Deacon hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” As we wandered into his office, I kissed his cheek. “I know it won’t be exactly the same, but we’ll still be spending the night together.”
He chuckled. “True. Think you might satisfy my curiosity about your panty status?”
I shot him a teasing glance over my shoulder as I headed out to get our food.
“It’s a real possibility. If you play your cards right.”
* * *
At eleven o’clock that night, Ted wasn’t any better. In fact, his respiration had deteriorated to the point that Deacon had him moved to ICU so he could be put on the ventilator. I went upstairs with them and made a point to speak with the respiratory therapist, requesting that they use the acupuncture protocol we’d established.
“I can just see Ted’s face if he wakes up and finds needles sticking into him all over.” Deacon groaned as he dropped onto the small sofa in his office. “God, I’m beat. It feels like I’ve been awake for days.”
“Well, you didn’t get much sleep last night,” I observed. “And while I went home and caught a nap, you’ve been here for . . .” I checked my watch. “Almost sixteen hours at this point.”
“Huh. True.” Deacon patted the space next to him. “Come sit with me?”
“Hmmm.” I pretended to hesitate. “I don’t know. This couch doesn’t necessarily hold a lot of happy memories for me.”
Deacon winced. “Yeah, you got me there. Well, would you give me a chance to redeem myself –and this sofa—tonight? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Acquiescing, I sat down and curled myself against Deacon’s warmth. He lifted his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, drawing me even closer. I took a deep breath and let it out, willing away any bad vibes that might remain from my memories here.
“I never really apologized fully for what happened that night,” Deacon murmured, his lips brushing over my hair. “I know I did in my note, but given that I was also saying good-bye at the same time, I wouldn’t blame you for not finding that a very effective way of saying I was sorry.”
“You didn’t have to apologize for what happened here,” I pointed out. “It was what happened over by your desk that hurt me, Deacon. You accused me of cheating on you—with Noah, of all people.” I heard my own words and realized that in light of what had happened later—when I’d actually dated Noah—maybe I should have been clearer. “Noah on the night his wife was very sick, I mean. I never would have looked at another guy when we were together, Deacon, but I especially wasn’t even thinking about Noah that way—not then. Not when Angela was still alive.”
“I know. I knew it that night, even as I said it. But I was acting out of past hurt. I was assuming that all women were like Laurel, and that was idiotic, because I already knew you are nothing at all like her.”
“What you said made me feel ugly. It hurt so much.” I closed my eyes. “I didn’t have any doubts about myself, but I did wonder what I’d ever done to make you think I was capable of such behavior.”
“You didn’t do anything.” He caressed my arm, drawing small circles on the bare skin there. “It was my insecurity, Em. Nothing at all to do with you. You just happened to be a handy target.” He paused. “I was so frustrated with myself that night—first that I couldn’t figure out how to make Angela better. And then the way I’d snapped at you, when you were only trying to help. And finally, how I reacted when I came back and found you comforting Noah.” I saw his throat work as he swallowed. “I realized the next day how messed up I was. I’d buried myself in building this wing. I believed I could get over my hurt pride from Laurel’s betrayal by pretending that it didn’t happen. But I couldn’t. That’s why I went away.”
“I never asked you if what you found in Slovenia helped you fix all that.” When Deacon had come back to Florida, I’d been too busy being angry at him and bitter about his absence to ask him if he’d accomplished his mission.
“I guess I did, although I didn’t have time to think about it much,” he replied. “But I realized a lot of things while I was there. First, I found out that I want to be in my hometown. This—Harper Springs, St. Agnes—this is my place. I don’t need to travel the world to find my heart’s content.” He rubbed his cheek over the top of my head. “And I figured out that I want more than just my work. I want a life. I want to have time to help Pop on the farm, and eventually, I want to move out there so I can run it with him. This wing is important, but it only works if it doesn’t need me. That year I was away proved that it could. It’s sustainable, even without the great and powerful Deacon Girard.” He smirked down at me.
“Those are all excellent insights.” I rested my head against his chest. “Was that all?”
“No.” He spoke slowly. “I also realized that I’d found an amazing woman and that we’d had a decent start—if you don’t count all the yelling and arguing, that is.” He held me tighter for a moment. “And that if I hadn’t fucked up enough already to send her running to the hills, she was probably worth devoting more time and energy, so I could find out if we could make a life together.”
“Probably?” I pushed away from Deacon to stare at him indignantly. “I wasprobablyworth your time and energy?”
“Okay,definitely,” he amended hastily. “But you have to remember that I assumed by the time I got back, you’d be with someone else. I never expected you to wait for me, Emma. I hoped, yes, but I never expected.”
“Probably,” I huffed, settling back down next to him. “As if.”
“Hey.” He angled my face up toward his. “What happened in Slovenia and after I got home doesn’t matter much anymore. What does matter is that we’re getting another chance, and this time, there’s no doubt at all in my mind.” He kissed me, his lips firm against mine. “You’re worth every bit of time, energy, attention, frustration . . . all of it. And more.”
“Hmmm.” I sighed. “Keep it up, sweet talker. I’m listening.”
Deacon laughed. “I probably shouldn’t talk anymore tonight. I’m so exhausted, I probably won’t make much sense, and I might say something to make you regret . . . us. Last night. Everything.” He yawned then and stretched his neck, pain flashing over his face.
“Here.” I slid to the other end of the sofa and patted my legs. “Lay your head in my lap, and I’ll rub your back until you fall asleep.”
He looked as if he might protest for about half a second before he did as I’d suggested, stretching out and resting his head on me. I feathered my fingers through his hair for a few minutes before I began kneading his shoulders.
