Over her shoulder, she said, “You don’t have to wait for me, Gabriel. I’ll unlock the front door if you’re ready to go.”
“I’ll wait and walk you down to your car when you’re done.”
“I, uh, didn’t bring my car today.”
“Is Evan picking you up?”
She brushed some imaginary dust from her keyboard. “He’s, uh, out of town. I’ll catch a cab or the bus.”
“No way, Lou. I’ll drive you home.”
She realigned the colorful sticky notes around the edge of her monitor. “I do it all the time. You don’t need to go out of your way.”
“You do this a lot? What does Evan say about it?” His gaze burned into the back of her head.
“Why would he say anything? I always work late. It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It’s not safe.” His chair squeaked as he settled into it. “I’ll take you home when you’re ready.”
****
What the hell was Evan thinking, letting Louisa take public transportation through downtown Seattle this late at night? If Gabe were in that asshole’s shoes, he’d be here every night if necessary to pick her up.
His rental car pulled into the alley beside Louisa’s place a few minutes before midnight. “I’ll wait here until you’re inside,” Gabe said as she slid out of the car. “Goodnight, Lou.”
She peered into the car, her hand on the door. “Thanks for the ride.” She smiled and shut the door.
She walked toward the gate and paused with her hand on the latch. Turning around, she came back toward the car.
He rolled down the passenger side window. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“Um, would you mind coming inside with me?” Even in the darkness, he saw her blush. “Sometimes I get a little freaked out coming home so late. You know, living alone…”
He turned off the car and set the emergency brake.
“Don’t mind the mess,” she warned when they entered her studio.
He shrugged off her comment, knowing her idea of a mess was a pair of shoes left outside the closet or a mug on the coffee table. But when she flipped on the lights, he saw she wasn’t kidding. Her place wasn’t a mess by most people’s standards, but the daybed was unmade with throw pillows on the floor nearby. On the small table next to the bed, a mug filled halfway with brown liquid sat on top of a stack of magazines. Two used tea bags soaked in dark spots next to the cup.
“Sorry. I got up late this morning.” She straightened the bed without actually making it and tossed the pillows into haphazard place on top. When she reached for the mug, she asked, “Would you like some tea or anything?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll let you get to bed.”
When he turned toward the door, she burst out, “Please stay, Gabriel.”
She quieted as he swung around. “I mean, I’m going to make myself a cup of herbal tea anyway and since you’re already here, I thought you might…” She cleared her throat. “I get lonely sometimes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How could you get lonely with your parents next door and Evan…around whenever you need him?”
She shrugged. “During the day I’m fine. But it’s just me here at night.” She shrugged again.
Gabe resisted the tug on the corners of his mouth, realizing what she’d just inadvertently told him: that she and Evan didn’t make a habit out of spending the night together. That news pleased him a great deal more than it probably should have.
Gabe ran the fingers of one hand through his hair and couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Louisa…I can’t.”
She blinked. “You can’t?”
He let out a long sigh. “It was hard enough being alone with you in your office tonight. But being here in your apartment with you…Well, there’s only so much temptation a man can take.”
She blinked again. “You said I didn’t have anything to worry about with you. That you respect my relationship with Evan.”
“That’s all true. But think of it this way. I’m an alcoholic. I’ve been sober for four years, but if you put a drink in front of me, I’m going to want it. And I’m going to want it bad. So the best thing for me to do is avoid situations where there’s a drink in front of me.”
A myriad of emotions flitted across her face as she processed his words. Disappointment and surprise. Then her pupils dilated with desire as his meaning registered.
God, help him.
Finally, she nodded. “I guess this is goodnight then?”
He backed toward the door. “Sweet dreams, Lou.”
****
Sarah set the pan of steaming lasagna—her new husband’s favorite—on the table. “Arty,” she called. “Dinner’s ready.”
Her husband materialized from wherever he’d been—she didn’t even bother keeping tabs on him any longer. He was never around. She noticed just the slightest hint of appreciation in his eyes as he took in the meal spread out before him.
