Authors: Erin Nicholas
But she was having a baby.
Things weren’t about her anymore.
She was going to prove to everyone—to herself—that she wasn’t entirely selfish and foolish. She was going to do the right thing for this child, no matter what it meant for her. Going home where Kat could help her, where her child would have a grandparent, where the crime rate was zero and the educational system was superb, was the right thing to do. In Justice her son or daughter could ride his or her bike up and down the sidewalks without worrying about traffic, could play at the park without fear of strangers and could trick-or-treat without concern over what was in the candy.
He or she could have Sabrina’s childhood.
With one important difference—there would be unconditional parental love, reinforced daily.
She heard Marc shift in the bed closest to the window. There had been one room, but two beds. Which helped. Some.
“Marc?” she whispered, not sure if he was sleeping but hoping he wasn’t.
“Hmm?”
“Are there any jobs open in Justice?”
She heard him shift again. She wondered briefly what he was sleeping in. He hadn’t exactly packed a bag for this trip. But she quickly stopped those thoughts. She’d been serious earlier when pointing out that sleeping together would complicate living in the same town. To say the least.
“Jobs like what?”
“Anything. I need to find something.”
He yawned. Then said, “Nope. Nothing. Everything’s completely full.”
She rolled her eyes in the dark. He didn’t want her back in Justice but that was pathetic.
“Guess I’ll have to look into the stripper thing after all.”
“There are a couple of good street corners,” he said. “You could probably start your own business.”
“Lemonade stands pay well in Justice?”
He chuckled softly. “If
lemonade
is the west coast term for hooker, then sure.”
She smiled. “Maybe I’ll go for mistress. Who’s the richest guy in town?”
Marc said nothing for a moment. “Luke and I are doing pretty well.”
She turned to her side so she could face his bed. “Wow. Seriously? You guys are the richest? I should have been nicer to you before this.”
It wouldn’t surprise her if they were doing that well. The Camelot was amazing and they were both hometown boys, well-liked and respected. It was the perfect set up for success.
It also didn’t surprise her that her heart kicked up a bit thinking about becoming Marc’s mistress. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it.
“Don’t know if we’ve passed Mr. Jensen yet,” Marc replied.
Carl Jensen, the bank President, was at least sixty. “Mrs. Jensen taught me piano lessons. I can’t do that to her.”
“That’s the disadvantage to trying to set up business in your hometown I guess,” he said.
“Another argument for your side.”
“Right. You’d be a great mistress, but you better expand the radius.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
They were quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “You’re as crazy about Justice as Luke is aren’t you?”
He shifted again in the dark. “I love Justice. It’s home. My family and friends are there. The lifestyle in Justice is something I appreciate. But no, I don’t love it as much as Luke does.”
She didn’t think anyone did. Even her father. He loved it, but more because of who he was there. Luke sincerely loved the town and everything about it. “For Luke The Camelot is about being an important part of the town,” she said. “Making a place where the town can get together and have fun. And something to draw people in from other places.”
“Yeah,” Marc said quietly. “He dreamed up the restaurant when we were sophomores in high school. He loves that it’s something special in town and something special about the town.”
“How about you?” She’d wanted to love Justice—or anyplace—like that. She had never felt that tied or rooted anywhere.
“It’s going to sound corny.”
She smiled. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He gave a big sigh and the mattress creaked as he moved again. “For me it’s about taking something that’s ordinary—food, eating, a basic meal—something everyone needs and has every day, but making it even more than they expect. Making it special.”
She wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. This was a side to Marc she’d never seen and hadn’t even imagined. “That’s why you wanted to be a chef?”
“It fit. I wanted to be in business in Justice with Luke. The restaurant was his idea, but being a chef fit, the business and me.”
He was quite for a few seconds and Sabrina sensed that she didn’t want to interrupt or she’d miss something big.
Finally he said, “It’s what the Hamiltons did for me.”
