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“Stop.” She backed up a step, frowning. Mark wasn’t all that upset by the reaction. She’d consider all aspects, as he had. A passionate reaction to his proposal would not have been like her. Would not have been the response he’d look for in the woman he’d choose to marry the second time around.
This time he had to get it right. He couldn’t put his daughter—or himself—through a second failure.
“I’m going to ask you something and I want a completely honest answer, no matter how hard it might be to give,” she said.
That sounded ominous, but he was willing to try if it meant that much to her. He nodded.
“I mean it, Mark. I don’t want you sparing my feelings—or your own pride, either, for that matter.”
“Fine.” He reached for her hand. She intertwined her fingers with his.
“When we make love do you think of me?”
“Of course.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Only of me?”
Mark started to say yes, but her eyes demanded complete honesty. And he owed her complete honesty. He looked away.
“Hey.” With a finger on his cheek, she turned his head back to her. “It’s okay.” She was smiling—and she had tears in her eyes. “Because I do it, too,” she admitted.
He wanted to know who else she’d been thinking about. And he would never tell her who had infiltrated his thoughts. It didn’t mean anything. And the other night in his kitchen had been one of those quirky moments when life is askew, when nothing makes sense. An overtired mind getting confused.
“Every single time we’ve made love, Bud’s been there with me,” Susan continued softly. “I’ve been telling myself that’s natural…”
“I’m sure it is.” It was logical.
“You’re the first man I’ve made love to since he died.”
Mark was moved by the confession. “I wish you’d told me.”
She squeezed his hand. “I think the fact that I didn’t is part of all this,” she said.
He still wasn’t sure what “this” was.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore, Mark.”
Everything suddenly changed. He still held her hand, but it was all different.
“Why?” he asked, taking a time-out to analyze what she was saying.
“Because it’s all too practical.” That was the last response he’d expected to hear from her.
“You’ve been talking to Meredith.”
“No.” She smiled gently. “But I probably should have. I expect I could have spared us both several months of trying to make something fit that wasn’t ever going to. K
elsey knew it wasn’t right. Kids always get these things, you know.”
“Of course it could fit! We enjoy each other’s company. We don’t fight. We make…” He’d been about to say “great love,” but then he stopped himself.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life thinking about someone who’s dead when I make love.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and that touched him more than anything else that had come before.
“It’ll pass, Suze,” he said, using his free hand to brush her hair from her forehead.
“I know it will,” she said, sniffling, blinking and smiling. “When I find a man who makes me forget him.”
“What if you never do?”
