Bound to be Dirty (30 page)

Thirty-four

S
o this is where Canada's Mr. Hockey lives.” Dax studied the slate-toned lobby of the sleek Yaletown condo building. It wasn't to his taste, but each to his own.

“Yes, and George moved in a few months ago,” Lily said.

“What's up with that nickname? She didn't look like a George to me.”

“When I first met her, she was very tailored, downplaying her femininity.” She gave a short laugh. “A lot like the way I dress, I guess.”

“I like your professional look. But I also like it when you wear things like your new dress and that butterfly top.”

“Which I'm rapidly wearing out.” Inside the elevator, she pressed the button for the penthouse floor. “I'll ask Regina and my book club friends for suggestions on where to shop for more feminine clothes.”

“On the subject of your friends, are they out for my blood?” A week ago, they'd comforted Lily when she cried over getting a divorce. This weekend she'd texted with an update, and said he'd be coming with her to Kim's engagement party.

He and Lily stepped out of the elevator on the penthouse floor, which had only four apartment doors.

“There'll be scrutiny,” she said. “Maybe some grilling.” She sounded way too cheerful about that. “Especially from Marielle. She's pretty blunt.”

“Great,” he said glumly. “I guess I deserve it.”

“You do.” She grinned up at him. “Look at it this way. At least no one's shooting at you.”

Hearing his own words echoed back made him smile too. “Come here, you.” He pulled her close for a kiss. But even as his lips touched her soft, sweet ones, even as he counted his blessings for how well things were going for the two of them, in the back of Dax's mind the issue of children hung there like a storm cloud. He knew it was in Lily's mind too. When he was flying, he avoided storm clouds. In his marriage, avoidance was no longer possible. And yet, though he'd mulled the subject over and over, he hadn't reached a resolution.

Though he tried to concentrate on nothing but his wife's sexy mouth, the delicate scent of her orange-almond body lotion got him thinking of the sweet, powdery smell of baby Sophia, her soft weight in his arms, the trusting way she'd fallen asleep with her head resting in his palm. She'd tugged at heartstrings he'd never known existed. But she also freaking terrified him. How could he be responsible for an innocent child, make a lifelong commitment to be
there
the way his parents never had?

Was he capable of giving the woman he loved the thing she most wanted in life?

The elevator dinged and a female voice said, “Oh man, you two need to get a room.”

Lily broke away from his embrace. “Hi, Marielle.”

Dax turned to greet his wife's friend, who was with a slim, tallish, fair-haired man. The brunette's brown eyes were assessing as she said, “So, Dax, we meet again.”

Yeah, a few words could convey a lot. “We do.” Then, because he knew it pissed Lily off when he was terse, he added, “It's good to see you again. And to be here.”

Marielle gave a slight nod, and he knew he'd passed the first test. “Lily, Dax,” she said, “meet Kent.”

After murmuring “nice to meet you,” they located the right apartment and Dax pressed the buzzer.

The door was opened by a tall, muscular guy dressed in a sandy-colored jersey top over black casual pants. Woody Hanrahan. Dax recognized him from watching hockey on TV.

Woody ushered them in and they went through another round of introductions as people put their coats in the hall closet. Dax, like Lily, wore Kim's clothing art and, he saw, so did Marielle. Her filmy tee had wing patterns in yellow and black with accents of blue and red, reminding him of a swallowtail butterfly. Kent wore a blue button-down shirt with black pants.

As Woody led the way through the apartment, where a couple dozen people of various ages mingled, Dax gazed around. It was spacious, with huge windows giving a view of the nighttime city. Dax liked the room; it looked like a lived-in blend of Woody's and George's personalities. The guy stuff featured black leather furniture, a large TV and sound system, and big paintings of winter lakes that really spoke to Dax. The female touch was evident in colorful cushions and throws, flowers, knickknacks, and a bookcase crammed full of books.

Woody took them to the kitchen. Dax recognized the other book club women. Redheaded George wore a slinky bronze top and a long chocolate-colored skirt. Petite Kim's spiky black hair was streaked with vivid blue and green, matching the peacock design of feathers and eyes on her top. She was cuddled up under the arm of a lean, muscular guy with sandy brown hair. He wore a Western-style shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black jeans, and a leather belt with a large, fancy buckle. Lily had said that Kim's fiancé, Ty Ronan, owned a ranch, was a horse trainer, and also rode in rodeos.

