She’d only ever wanted Adam to love her.That’s all.Not want her because she was appropriate, or easily trained, or because he’d felt obligated.She’d wanted to be loved.For herself.Was that wrong?Selfish?Wrapping her arms around her legs, she wished she could disappear.
From her left came the soft crunch of footsteps on the path between the two houses.Jane sat perfectly still, as if her lack of motion would make her invisible.
Adam.She sensed it was him even before he sat next to her and she could smell his after-shave and the unique male essence of his body.
“Go away,” she murmured, refusing to look up.
“I had dinner with Billie,” he said without warning.
Oh, God.Her heart froze in her chest.Had he—
“I didn’t tell her.”
Thank you, she prayed.
“I wanted to,” he said, anger still apparent in his voice.“I was going to blurt it out over the salad.I even thought about kidnapping her and running until you couldn’t find us.”
She turned her head so she could see him.He sat next to her on the steps of her front porch.Two feet separated them.He mimicked her pose—he’d drawn his legs up close to his chest and rested his arms on his knees.
“I couldn’t.”He looked at her then.She saw that she’d been wrong about hearing anger in his voice.It wasn’t rage—it was pain.The loss he’d suffered deepened the lines around his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks.“I don’t give a damn about you, but I couldn’t hurt her.”
“Thank you.”
He looked straight ahead.“Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have any ideas?”
“No.”
“You never planned to tell me.”
“Oh, Adam, I can’t convince you of it, but for what it’s worth, yes, I did want to tell you about Billie.Today, believe it or not.Telling you is one of the reasons I came home.I wanted her to grow up here with a family, like she’d always wanted.But I didn’t know how to say it without risking it all.I was afraid you’d use Billie to get back at me.That you’d hate me so much that you’d punish her.The longer I was gone, the more time passed, the harder it got.”
“I do hate you.”
She forced herself not to cry out.Of course he did.But telling herself that he would and hearing the words were two very different things.He still got to her.She’d been foolish to think she’d escaped that.
“How dare you,” he said.“How dare you assume I would punish an innocent child.”
She stared at her lap.He sounded cold and angry.Worse, he sounded like a stranger.“You have every right to be furious with me,” she said.“Ishouldhave known you’d never do anything like that.”
“Why do you keep agreeing with me?”
“You’re telling the truth.”
“But it makes it damn hard to hold on to the rage.”
“Good.”
He turned toward her.The anger and the bravado were gone.“Damn it, Jane, you hurt me.”
She bowed her head.The tears flowed fast and hot, trickling down her arms and dampening a spot on her skirt.
“Say something,” he demanded.
“I…I can’t.”
