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Parker went back to his keyboard. “Excuse me. I’m trying to write.”
“Fine. Turn your back on me. Stare into that blank screen. Count the ticks of the cursor till hell freezes over, for all I care. Delude yourself into believing that you’re writing. We both know you’re not.”
Parker came back around, angry now. “Obviously you’ve reached a conclusion that you’re just dying to share. So spit it out. Get it out of your system. God knows I won’t have a minute’s peace until you do.”
The older man refused to take umbrage. “I’m not going to fight with you, Parker,” he said evenly. “But yes, I will tell you something you need to hear.” Ignoring Parker’s roll of the eyes, he went on. “You resurrected yourself when, for all practical purposes, your life was over. I was there to help. I needled you and badgered you along. But you did it. It was a heroic effort. You’re to be commended for overcoming incredible obstacles. You beat overwhelming odds. Beyond putting your life back on track, you have thrived.”
“Yea, me.”
The caustic interruption went ignored and Mike doggedly continued. “Your body has healed, but not your soul. The damage done to it was a thousand times worse than the injuries to your legs. Your soul is more twisted than they ever were. Pins and plates hold your bones together, and new skin patches the places where there was no skin left, but your soul hasn’t been mended. It’s still raw and bleeding, and you snarl at anyone who extends a hand to help you heal it.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for years, Mike,” he said sweetly. “I’m a lost cause.”
“You’re not a lost cause, you’re a coward,” Mike shouted angrily. “It takes far less courage to cling to the past than it does to face the future.”
“Very good, Mike. I should write that down. What was it again? ‘It takes far less—’ ”
“Sarcasm? Good. If I’m pissing you off, at least I know I have your attention.” Mike’s lined features softened and turned earnest. “Parker, consign Noah Reed to God. Or to the devil. Let them haggle over who’s to be his judge and what his punishment is to be.
“Then go to Maris. If you can get her to talk to you, lay open your heart. Explain everything. Start at the beginning and tell her all of it. Tell her Noah’s part. Confess yours. She may forgive you. She may not. But either way, you’ll be rid of it. For the first time in fourteen long years, you’ll be free of everything that happened in Key West. You will have saved yourself. Again. And in the only way that really matters.”
Parker’s heart was pounding hard and loudly against his eardrums, but he kept his expression passive. “Good sermon, Mike. Honestly. Very moving. But I’m going to stick to plan A.”
“And throw away a chance to be happy with a woman you love?”
“Love?” he scoffed. “Who said that?”
“You did. Every time you looked at her.”
“Have you been sneak-reading romance novels again? They’re not good for your blood pressure.”
“Okay, be funny. Deny you’re in love with her. You’re only wasting your breath. Maris hit you like those drugs you used to take. The night she came here, you got high on her, and after that you couldn’t get enough. She’s—”
“She’s Noah’s wife.”
Parker felt his control snap like the string on a tennis racket that had been whacked one too many times.
“She is Noah’s ‘dearly beloved, we are gathered here’ bride. That’s the important thing. That’s the only thing,” he yelled, slicing the air with his hand. “Nothing else matters. Not how I feel about her, or how she feels about me, or even how they feel about each other.
“She is Noah Reed’s wife, and I had her. But good. She was finger-fucked, and tongue-fucked, and mind-fucked. By
me!” He pounded his chest with his fist, his eyes shimmering with tears spawned by the white-hot rage that consumed him whenever he thought of Noah’s treachery. And now by the agony of his own guilt.
Mike’s features surrendered to gravity and settled into an aged mask of profound disappointment. “Perhaps you’re right, Parker. Perhaps you are a lost cause. Your cruelty to her goes beyond reprehensible. All you care about is this revenge plot of yours.”
“That’s right. Now you’re catching on.”
“What’s the next chapter?”
“Well, since Maris threw the manuscript at me, I don’t think I can count on her to get it to Noah. So I guess I’ll have to send it to him myself, registered and receipt requested, along with a cover letter saying that Envy is being simultaneously submitted to every publishing house in New York. If that doesn’t give his short-and-curlies a smart tug, then perhaps a postscript about his wife’s talent for giving head will.”
Mike shook his head with disgust. “And then what, Parker?”
“The gripping climax, of course.”
Mike subjected him to a long, hard stare, then turned and picked up two suitcases, which had been left in the kitchen and up till now out of Parker’s sight. “Going somewhere?”
“Away from you. I won’t be a party to this.”