Kim handled the introductions and Dax endured assessing looks from George and Kim. Woody got drinks and Dax gratefully took a bottle of beer.

Marielle said, “I want to check out the food, since I recommended the caterer.”

Dax, Lily, and Kent went along with her. The dining table at one end of the living room was covered with appetizers, presided over by a chunky young Asian man in chef's clothing. As Marielle greeted the caterer, the others loaded plates with snacks. Most of the food was cold: fancy-looking sushi, miniature taco cups, tiny meatballs with dip, skewers with prawns and red pepper in spicy sauce, raw vegetables and dips, and half a dozen other items. There was a cracker and cheese platter, and another platter of exotic fruits. Every item had a label with the name, principal ingredients, and any allergy warnings.

Lily and Dax moved along to where the chef tended two chafing dishes, one holding butternut squash ravioli with hazelnut oil, the other containing small chicken thighs in coconut-lemongrass curry.

“The food looks great,” Dax told the chef, and Lily said, “The labels are brilliant. I've rarely seen things so clearly marked.”

Marielle, who'd filled a plate of her own, said eagerly, “Let's go meet people.”

Lily and Dax, along with Kent, followed her. Dax wasn't much for cocktail party chat. Still, it was interesting meeting art colleagues of Kim's, a few old friends of hers who dated back to elementary school, and friends of Ty's from the Fraser Valley. Ty's parents were there, an attractive middle-aged blonde in a yellow sweater and a silver-haired man in a white Western shirt and bolo tie, along with some people who worked at Ronan Ranch.

Dax looped his arm around Lily's shoulders. Knowing that his wife, who appeared so poised, was actually shy, he murmured, “Marielle makes it pretty painless.”

“She does. But I wish it was just the book club and their guys,” she said quietly. “I think you'd like the women if you got to know them, and I'd like to talk more to Ty and Woody. Cocktail parties are too much surface and very little depth.”

“We could have them over for dinner,” he suggested. “Or go out together.”

“Really?” Her brows lifted. “You'd be okay with that?”

“Jeez, Lily, I know I'm a bit of a loner, but I like people. If we're spending more time here together, we should have a social life.” He quickly qualified that. “Just not so much with your parents. Maybe your brother and Regina, though. Seems like you and Anthony are getting along better.”

“Sophia is loosening him up.”

“And you're not being so competitive.” He squeezed her shoulder and teased, “Plus, you have to be nice to them if you want to see your niece.”

“There is that,” she admitted with a smile.

He went to get fresh drinks for them, and when he returned, Lily was talking to George, Woody, Marielle, and Kent. Kim and Ty came over too. “Thanks so much for coming to celebrate with us,” Kim said. “Dax, that tee looks terrific on you.”

“It's great. Thanks for making it.”

“Hey Ty,” Marielle said, “how come you're not wearing a Kim-designed shirt?”

“She wanted to show her friends I'm a real cowboy.”

“See that buckle belt?” Kim boasted. “That's his World Rodeo Champion buckle for best all-around cowboy.”

“Wow,” Marielle said. “That's hot, Ty.”

Ty rolled his eyes. “Women.”

They talked about this and that for a while, the group shifting from time to time. At one point, Dax went to get more snacks, and found George at his elbow, reaching for a chicken thigh.

“I'm so happy for Kim and Ty,” she said.

“Yeah, they seem good together. Congratulations on your engagement too.”

“Thanks. You know, book club's been meeting for less than a year and now two of us are engaged.” Serious amber eyes studied his face. “It hasn't been easy for either of us, with our guys.”

“Uh, it hasn't?” This seemed like a pretty personal subject for a cocktail party.

She shook her head. “Ty's very involved with Ronan Ranch, and Kim believed her future lay back in Hong Kong. They both thought their relationship couldn't work, but they found a way.”

“That's good,” he said warily. Was she winding up for a lecture?

“Woody didn't plan on settling down. I was a widow and believed my husband was my one soul mate. When we fell for each other, we had some big issues to work through.”

Big issues to work through. “Right.”

She gave an understanding smile. “It'd be nice if love was easy, wouldn't it?”

“That's for sure.” Since she'd gone for a subtle approach rather than a lecture, he ventured, “Any tips on how to work out those issues?”

“Nothing profound, I'm afraid. Trust, communication, hard work. Examining your heart. Really examining it, with all your defenses down.”