She knew she had to tell him. This secret was killing her. She’d wanted to tell him this morning when he got home from the night shift at the hospital, but he’d looked so exhausted. She’d wanted to tell him when he woke up a few hours later, but then he’d left the house.
Sighing, she pulled out her chair and sat across from him. She bowed her head as Arty said grace.
When he was done, she opened her mouth to say “Amen,” but instead blurted, “I can’t have children.”
Arty leaned toward her. “What?”
“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I mean, I know how much you want kids and telling a guy that he’ll never be a daddy just isn’t as easy as it sounds and—” She burst into tears.
Arty jumped up from his chair and circled the table, kneeling at her side. “How do you know this? I mean, I assume you’ve heard this from your doctor?” At Sarah’s nod, he said, “Tell me what she said.”
Sarah blew her nose into the napkin, and poured out the whole story, everything she could remember from her doctor visits. “She said I have about a two percent chance of ever conceiving.” Her voice wobbled. “I’m so sorry, Arty. I know how much you want to be a daddy.”
Arty gathered her into her arms and let her cry into his shoulder until she was cried out. It felt so good to be in his embrace again. Maybe this would all work out after all.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said gently, tilting her chin up to peer into his eyes. She’d left a giant tear stain on the front of his shirt. “We’ll get through this. We’ll get you in for a second opinion—I know some great fertility experts at the hospital—but even if the news stays the same, we’ll get through this. Okay?”
She nodded, and he kissed her forehead.
“Is this why you’ve been acting so different? Why you’ve been so on edge?”
Sarah pulled away and blew her nose again. “I was devastated by the news. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about it.”
He reached out his hand as if to caress her face, then froze. “You’ve been acting weird for a few weeks, since before the wedding.”
She blinked and sniffed.
“When did you find out about this, Sarah?”
She blinked again. “I, um—”
“You knew about this
before
we got married, didn’t you? You knew about this and didn’t tell me.” His voice was flat and that scared her more than if he’d yelled at her.
Sarah didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
Arty’s eyes closed for a long moment. Then he stood. “Why, Sarah? Why did you keep this from me?”
She wiped her nose. Fear gripped her chest. “I didn’t know how to tell you. You can’t imagine—”
He held up his hand. “What I can’t imagine is how you could possibly justify not telling me. These last few miserable weeks could have been avoided if you’d just been honest with me. I could have carried some of this burden with you. I could have grieved with you, but no. You chose to shut me out.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “What it comes down to is you didn’t trust me.”
“That’s not it at all.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “What? You thought I wouldn’t want to go through with the wedding if I knew the truth? So just in case, you decided to keep this vital piece of information from me?”
“I’m sorry, Arty.” She knew she should say more, but there was nothing more to say. Everything he said was the truth.
“Marriage is all about trust. If we don’t have that, then…” He blew out a long breath. “In our vows, we promised to love and honor each other.”
Fresh tears cascaded down her face. “Arty.”
He shook his head. “This doesn’t feel very honorable to me.” He stalked across the room and grabbed his keys from the counter.
Panic clawed at her heart. “Where are you going?”
The slamming door cut off his angry response.
****
“She’s still not in, sir. Shall I take your number and have her return your call?”
Gabe sighed and gave the receptionist at Louisa’s firm his cell phone number then hung up. He couldn’t reach her at work or at home. She was either avoiding him…or she was with Evan. Both scenarios sucked.
With a ragged outtake of breath, Gabe grabbed his camera bag and sat down at the small table near the windows. He pulled tissues, lens-cleaning fluid, and a small camelhair brush from a pocket in the bag.
The phone rang, and he grabbed it before the first ring ended. He glanced toward the bed, hoping the noise hadn’t awakened his visitor. Seeing no movement whatsoever, he said into the receiver, “Hello?”
“Hi. It’s Louisa. I just got your message.”
“Where were you?” He didn’t care that the answer really was none of his business.
“Sarah and Arty have separated. She called me at about two in the morning bawling her eyes out. I spent the rest of the night at her house, trying to console her. She’s really worried about Arty. He was so upset when he left, and she has no idea where—”
“He’s here, Lou. He’s okay.” He glanced at the second bed in the room.
