Bonnie didnt say anything at first, just sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blindly at the brightly patterned wall.
Let me say first that I am sorry, he said quickly, filling the silence. For everything. For all the years, all the heartaches, just like you said. And then, when I found out I was sick, you came when you didnt have to, and I know how hard you tried, and what did I do? I just pushed you away again, I know I did. The girls, too. But Ive thought long and hard about it, Bonnie, and I see the mistakes I made. I dont know why I didnt before, but I do now. Please give me one last chance. Please come back one last time! I swear you wont regret it, I swear on my life you wont.
She sucked in her breath, closed her eyes and squeezed them shut. What was this, the hundredth, maybe thousandth time they had had this conversation? How did he do it time and time again? How did he keep drawing her back in with his promises? But more importantly, how was it possible that after all they had been through, she could still love him so?
Come on, Bon-bon ... what do you say? he asked.
Bonnie opened her eyes. I say no, Aaron. And she hung up before he could draw her in again.
Rebecca emerged a half hour later still a little pale but nonetheless remarkably improved, so Matt decided to call off the funeral after all. Nonetheless, now that he had held her, seen her up close and personal so to speak, he had decided she was too thin. And without the knee-high boots, her very shapely, long legs looked more like bird legs stuck into enormous sneakers. The Stubbs Bar-B-Q T-shirt, which she had tucked into her skirt, swallowed her whole. Probably the result of some stupid beauty queen diet. For the life of him, Matt couldnt figure out why women thought stalag-thin was attractive. Flesh was attractive. Soft, sweet-scented, succulent flesh like her flesh . . . flesh that was now forever seared into his memory, thankyouverymuch.
Hed grabbed a shower, too, and had whipped up some steak sandwiches. Rebecca blanched when he said so, but after her little wine binge last night, Matt wasnt about to let her walk out the door without eating something, and made her sit at the bar and try it.
Rebecca sat. She even ate a little. But she was not the same, dangerously appealing you-owe-me-a-favor Rebecca
that she had been under the considerable influence of alcohol. That sexually repressed Rebecca had knocked his socks off, and truthfully, he couldnt get that unexpected kiss or its wake out of his headthe big head or the small head. In fact, the small one had awakened bright and early, remembering last night with some enthusiasm. What was a guy to do? From the moment she had said four years, every male fiber in him had kicked into testosterone overdrive.
It was funny what a person could make of a single word, a gesture, a look .. . but he knew that she had wanted him last night, had wanted him to end her four-year trek through the desert, and he could have sworn it was more than just a little fun between adults when it was all said and done. In fact, hed felt something extraordinary he had wanted to fall back and lie in that state of grace as long as he could, hold the emotion they had created in his hands. Maybe it was the raw release wrenched from her gut that did it to him. Maybe it was just the honesty of it all. Whatever it was, hed never felt quite that way in his life, and it was a little weird.
Which was probably why hed been so quick to throw in the towel and chalk it up to a Friday night shenanigan. But the moment he said that, shed been so damn relieved, like shed rather die than .. .
Fuck it whatever the reason for her relief, it had annoyed him, and in the shower, he had tried to scrub the taste of her from his lips.
But he just couldnt do it.
Looking at her now, head down, trying to choke down a steak sandwich, he could not believe that of all the women he had ever known in his life (and had lost count of way back there), this wacko ex-beauty queen could unhinge him so completely with one, single, breathtaking question. Her whole body had lit up, had pulsed beneath his hands and his mouth. And that smile of hers, that little smile she had on her face when he was . . . well, doing her. Christ.
At the moment, he was wishing pretty hard that the passionate, free Rebecca would wake up, take a peek outside, say hi, say something . . . but instead of receiving the
message telepathically like he hoped, she pushed her plate aside, leaving the better half of a delicious steak sandwich (even if he did say so himself). Go on, eat it, he said, wolfing down the last of his. You could stand to put on a little weight.
Oh, thanks, Rebecca said, and with a groan, put her head in her hands. Will you please take me to my car now?