Something in his body clenched and his face must have reflected it, because she gave a rueful head shake. “That's a tough thing to do, isn't it? But when you love someone, when you're totally committed to them, you have to.” Now a twinkle lit her eyes. “It's easy to be physically naked with the person you love. Emotionally naked is way harder.”

“Did I hear the word ‘naked'?” a male voice asked. Woody's arm came around his fiancée's shoulders. “You better not be thinking about getting naked with anyone other than me, Georgia.” Dax had noticed that Woody, unlike everyone else, didn't use the nickname George.

She grinned at him. “No danger of that. I was just telling Dax that when a man loves a woman, he has to let himself be emotionally naked and vulnerable with her.”

The wince on Woody's face—likely a twin to Dax's own expression a moment ago—had Dax hiding a smile.

“A guy has to commit,” Woody said. “If you want something bad enough—whether it's a woman or the Stanley Cup—you commit and go after it. Period.”

George put her arm around him and winked at Dax. “That too.”

As Dax moved back to join Lily, he reflected on their advice. He and Lily had both said they loved each other and were committed to making their marriage work. She'd laid herself bare, emotionally, when she told him how badly she wanted children. He'd tried to examine his heart, the way George said, but what he saw there was no clearer than mud. If he loved Lily—and he did, deeply and truly—shouldn't he want to have children with her? Why the hell wasn't he sure? What defenses were so entrenched that he couldn't see deep into his own heart?

He'd won a Medal for Military Valour, but did he have the guts to strip away his defenses and examine his heart?

Thirty-five

T
he next Sunday morning, Lily enjoyed lazing in bed with Dax, dozing, making love, talking.

How luxurious to not be heading off to the clinic to do admin work. She, a couple of the other doctors, and Jennifer, the receptionist, had interviewed a candidate for office manager, and been blown away. The woman would come to work for them in two weeks. Jennifer had already taken on more administrative duties, bringing records up-to-date and creating reports using computer skills Lily'd never realized she possessed.

It had been a good week for Lily and Dax too, and she'd decided that rather than agonize over what she'd do if he decided he didn't want kids, she'd try to remain positive and hopeful.

The combination of sunshine outside the window and her growling stomach made her say, “Let's have breakfast and decide how to spend the day.”

Lily donned her robe and Dax pulled on boxer briefs, then they went to the kitchen and put together a meal of fruit, yogurt, and toasted bagels with jam. She was ready to linger over a second cup of coffee and discuss plans, but Dax rose. “I'm going to take a quick shower then I have a couple of things to do. You relax; I'll be back soon.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and strode from the kitchen.

She frowned after him. What
things
did he need to do, and why didn't he suggest she come along? In the past, this would have been normal behavior for both of them, but now she felt shut out. “Old habits,” she muttered as she poured that second cup of coffee. “Hard to break.” When he returned, he'd tell her what he'd been doing. If not, she'd ask. They'd agreed they wanted an open, communicative relationship.

Armed with coffee and her Kindle, she curled up in a chair by the living room window. Her current book—not a book club choice—had been a Giller Prize finalist. It was better written than
Bound by Desire
, but she had trouble concentrating. A few minutes later, Dax called, “I'm off. See you in a bit.”

There was something—excitement? urgency?—in his voice. Or was that her imagination?

“Bye,” she called, and then tried to refocus on her book. It was no use. She couldn't get into it.

She dealt with the breakfast clutter then had her own shower and dressed. Guessing they'd probably go for a walk on such a beautiful day, she chose jeans and one of the new lightweight sweaters she'd picked up this week at a store George had recommended. The crew-neck garment was the soft purple of lilacs and made her light blue eyes look even bluer.

Restless, she decided to look at the financial information her trust fund manager had sent her this week. In the small home office, her desk had the usual neat stacks of papers and magazines, while Dax's held only his open netbook.

As she walked past his desk, her hip brushed his desk chair, sending it spinning to catch the edge of his computer. Quickly she grabbed the netbook to steady it, in the process dislodging a large white envelope that had rested beneath it. She bent to retrieve the envelope and noted that it had a RE/MAX logo. A real estate company?

Was this what he'd done yesterday, while she worked at the Downtown Eastside medical clinic? When she'd discussed her volunteer work with Dax, saying that she'd made a commitment and wasn't comfortable bailing on it two weeks in a row, he'd been understanding. He'd said he'd keep himself occupied. Last night, when she asked how he'd spent the day, he said, “This and that. Nothing special.” Had he started to hunt for properties that might interest them for a weekend cottage, or possibly a new home within commuting distance? Why hadn't he mentioned it, and shown her what he found? Probably he intended to tell her today.