She had to swallow hard. Still she said nothing, hoping he’d go on.
“They took me in but they did so much more than give me the basics. It wasn’t just a roof over my head or food on the table. It was that, plus love and acceptance and laughter and…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “They gave me everything and they didn’t have to give me anything.”
She was choked up. By Marc. Oh, boy.
“Hope you can see why I’m not going to let you hurt Luke again. It would hurt everyone else too. And I will do whatever I can to keep that family from having any heartache.”
Crap. He really meant it.
Marc cursed under his breath.
“I have a good reason for not being able to tell him I don’t want him,” she said.
She didn’t know why but it was important to her that Marc not think she was a heartless bitch. Which she was quite sure he did. Understandably. She’d started the whole thing. She’d wondered so many times if she hadn’t asked Luke to kiss her if that ring would have stayed safely in his pocket—forever.
She didn’t think Marc was going to answer and wondered if she should go on.
Finally he asked, “What reason?”
“Do you care?”
He didn’t make a sound and she would have thought he was trying to think of a polite way of saying no, but this was Marc—he’d never hesitated to say negative things to her.
“It’s the damnedest thing,” he finally said. “But I think I do care.”
“Because of Luke?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Sure, let’s say it’s because of Luke.”
She smiled. She liked Marc. Wow.
Of course, she’d never spent this much time with him before and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been stuck alone together before if they would have ended up as friends. Or more.
She stopped that train of thought immediately.
It wouldn’t have mattered. She hadn’t seriously dated anyone, knowing her plan was to see the country with only her guitar as company. She’d adamantly avoided anyone she thought she could be serious with because that would have made it more difficult to leave.
Marc could have been a serious one. Surprisingly. So she never would have dated him.
“My dad grew up in Justice,” she started. “But he was always wild—getting into trouble, causing problems. The high point was in his early twenties when he and a buddy burned down a barn. He was arrested for arson and spent five years in prison.”
“I had no idea.”
“Nobody talks about it. I didn’t know for years. When he got out my mom didn’t want to come back to Justice but he convinced her that it was his chance to prove he was a new man. And the town let him start over.”
“Yeah,” Marc said gruffly. “I know how second chances feel.”
Dang. Sabrina’s heart tripped. He was funny and even kind of sweet, but if Marc had vulnerabilities it was really going to throw her. He was going to keep reminding her that he wasn’t going to let anything bad—including her—happen to Luke and his family but she knew there was absolute truth behind everything he said.
“After that, he was determined to be the perfect guy,” she continued. “He wanted to contribute to the town, be an upstanding citizen. And raise the perfect daughter.” She took a deep breath. She’d often wondered if she’d known about her dad’s past if she would have understood him better and understood the pressure he put on her. “He pushed me into everything he thought Justice would see as a sign that he was doing a good job. But I didn’t care about being Homecoming Queen or being on student council. Girl Scouts were boring for me, I sucked at sports, I didn’t care about committees and community service.”
“You and your dad argued?”
“Outright fought. A lot. Until Luke got involved.”
Sabrina heard Marc breathe deep and wished she could see his face.
“How did Luke get involved exactly?”
Luke had become her hero one morning when she was thirteen. “One night Luke found me in his tree house crying. Dad and I had fought about him signing me up for a four-day project rebuilding this tiny country church that had been hit by a tornado. It was a nice project, don’t get me wrong, but I had zero interest. Dad was going to force me to go with him and I was way more upset about the fact that he didn’t care how I felt or giving me a choice than I was about going.”
“What’d Luke do?”
“He told me not to worry about it and helped me sneak back in my window. Then the next morning he came over, told my dad he heard about the project and asked if he could go.”
“He took your place?”
“From then on. Everything my dad wanted to do, Luke did. When Dad was mad at me about something, Luke would come over and distract him by asking for help fixing something or for advice. If my dad was getting upset about me not doing something, Luke would do it instead.”