Great. Now he felt like some guy she might have picked up at a bar, when, at the same time, he was feeling all warm and fuzzy about her. Sure. Okay. He tossed the dish towel onto the countertop. Just give me a minute, he said, and marched out of the kitchen, to the master bedroom. As he banged around looking for shoes, his mind was racing and he was, incredibly, pissed off. After all, he was the one who was usually doing the morning-after regret thing. And furthermore, she had started it, not him, and she had jumped right in with both feet, lighting up like the University of Texas Tower from the moment he touched her. Hell, hed just hung on for the ride. One would think Miss Four Years would appreciate all his efforts for her sake. How could she not?
Alien. That was how.
And frankly, her everyday Im above this attitude was really starting to grate. He didnt want her. Well, okay, yes he did but only in a very base man-level way. He damn sure wasnt going to do anything about it. And if the earth should ever stop revolving, which it would have to do before he would even consider touching her again, no matter how long shed been without, she just might have to crawl and beg. Ha. That would teach her.
Matt found loafers, shoved his feet into them, and went marching out of his bedroom to get rid of her.
But when he entered the living room, Rebecca was standing at the windows, wearing a very gentle smile that slowed him down a step or two. You know what? she asked immediately. You were right.
Damn straight he was right. She had started this whole thing, not him.
I feel so much better after that sandwich. I really cant thank you enough, Matt. I dont know what I would have done without you. I mean, I never drink too much Im usually very careful about that.
Usually very tightly wound was more like it.
I really appreciate your help, she said with a grateful smile.
All right. Well okay then. This was more like it. It wasnt anything, he lied, and picked up his keys. Ready? He gestured toward the door and followed her, pausing to pick up a couple of baseball caps.
Whats this for? Rebecca asked as he handed her one.
We ride with the top down. He opened the door. After you, Mork.
She gave him an inquisitive look, shook her head, and walked out.
Matt had every intention of taking her directly to her car, do not pass Go . . . but in spite of her lack of attachment after last nights activities, she looked sort of cute with the baseball cap on, and it was a glorious early-spring day, with temps hovering around seventy.
The kicker was his moms birthday, which he didnt really remember was next week until he saw the West Lynn Art Festival, a tony little two-street art show. His mom loved crap like that, filled her whole house with it. And then, a gift from heaven a Chevy half-ton had pulled away from the curb right in front of him and opened up the greatest parking space in the history of mankind.
Matt instantly jerked his car into it.
What are you doing? Rebecca cried, gripping the door to keep from being tossed onto the sidewalk.
My moms birthday is next week.
Rebecca leaned forward, looked down the little street where the art festival was in full swing. Oh ... but cant you take me to my car first?
No way, he said, slapping the gear into park. I will never get a parking space this good again in my lifetime and you owe me at least that much. Goodthat left her speechless. Im just going to pop in and find my mom something
nice for her birthday. I wont be a minute. You can come with or you can sit, makes no difference to me.
She puffed her cheeks out, obviously debating, then huffed her disgruntlement as she opened the car door, swung her bag over her shoulder, and slammed the door shut before marching around to his side of the car. Okay. Lets go, she said grimly.
Its not like I am asking you to jump off a cliff, you know, he drawled as he unthinkingly grasped her elbow to shepherd her across the street.
I know ... I just think it would be better if we went our separate ways and moved on, she said pertly.
What was he, the last guy on earth or something? Why are you making this out to be such a big deal? he asked irritably.
Im not making it into anything, she said. And FYI, you may think its all well and good, but it is a big deal to me
It would be to me, too, after four years, he grumbled, steering her down the path.
Do you mind? Im just saying Im not the sort for casual sex.
Matt quirked a brow and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Like to really go at it, eh?
Matt.
He sighed. Just trying to get you to lighten up, Rebecca. We agreed a good time was had by all. Thats it, nothing more, he said, noticing her cheeks were turning an appealing shade of pink. And since it was agreed that I am not going to drop down on a knee and ask you to make it permanent, I think you could stand a little shopping.
