.” With a deep, steadying breath, she added: “Bloom. Jocelyn Bloom.”
She could have sworn he stiffened a little, then relaxed. “You’re a good girl, Jocelyn.”
“And you’re a good man… Guy.”
In the distance she heard a car door slam, making her jump away. “Hurry up, now. Pack. I’ll be right back.”
Hustling down the hall, she went right to the front door, carefully peering out to the driveway.
No strange cars, just hers and—
Will was standing next to her car, on the passenger side, looking at something. She couldn’t see from this angle, so she walked around to the dining-room window and carefully separated the blinds, giving her a perfect shot of him in the driveway.
He was looking at her phone; she’d left it in the console when she’d gotten out to say hello to him.
What was he doing? Searching for texts from Miles Thayer?
The thought was like a sharp spike across her heart.
Carrying the phone, he rounded the car and headed toward the front door. On the way, he slowed his step and turned as a car came down the street. The same car, with the same telephoto lens.
The driver’s window rolled down. “Hey, is Jocelyn Bloom in there?”
Will ignored them, marching to the front door and unlocking it before letting himself inside. She was waiting when he walked in.
He searched her face for a moment, then said, “They’ve been out there for a while.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m taking Guy up to Barefoot Bay.”
He held out her phone. “You left this in your car.” His eyes were wary, cold even. She took it from him, careful not to touch his hands and suffer the electrical shock. “I thought I’d get it so those assholes circling the house didn’t try to steal it from you.”
“Thanks.”
“William!” Guy came bounding out of the hallway. “Look what Missy found! All your old baby clothes.”
Will shot her a dark look, but she interceded instantly. “Those are for my friend Lacey, Guy.” She reached to take the bundle from him. “They don’t belong to Will.”
“But they did.” Guy managed to hold on to one little sleeper, waving it up like a baby-blue flag. “Can’t believe you were ever this small, son.”
“They’re not mine, Guy.”
“Then whose are they?” Guy asked, looking from one to the other, bewildered.
Neither said a word.
“They belong to a baby who’s no longer around,” Jocelyn said gently, taking the sleeper from him and putting a hand on his back. “Come on, Guy. You have to focus. We need to leave quickly.”
He turned to look at Will. “This is the part where I go to the fancy hotel. You know, William? In the show? They always send the people off to a nice place. Will you be there?”
“He’s going to California,” Jocelyn said, hating the ice in her voice but making no effort to warm it.
Guy froze, his eyes wide with horror. “What?”
“Just for a day,” Will said quickly. “You’ll be with Jocelyn.”
That calmed him and he let her lead him back down the hall. “When are you leaving?” Guy called out.
“Well,” he said. “I was going to leave now, but…”
Jocelyn turned to look at him. “But what?”
“I don’t want to go with…” He pointed toward the street.
She gave Guy a nudge ahead then returned to the dining room. “I have this covered. We’ll be at Casa Blanca and Clay won’t let anyone on that property.”
“I’ll follow you to Barefoot Bay and make sure—”
“No!” She hadn’t meant for it to come out like a bark. “Just do me a huge favor and go.”
“I am,” he said with sharp simplicity. “I am going to California, Jocelyn, and I’ll tell you why.”
“I know why.”
“No, you don’t.” He leaned a little closer, smelling fresh, like he’d just taken a shower. And washed off her and her admissions of love. “You think you know everything. You think you can control everything. You think—”
“I get the idea.” She waved him to the door. “I don’t know anything, Will. I was certainly wrong about you.”
He looked hard at her, brows drawn over pained eyes. “And I was wrong about you.”
Ouch. She swallowed, closing her eyes to keep from reacting. “Do me a favor, Will. On your way out, pull my car into the garage, and then tell those reporters that you’re going to pick me up at the airport. Let them follow you there as a decoy.”
“You think they’ll fall for that?”
“Yes, if you’re convincing. Will you do that for me?”
“Actually, I’ll do a lot more than that for you.”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “That�
��ll be all I need. That’ll be enough.”
“All right,” he agreed. “Do this your way. But I just want you to know one thing.” He took her chin in his hand, holding too tight for her to wrench away, forcing her eyes onto him. “I know what I did wrong all those years ago. I know what I should have done and didn’t do. And now I know the consequences of that decision and”—he worked hard to keep his voice from cracking, the effort appearing more painful than if he’d actually cried—“I’m going to make that up to you.”
By demanding she go back to California? By believing gossip rags and not her? “You don’t have to,” she managed to say.
“But I’m going to. I’m going to do what I should have done back then.”
He should have gone to California to chase his father’s dreams of wearing Dodger blue? But she didn’t have the heart to say that to him because, deep inside, she still loved Will Palmer. She always had and she always would.
But love wasn’t enough. There had to be trust, too.
“Good luck to you, then, Will. Hope you find what you’re looking for in California.”
He rubbed his cheek, still unshaven, nodding to her. “I will. And I won’t come back until I do.”
Then I’ll miss you. “Good-bye.”
He went through the garage and pulled in the Toyota, closing the door. Then she saw him head out to the street to talk to the driver of the car with the photographer. After a few minutes, Will pulled out of his driveway and the media followed his truck.
Jocelyn just leaned against the window and, like she had so many times in this house, she cried because she only wanted one man to love her, and he didn’t.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Just as Jocelyn pulled out to the empty street, Guy grabbed her arm with a sudden whimper.
“I forgot something!”
“What?”
“I…” He pressed his hands to his temples so hard he made dents. “I can’t remember, darn it.”
She looked up and down the street, expecting more reporters to jump out of the bushes at any time. “Whatever you forgot, I can come back and get it.” Or someone could. “You need to stop worrying and relax.”
He looked like he didn’t know the meaning of “relax,” leaning forward like he was about to jump out and run. “William is gone,” he said. “That’s what I forgot.”
Meet Me in Barefoot Bay Page 59