She sat at her own desk and opened the trust-fund package. But now curiosity had set in. When would Dax be back? Surely he wouldn't mind her taking a look. They were in this together, after all.

She wandered over to his desk and fingered the envelope. It was unsealed. She eased the contents out an inch, to see a RE/MAX folder. A note was clipped to the top, handwritten on a female Realtor's stationery.

Get this back to me ASAP so I can make the offer. Think about how high you're willing to go if they counteroffer. But, as I said, they're in a hurry to sell and they might accept at this price.

Make an offer? What on earth? She pulled the folder out, flipped it open, and stared at a contract of purchase and sale. The purchaser names were Dwayne Arthur Xavier and Lily Elizabeth Nyland, and the price tag was hefty, higher than the value of the condo.

“Oh!” Her heart raced as she stared at the document in stunned disbelief. Dax had viewed properties, decided on one, and instructed a Realtor to draw up an offer? At a price that meant selling the condo, which meant this was no weekend cottage, but a new home. He'd done all this without even mentioning it to Lily? What was he thinking? An open, communicative relationship? “Hah!”

Steamed, she turned to the attached listing sheet and gazed at the photo. The reason for the price tag clearly wasn't the house. The photo showed a rustic cottage, fitting nicely into its natural surroundings. Rather charming, but quite run-down. The description told her it stood on a two-acre property on Bowen Island, not on the waterfront—which would have been prohibitively expensive—but on a hill with an ocean view.

Bowen was a location they'd discussed. It had a lovely natural setting plus the essential services, and was easily accessible from Vancouver by either water taxi or highway and ferry.

The house in the photo, with some repairs and paint, would be nice. But they were nowhere near being ready to make an offer. Not with the one huge unresolved issue hanging over them. “What on earth is he thinking?”

She scanned the details on the listing sheet. A thousand square feet? That was barely larger than the condo. One bedroom—“What?” This was a house for a couple, not a family.

Her knees gave out and she sank into his desk chair. No, this wasn't possible. Dax had promised that he'd seriously consider having children and he'd tell her when he decided.

Well, this damned offer was pretty clear evidence of his decision. Did he think she'd just go along? That she'd choose him over her long held, deeply rooted dream of having kids?

Would she?

She rested her head in her hands. She'd been sure they were heading in the right direction together. Discussing things, sharing, trusting each other. And now, just like her parents, he didn't give a damn about what she needed and wanted. He was trying to steamroll her into going along with what he wanted. With his vision of their future. A childless future.

No, she wasn't building
any
future with a man who shut her out this way.

Tears slid down her face and that horrible hollow ache was back in her heart. It was over. This time, their marriage really was over. And it hurt even more because she'd let herself hope.

In a daze, she shoved the folder back into the envelope and returned the envelope to its position underneath his netbook. She walked to the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her face. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes glittery with tears. She swallowed, trying to force the tears back. Dax wasn't worth crying over.

But . . . was that really true?

She pressed her hands against the counter of the vanity, the marble cold and slick under her palms. And she remembered . . . The summer when she'd fallen in love with him, and the dreams they'd shared then. The way he'd opened up to her recently, revealing painful things he'd never spoken of before. The many discussions they'd had over the past couple of weeks; the romantic gestures; the steps forward and back. After all that, would he really try to impose his vision of the future on her?

Her breath caught as a new idea struck her. Did he think she was trying to impose her vision on him? He'd asked her what she'd do if she had to choose between him and having children, and she'd told him she didn't know. It was the truth, a truth that had the potential of ripping her heart in half. But had he heard it as a threat?

Even if he had, what did this offer to buy a one-bedroom cottage mean?

He would tell her. She couldn't give up on him.

Steadier now, she washed her face again and applied a touch of eye makeup to conceal any signs of tears. She heard the front door open and went to greet Dax.

His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. “Okay, almost ready. I'm taking you for a ride.”

“Oh? Where?”

“A surprise destination. I'll be back in a minute.” He headed down the hall.

Let me guess, Bowen Island?
She held back the words, collected her purse, and pulled on boots and her sheepskin jacket.

He returned and caught her hand. “Ready?”

“All set.”