“Arty’s there? At your hotel?” Her relief emanated through the receiver.
“He came by around midnight, drunk as a skunk.” Gabe kept his voice low, but doubted anything short of an atomic blast would wake Arty.
“That’s not like him at all.” She sounded even more worried than before. “I assume he told you what’s going on?”
“Yeah. Sad stuff.”
“I can’t believe she kept all of this a secret. I should have realized something wasn’t right. I should have known she was upset about something. Maybe I could have prevented this. Maybe—”
“Louisa.” He said her name calmly but firmly. “It’s not your fault.”
“We’ve got to do something, Gabriel.”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know. Talk sense into them, wave a magic wand over them, I don’t know. I feel so helpless.”
“Yeah, I know. But this is something they need to work out on their own.”
Gabe disconnected the call. Poor Sarah. He knew how much she’d wanted to be a mom. She’d been so good with Joey. She and Louisa used to talk nonstop about having their kids play together and grow up together. Now, it looked like neither woman’s dreams would come true.
Gabe sighed and popped the lens cap off his camera. With small strokes, he carefully whisked away minute particles of dust from the lens and viewfinder. Then he poured a sparing amount of the cleaner onto a special tissue made just for this purpose and wiped the glass surfaces gently but thoroughly.
Thinking of his friends’ troubled marriage naturally turned his thoughts to Louisa. He still couldn’t help feeling he’d come back to Seattle for a reason. Was there still hope for him and Louisa? He couldn’t help smiling at the thought, even though a lot of years had passed and a lot of painful memories and unresolved issues remained. He wasn’t a fool in thinking it would be easy—their relationship hadn’t been
easy
since they took it out of the friendship realm so many years ago. But he had something now that he hadn’t had back then. Sobriety.
Of course, he couldn’t forget about Evan.
Gabe frowned and gave the lens and viewfinder a final polishing with a dry tissue. He still couldn’t understand what Louisa saw in the man. He was so wrong for her. Evan lived in a penthouse, whereas she had always dreamed of an old farmhouse in the country. He didn’t want more children, whereas she had always wanted a full house. And this whole political game made Gabe uneasy. He didn’t think it was jealousy clouding his opinion or even that he thought the majority of politicians would sell out their own mothers to gain a vote. It was just too convenient for Payne that Senator Rhodes would be his future father-in-law. Too damned convenient.
No matter how much Louisa expostulated on Evan’s finer points, Gabe suspected the man wouldn’t be able to make her happy. Could
he
make her happy, though? He stood up and crossed to the window. Matchbox cars and ant-size people scurried along the street far below.
He’d made her happy once, he was sure of it. But that was before they’d had a constant struggle with money. Before her family had come between them.
Before the accident.
Chapter Eight
“I have an idea how we can help Sarah and Arty.”
Louisa clutched the receiver with shaking fingers. Why did just hearing Gabe’s voice scramble her insides, dance her pulse through her veins, send a persistent throbbing between her legs? “Oh, how?” Her voice sounded relatively normal, which was good. She shifted in her chair, needing to erase that last sensation. She straightened the artwork on her desk, lining up the corners, making everything neat and in order.
“Why don’t we meet for lunch to discuss it?”
The invitation didn’t sound suggestive, and Louisa knew she should be ashamed of herself for even thinking about herself and Gabe, when she should be more concerned with Sarah and Arty. “Just tell me now.” She didn’t need to see Gabe. Talking to him on the phone was hard enough.
“Arty’s going to be out of the shower any minute. I’d rather talk to you in person. In private.”
She was only meeting him to help her friends. No ulterior motive whatsoever. “Okay, fine.”
****
Gabe noticed Louisa the minute she turned the corner. She saw him, too—he could tell by the way her step faltered—but she kept her eyes averted as she walked toward him. Her hair was up in a loose twist, several curls trailing onto her white blouse. A flowing navy skirt stopped mid-calf to show off narrow ankles. He knew he shouldn’t stare, but she looked so good. Did he dare hope he might be able to win her back into his life?