“I always wondered why Luke spent so much time at your house before your boobs developed.”
She appreciated him lightening the moment. “That’s the funny thing. He volunteered for that building project to get Dad to leave me alone, but he had a great time. They camped out at the build site and Dad taught him to build a campfire and all that stuff. Luke ate it up. You know that his dad was gone all the time with business and this was some major male bonding.”
“He always really enjoyed the stuff he did with your dad.”
“Yeah. In fact, Luke quickly became my dad’s biggest fan.”
“Meaning he agreed with everything your dad thought?”
“Pretty much. Dad was off my back since he had Luke, but slowly Luke started trying to talk me into things like getting more involved at school, going on trips with them…”
“Giving up your music.”
She swallowed hard. “Yeah. That and being content with a life in Justice. As we got older he got more insistent. He was almost worse than my dad.”
“And when you moved back with us after college he thought you’d made your choice.”
She, Luke, Marc and Kat had rented a U-Haul and moved back to Justice together that summer after college. Kat went on to medical school in September and construction on the restaurant had been completed in October. Sabrina had left town on October twelfth.
Her throat grew tight. “I know.” She could feel the tension from Marc. She took a deep breath. “It’s the only thing Luke’s ever wanted from me.”
“You regret not staying? Not saying yes?” He sounded angry.
“I just… He’s never asked me for anything. Except to be with him.”
“And you think you owe him something?”
“I do owe him.”
“Son of a bitch.”
She jumped, then heard and saw the shadow of Marc shift to sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You like to keep him hanging on because you like being important to him,” he accused. “Not because you feel some debt to him.”
“Of course I like being important to him! He’s a great guy. Being important to him is a compliment.”
It meant she wasn’t a total loss. She had redeeming qualities for a guy like Luke to care. He’d seen her selfish, rebellious moments, the moments when her own father didn’t like her and he’d wanted her anyway. That had felt good. It still did.
“After all he did for me, after all he meant to me… If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to say no to him.”
“Fuck,” Marc muttered.
She heard the mattress squeak and felt more than saw him stand.
“I’m going out.”
“Now?” Clothes rustled and she heard what sounded like a knee against a chair followed by an expletive.
“Yes, now. We’re done.”
Then the door opened and shut and she was alone.
Pregnant and alone. Again.
Oh, and pathetic. She couldn’t forget pathetic.
“Okay, Seattle, let’s go.” He smacked her butt as he walked by the bed. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
Sabrina rolled to her back and blinked. It was morning already? No way.
She was equally surprised that she’d slept at all.
He rushed her through showering and getting dressed simply by being a damned nuisance and nagging her incessantly. Forty minutes later they were walking through the sliding glass doors of the Laramie airport.
“This is a waste of time,” she said for the third time as Marc strode ahead of her a good ten feet, her bag in tow.
“You’re getting on a plane.”
She glanced at the monitor listing departures. Sixty minutes from now she could be on a plane that would take her to Nashville.
But no. She had to resist. The plane ticket to Nashville was the new umbrella drink in her life. It wasn’t the problem in and of itself—the problem was what it would allow her to do. Like make bad decisions, indulge, and forget that she knew better.
No. She was sticking with her plan. The more she wanted something, the harder she was going to resist.
“I’m not getting on a plane.” She felt that she’d said it as resolutely as she possibly could.
“You know it’s a good idea.”
It probably was, from his perspective. But his perspective was minus one important piece of information—the baby.
“Marc, I’m going to Justice. At least for a while.”
He glanced down at his BlackBerry, then up at the departures. “Eleven twenty-five. You’ll be in Seattle by five twenty-five.” He started for the ticket counter.
“I’m not going back to Seattle.” That much was for sure.
He stopped, sighed and turned back. “Fine. How about New York?”
“No.”
“San Antonio. Gorgeous city.”
“No.” She crossed her arms and watched him. She could do this all day.
“Kansas City. Still closer to home but…”