They rode the elevator down to the basement and climbed into the Lexus.

“You know I don't do that well with surprises,” she warned.

“Yeah, but you're trying to be more flexible and spontaneous, right?”

She pressed her lips together. If she hadn't found the real-estate contract, how would she feel now? Pleasantly anticipatory that Dax was taking her on an adventure. “Right.”

Dax drove out into the sunshine and they both put on sunglasses. Stuart McLean's Vinyl Café was just starting on CBC Radio. Telling herself to be patient, Lily tried to focus on one of McLean's stories about husband and wife Dave and Morley.

As McLean spun the story in his measured style, Dax drove down Broadway to Cambie, over the Cambie Street Bridge, through downtown, and over the Lions Gate Bridge. Yes, they were heading toward the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal. Periodically, Dax laughed at something McLean said. The fingers of his left hand tapped the steering wheel as if he was full of nervous energy.

When he took the road to the terminal, rather than the Sea to Sky Highway that led to Lions Bay, Squamish, and Whistler, she said, “One of three options: Nanaimo, the Sunshine Coast, or Bowen Island. You know I'll find out when you pay the fare.”

“Yeah. I thought of blindfolding you all the way, but that'd be hard to explain to the cashier.” He pulled up to one of the booths and told the woman, “Bowen Island, please.”

She took his credit card and directed him to a lane in the terminal.

Thinking of how she would normally act, Lily said, “We talked about looking for a place on Bowen. If we're going to scout out locations and places for sale, why's that such a big secret?”

“Relax and all will be revealed.”

Relax. Hah.

The ferry was starting to load. Dax drove on and parked. “It's a twenty-minute trip. Want to stay in the car or go on deck?”

Despite the sunshine, it would be windy and cold on deck. “I'll stay and listen to Vinyl Café. You go on; I'm sure you'd like to get outside.” And she could use the time apart. It was stressful, sitting next to her husband and worrying about the meaning of that real-estate offer.

“Sounds good.” He swung out of the car, leaving the radio on for her.

Stuart McLean's style of presentation wasn't exactly dynamic, yet it was compelling. The appeal of the Dave and Morley stories was how relatable they were. The couple was a normal husband and wife with two children, going through a normal life with ups and downs, humor and sorrow. A shared life. The kind of life Lily and Dax had never had. And, quite possibly, never would. She blinked back tears.

It wasn't long until Dax was back and the ferry docked. When he drove off, he pulled over to the side of the road, letting the other ferry traffic pass by. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the silk scarf she'd bought in Whistler. “Take off your sunglasses and blindfold yourself.”

She didn't take the scarf. “You're not serious?”

“Call me Falcon and obey.” His tone was mostly joking but held an undertone of seriousness.

No, this wasn't the time for sex games, and she wasn't in the mood for an unpleasant “surprise.” Yet if she hadn't found the damn contract, she'd likely think this was fun. “Fine.” She took the scarf and wound it around her head.

“You can't see anything?”

“I can't.”

He pulled onto the road again.

It was disconcerting being blind in a moving vehicle, and she gripped the armrest on the door to steady herself. Even though Bowen was so close to Vancouver, this was the first time she'd been here and she had no way of getting her bearings. There wasn't much traffic, only the occasional sound of an oncoming car passing. The road got bumpier, and she sensed they were going uphill. Dax pulled the car to a stop and turned off the ignition, abruptly silencing Stuart McLean. Lily realized that, since the program was still on, it must be less than an hour since they'd left home.

He touched her arm. “Stay here and keep the blindfold on. I'll be back for you in five minutes.”

“Fine.” No, it wasn't fine at all. She could have asked him to put the key back in the ignition so she could hear the end of the story. But at this point, she didn't give a damn how Dave and Morley's story ended. Hers and Dax's was the only one she cared about.

“Promise me you'll keep the blindfold on.”

She swallowed. “I promise.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” There was tenderness in his voice along with the excitement. She blinked against the blindfold, forcing back tears.

Dax released her arm and got out. He opened the trunk then closed it again. Gravel crunched. Then all was silent and she was alone.

She could peek. She could remove the blindfold and opt out of his game. But she would keep her promise and try to cling to the remnants of trust and hope. It was possible she'd misinterpreted the situation, and Dax truly cared about her and her dream for the future.

Gravel crunched again, a warning before the passenger door opened. Dax's hand gripped her arm. “Climb out carefully. I've got you.”