Okay .. . since you put it that way, she said thoughtfully, wincing up at him.
Matt rolled his eyes, then turned away. She was looking at him a little too closely, like she was peering all the way to the bottom of his feet, and he didnt like it.
Are you an art enthusiast? Rebecca asked as they entered the first row of canvas-bound booths full of original
oil and watercolor paintings, colorful pottery, wrought iron yard art, woodworks, and metal sculptures.
Are you changing the subject?
She shot him a sly look. Yes. Help me out, will you? Do you like art?
I like originality in anything, he answered truthfully. Dont you?
Oh, yes, she said, nodding. Actually, I wanted to be an artist. She paused, looked at an oil painting of a field of bluebonnets. When I was a girl, I never went anywhere without my sketch pad and pencils.
Honestly, that surprised Matt he had her pegged as the cheerleader homecoming queen type, not the thoughtful artist type. So what stopped you?
Life, she said with an indifferent shrug. What else? And she continued into the little booth, looking at more paintings of windmills and bluebonnets and dilapidated country barns.
But that sounded like a cop-out to Matt, and he followed her inside, asking, Why would life stop you? Life happened to me, too, but I still went to law school.
Of course. But youre a smart man. (Matt immediately chalked that up in the pro column). I wasnt smart enough to figure out how to be me at the same time I was trying to be who others wanted me to be.
Now why on earth would you want to try to be who others wanted you to be?
Rebecca flashed a funny, sad little smile that crinkled the corner of her eyes. Good question. One Ive asked myself a million times. I was so young and so stupid and I gave up so much. Ive only recently begun to realize how much. With a sigh, she moved away from him to look at a painting of a herd of cattle.
Her answer intrigued him Rebecca didnt seem like a woman who had ever had to give up anything, but in fact, quite the opposite. So you made some mistakes as a kid everyone does. Cant you just get it back?
Get what back?
Your life. Whoever you were going to be.
Her laugh was pleasant and light, washing over him like some freaky cosmic rain. I would if I could go back in time!
I know you cant go back in time, but you can pick up where you left off, he insisted, suddenly wanting nothing more than to see the Rebecca that might have been.
No, I cant. Too much time has passed since then, and besides, you should never look back, only forward, for tomorrow is where the future lies, not in your past.
Where did you get that? Matt snorted. Out of some lame self-help book?
That earned him a pointed look from the demon-eyes. I suppose you have something against people who try to improve themselves?
No. But I have something against people deciding they cant have the same desires and dreams they did when they were a kid. Do you still want to pick up a sketch book?
Rebecca sort of rolled her shoulders.
Whats that?
What?
That little thing you just did with your shoulders. Was it a yes or a no?
I didnt do anything with my shoulders. I just dont have anything else to say on the subject.
Ah, he said as they paused at a potters booth. I hit a button.
Nooo, you didnt hit a button, Matt, she said impatiently. Im just not the same person I was then.
Or last night, for that matter, he muttered.
Im going to ignore that, she said, her eyes narrowing. I will tell you, however, that most people go through at least seven stages of personal development before they are transformed into who they really are!
Man, she had been reading self-help books. Thats a bunch of crap. We are all essentially the same person we were as a kid. And I think you still want to paint but that youve been trained to think it is some sort of childish wish.
It is a childish wish. And besides, I have Grayson now.
Thats just a lousy excuse not to try.
She came to an abrupt halt in front of a glazed clay pitcher and matching cups. Why should you care if I paint or not? she demanded.
I couldnt possibly care less, he assured her. I just dont like adults copping out on their true desires. If I were you, Id quit reading self-help books and follow whats in my heart, because you can be whoever or whatever you want to be, Rebecca. There is no limit, no rule, no childish fantasy if you really want it. Just be. And furthermore ... He glanced around them, leaned down to whisper in her ear. Its okay to enjoy sex for the sake of sex now and again. Its good for you.