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“Great,” she whisp
ered, lowering her forehead to her knees.
How had everything gone so wrong? One minute they’d been laughing and loving, the next she’d driven him away with her questions and her tears. Tears, for God’s sake. It must’ve been a hormonal thing, because she absolutely did not cry. Especially not because she’d suddenly realized the biggest reason this would never work between them long-term, if she even wanted that.
He wanted children. Brad was that guy. The kind that would screw his way through town—okay, that wasn’t as certain now—before settling down with his cute wife and passel of cute kids, each of them with his blond hair and blue-gray eyes. The perfect little family.
And that absolutely did not include an aging, past-her-prime wife who couldn’t even have those kids if she wanted to, which she’d given up on ever happening years ago.
Once she’d had those goals in mind. The husband, the kids, the dog. Her family had been boringly traditional, and she’d assumed she would settle down and live the same kind of life. Then she’d discovered her love of animals, birds in particular, and her dreams of falling in love had taken a back seat to getting her doctorate and a good job. By the time she’d dusted them off the shelf, all the decent, family-focused guys were off the market. Or so it had seemed. It had taken almost getting engaged to Mr. Incredibly Wrong for her to see exactly how far astray she’d wandered.
Coming here and meeting Kim had felt like a rebirth. She hadn’t merely shed her old life; she’d become a new Sara. She’d sowed her wild oats repeatedly and happily and thoughts of what might have been rarely entered the picture.
Until now.
Now she felt every day of her forty-two years, three months and nine days. Soon she’d be counting minutes off too.
She didn’t need kids or a husband to be content. She’d proven that. But what if she needed Brad, and he needed more than she could give him?
After a few moments, she turned off the jets and sat in the cooling water. Her skin had shriveled and turned pruny long ago. Her heart was about to follow suit.
This wasn’t anything but a fling. She’d understood that from their first kiss. She’d planned to lie to Kim long enough to get him out of her system, then she’d go back to her life of birds and work, with the occasional dalliance mixed in for distractionary purposes. So what if distractionary wasn’t a real word. It felt right.
As did getting up and going to talk to Brad, instead of sitting and pouting in cold water.
She rose and dried off with the towel she’d brought into the bathroom. A quick check of her hair in the mirror told her it wasn’t too tangled. Her looks weren’t her priority at the moment anyhow.
Her friend was. Above all, Brad O’Halloran was her friend. And it was past time she started treating him that way.
She wrapped her towel around herself and fluffed her hair, stalling for another full minute before she forced herself over the threshold of his darkened bedroom. He lay on the bed, still naked. The moonlight did intriguing things to the long, lean lines of his body, and she had to swallow hard to keep from tackling him.
“Do you want a towel?” She hated that she sounded tremulous, but he did that to her. None of her usual rules applied when they were together, and she didn’t know which version of herself would show up in his arms. He brought out sides to her she’d never explored—never even guessed were there. Being with him was addictive, and she didn’t know if she’d have to overdose before she found the strength to get into rehab.
“I’m good. Mostly dry now anyway.” He held up a fistful of sheet. “Bed’s wet though.”
“I can try to dry it—”
“You’re not my maid, Sara. Not my mother.”
As much as she wanted to toss back a retort, she knew now wasn’t the time. She’d been the one who’d pressed him on a subject that was obviously still very sore. “I sure hope not, because I think I’d need counseling after that bath we just took.”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t say anything at all.
Sighing, she crossed the room to him and sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her leg up underneath her. Then she followed instinct and brushed her hand over his soft tufts of damp hair. “I’m sorry, Brad.”
“Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “Me too. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”
“I pushed.”
“You didn’t know. And I—” He swore again.
“What?”
“Part of me wishes I hadn’t told you. Because, fuck it all, I know you’ll use that baby shit as an example of why we’re all wrong. Which is stupid. We’re not trying to have kids. Not getting hitched. What we are is so much simpler than that.”
Much to her utter disgust, her eyes filmed yet again. At least in the darkness he couldn’t see her tears. “I know.”
“Do you? I don’t think so.” He sat up and cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Simpler doesn’t mean less. We’re friends and I trust you, Sara. If all of this ended tomorrow, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.”
