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“And like always, he didn’t get angry. He teased me and said I owed him a date. That’s why he was driving up the next weekend. That Saturday morning, we talked for a few minutes on the phone and he asked what we were having for dinner. I was short with him, gave him a snappish answer because I wanted to get back to work—why were we wasting time talking about that? I told him I loved him before I hung up, but fast, not like I usually did, not like I meant it, and I ended the call before he could say it back. I didn’t realize he was dropping a hint about driving up for dinner.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” was all Jonathan said.
“That was the last time we talked. The police filled in the rest. His overnight bag was in the car; the GPS was programmed to Hollinger. There was a jewelry box in his pocket . . .”
Oh, for fucking fuck’s sake, Jonathan would bet his last dollar—no, his life—that he knew what was in the box.
The heart necklace.
Of any object in that huge fucking haunted house of hers, he had to break the single most precious thing she had left.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Look at me.” He took her face in his hand and stroked her good cheek with his thumb.
“He planned to surprise me, and I hung up on him. If I hadn’t left early, if I hadn’t broken our plans, he wouldn’t have been on that highway that day. Because of what I did, he’s gone. And I never got to say goodbye.”
He held a tissue to her cheek to keep the tears from wetting her bandage and put his other arm under her shoulders to bring her closer. “These things aren’t in our control.”
Now he got why she couldn’t write.
It wasn’t just the loss, but also the suddenness of it and the guilt about the chain of events. “It wasnotyour fault.” He pulled back to look at her. “You have to accept that. You cannot carry something like that. You know he wouldn’t want you to.”
“We didn’t say goodbye. Because I didn’t let us. I’m not sure how to get past that. It’s so cliché, but I wish I could do things over. I wish I had one more chance.”
“He knew how much you loved him. One terse phone call didn’t change that. I remember how you two were when he visited you on the movie set. We all saw how loving you were with each other.” He let go of her shoulders. “Can I tell you something?”
She turned toward him.
“Seeing how in love you two were made me realize what was missing in my marriage. It made me feel lonely and hopeless, like there was no way out, and I knew then, unequivocally, I’d made a big mistake.”
“Gee, what an inspiration.”
“But it was. Your relationship opened my eyes to a problem I hadn’t been able or willing or brave enough to admit. I handled it all wrong—I cheated instead of asking for a divorce—which was spineless, cowardly. But seeing what a marriage could be like between two people who were head over heels in love, even after many years, made me realize what was lacking in mine. Caring and friendship, yes, a lot. But what you and Harris had? Uh-uh. Light years away.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t experience that. It’s wonderful when it happens.”
“I can imagine.”Especially with you. “You two had something truly special. I’m just sorry . . .”
She stopped him with her finger to his lips, as she had their first night together. Time for him to back off.
He wanted to be there for her, to comfort her, whatever that meant. Although it probably, unfortunately, meant no more rough-and-tumble sex.
Or any sex, for that matter. A year—thirteen, fourteen months, whatever—really was nothing. While her publisher and Leigh eyed the calendar like it was time to flip the page, she was only starting the grueling process of rebuilding her life.
If he wanted to be part of it, he would need to give her space and time to work through things however she needed to. He would not ask her how she saw their future. He would not ask her not to go to Octavia’s.
If he held onto their relationship too tightly, she would slip like water through his clenched fist.
Her eyes had closed and soon her neck relaxed against his hand. Her chest slowly rose and fell in sleep. As much as he would miss having sex with her, he would gladly take this in its place.
Maybe over time he would get to witness other intimate moments—how she cocked her head to put on an earring, how she sang in the shower, how she stretched before she got out of bed in the morning.
He pressed his lips lightly to her head, releasing a hint of raspberry scent that made his heart soft and his cock hard, although not necessarily in that order.
It’s a hospital. Have some fucking manners.
* * *
He heldher while she slept, until a new nurse came into the room. He raised a finger to his lips to signal Quinn was sleeping, but his movement woke her. “How are we feeling?” the nurse asked her as she approached the bed.
