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“Yes,” Kathryn says, a note of satisfaction in her drowsy tone. “You know it too. So don’t let her down again. Be good to her, Dominic. Be the man she needs.”
I want to issue some confident promise that Avery will never need anyone but me. That I can somehow, eventually, prove myself deserving of the honor.
But the words don’t come.
I look at Avery and while she grounds me in so many ways, she also holds the power to unravel me. I felt that today, after I nearly ripped open other old scars—ones that can never be sewn shut again once their secrets spill out.
I look at Avery and I feel adrift, in need of her body’s soft anchor and the safe port that I haven’t found anywhere but in her eyes.
I look at her, miraculously back in my life after I was so certain I’d pushed her away forever, and I am drowning in emotions I never knew before I met her.
I feel utterly out of control with the depth of my love for her.
I reach for a suitably reassuring reply to Kathryn’s challenge, but the easy confidence I can usually cloak myself in eludes my grasp. The only thing I find is naked, vulnerable candor.
“I hope I can be what Avery needs.”
Kathryn says nothing. I’m not even sure she heard me. When I glance back at the bed, her eyes are closed and her breath is puffing softly through her parted lips.
Chapter 17
“Okay, Pauline. Thank you for letting me know.” I end the call and set my phone down on the cocktail table in Nick’s living room.
“Everything okay?”
He walks out from the kitchen barefoot, his white shirt still tucked loosely into his belted suit pants but unbuttoned to his chest and rolled up at the sleeves. Clutched in his hand is a cut-crystal tumbler of whisky. We arrived at the penthouse about an hour ago, our plans for a proper date tonight put on the back burner. With Kathryn hospitalized, the last thing on my mind is going out somewhere. I had planned to go home after the hours spent at Kathryn’s bedside, but it didn’t take a lot of convincing for Nick to persuade me to stay the night in the city with him in case her situation worsened.
Fortunately, that worry seems to be abated at least for now.
“They’re moving her out of ICU tonight. Pauline says the doctors want to observe her for a few hours tomorrow, make sure she’s strong enough to go home. There’s a good chance Kathryn will be discharged following the afternoon rounds.”
“Sounds encouraging.”
“I suppose so, all things considered.” I fold my legs under me on the sofa. “Pauline thinks it’s time for Kathryn to start thinking about hospice.”
He doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat beside me, just nods then takes a swig from the crystal glass. “You sure I can’t fix you a drink?”
“No, thank you.” He’s on his second since we came home from the hospital, and this one appears to be a larger pour than the first. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He stares at me as if I just said I wanted to discuss my period. “Talk about it?”
“Kathryn’s cancer. The fact that she’s dying.”
“What more is there to say?”
Although he seems accepting enough on the surface, even calm, I study his face as he tips the glass to his lips again and downs another healthy swallow of liquor. There is a storm of dark emotion behind the shuttered control of his gaze. A world of hurt he’s holding far out of my reach.
“I know your history with Kathryn, Nick. Are you afraid to tell me that you still care about her?”
He swivels a hard, questioning look at me. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t mean romantically. I know that was over a long time ago. I mean, are you okay with the way you and she have left things? What I mean is, are there things you need to resolve with her while you still have the time?”
He drains his glass and sets it down on the table. “We’ve talked.” I’m sure my confusion is evident in my face. Nick leans back on the sofa with a sigh, draping his arm behind me. His fingers toy idly in my hair, his touch soothing me while I wait for him to say more. “You were in the hall with Pauline. Kathryn woke up. We spoke for a few minutes. I don’t know . . . I guess she felt the need for some kind of absolution from me. Closure, maybe.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“I told her there was nothing to forgive. I never hated her, even though I let her believe I did for far too long. She didn’t deserve that.”
