Authors: Jane Beckenham
Again.
"Sorry Cade, got to go. Wedding tomorrow,” she offered as an excuse. Gathering up her coat and bag, she quickly shucked it on before he could reach her. She turned to him, willing the fresh tremors that threatened to leave her in a heap at his feet to dissolve.
"I...” she stuttered. “How do I say thank you?"
"You just did,” he said. But there wasn't an inch of humor in his expression.
"It doesn't seem enough. You've given me a new start,” she said. One she now knew she didn't want to go alone, but had to. Cade had to make his own decisions, his own path in life. Taylor swallowed hard, trying to clear a suddenly blocked airway. “Take care, Cade. You'll be a success. Good luck.” And with that, she wrenched the door open, tottering into the dark, lonely night, before she allowed herself to think. Besides, thinking hurt.
With the engine running Taylor sat in the car, staring out blankly at the inky darkness. The sound of the waves were a soft slap against the wharf and from the distance where the Harbor Bridge spanned the isthmus came the incessant hum of vehicles crossing its length.
"Damn you, Cade Harper.” Taylor slammed her hands down on the steering wheel. But it wasn't Cade's fault. “I shouldn't have opened a can of worms. Should have left everything as it was.” The status quo had worked for years, why change, she reasoned into the silent night.
But Taylor knew the answer. Just as she had known from the moment she spied Cade haloed by the rays of the sun beaming through the church's stained window—he was the one. The man for her.
Trouble was, Cade didn't know it, nor did he want to. He didn't trust enough to let the barriers down.
"Why does love hurt so much?” Sitting in her office the next morning after zero sleep, Taylor hugged a cushion to her chest. Through eyes that stung, gritty and tear-filled, she looked up at the concerned face of Nita.
"I suppose that's what makes it worth while,” Nita said and replenished Taylor's third cup of straight black coffee. She passed Taylor the mug which she gratefully accepted and took a draught of piping hot liquid, hoping it would fortify her morbidity.
"Maybe a hit of double caffeine will bring me back to life,” she mused, trying to dig herself out of a stupor. “How can it be worthwhile if the other person doesn't figure it out?"
"I don't know, Taylor. I'm sorry."
Taylor blinked back another bout of tears. “Yeah, me, too."
"But at least you can answer those sex questions now."
"Yeah, orgasms, vaginismus, or how big is big?” she said, grinning despite herself. Her eyes lowered as memories of Cade holding her, his fingers exploring and lips kissing her, washed over her. It was too much and, for the umpteenth time in forty-eight hours, tears began.
Nita plunked herself down beside Taylor. “That's right. Cry. Let it all out."
"How long, Nita? How long until it gets better?"
"A while."
Left to her own sadness, Taylor mulled over what Nita had said.
A while
. She hoped so, but right now it felt like it was forever. It hurt. Deep down inside, where she'd never let anyone in. Until now. ‘Til, Cade Harper.
"Big mistake."
"You are one fool, Cade."
The pile of accounts Cade had been working on fell from his hands to his already over crowded desk. He stood up and scowled. “Get out of here, Zane."
"Not until I've given you a piece of my mind."
Cade gritted his teeth. “Do I have to listen?"
"If you know what's good for you.” Zane thrust him back into his seat. “Now sit there and keep that trap shut, brother."
"Get it over with quick.” Cade eyed the blueprints scattered over his desk. His dream project. But not his real-life dream. That space had been taken.
Cade choked back an oath and squashed that thought. “I've got to see the builders at the new site,” he informed his brother, ever hopeful Zane would turn tail and walk right out of his office.
"Yeah, and isn't that just convenient. Business and more business. What else is there?"
"Exactly.” Cade folded his arms across his chest.
"Life? Love? Have you heard of those words?"
"I'm in no mood to listen to your ramblings, Zane."
"Haven't been in any mood since Taylor walked out on you,” his brother cut in. “Now why would that be?"
A heavy sigh slid past Cade's grim down-turned mouth. He eyed his brother. So like himself, yet very different. “You may be my brother, but right now I want to punch your lights out."
"Bring it on,” Zane chuckled and flexed his fingers back and forwards.
"Yeah, right. Anyway, I presume you're going to tell me something."
A familiar smile spread across Zane's face, and for a split second, fear knotted in Cade's gut.
"Now, that is where you're wrong. I'm not telling you anything."
"Great. About time.” Cade shoved his chair back and stood up. Zane was tall, but he was taller.
"Don't try and intimidate me, Cade. Won't work. Hasn't since I hit thirteen,” Zane said as he opened the door to the bar. “You're my big brother. I look up to you. I
used
to think you knew everything. I guess I was wrong.” He shrugged. “You've got to work this out for yourself, mate."
"There's nothing to work out,” Cade said flatly.
Zane made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Now that is
definitely
where you're wrong. So, I'll say goodbye. Happy analyzing, Cade."
Zane stepped through the door and closed it behind him, but just as the latch went to click, he popped his head back around the door. “One more thing, Cade. Our mother left because Dad didn't care enough. Do you care enough?"
And with that, the door shut with a resounding click leaving Cade alone—finally—to think. Something he was very uncomfortable doing.
Sleep again proved elusive, and Cade tossed and turned as the hours ticked by until he heard the birds’ first call and daybreak tipped over the conical peak of Rangitoto Island in the harbor.
"Bloody birds. Shut up,” he snarled and dragged his pillow from the bed and slammed it down on his head, hoping to drown out the birdsong.
But it was no use. Nothing worked. The still strong autumn sun had long beaten a path through his bedroom window and the birds were now in full chorus. He gave up, giving them a scowl as he hauled his sorry butt towards the shower.
Maybe that would clear his head, lighten his mood.
"Not damn likely,” he grumbled as the full force of the shower hit him.
He stayed under the pulsing jet spray until the water turned frigid. Snapping off the faucet he toweled dry and dressed.
Thank God it was Sunday. At least he'd get some peace and quiet from the regulars. Their incessant questioning about Taylor's whereabouts was driving him nuts, and the fact that he couldn't answer them, made it a hundred times worse.
What was he going to do? Give up?
After his third strong, black coffee, loaded with caffeine, Cade thought perhaps he could face work, so he headed downstairs to the back room and his computer.
"Work, is what I need.” He grimaced as he eyed the piles of unopened mail. What was wrong with him? He thrived on work, on getting it done. Yet, here it was unopened for days.
An hour later, the pile hadn't diminished, and he'd achieved zilch.
"Come on, Harper, get it together.” He grabbed the nearest pile and began sorting through it, but hadn't gone more than the first couple of accounts when a thunderous knock resounded on the side door of the premises.
Cade ignored it. Maybe they'd go away. But it continued. Louder and more insistent with every thunderous rap.
"Damn it, it's Sunday,” he snarled as he wrenched the bolt back and opened the door. “Hugh?"
"Gotta talk, Cade. Gotta figure it out.” Hugh Prendergast didn't wait to be asked in, but barged past Cade and headed straight through to the bar. He grabbed a tumbler and punched it under the whiskey nozzle three times, filling his glass. Cade watched as his normally staid best friend downed the contents in one unbroken guzzle, then replenished it before turning to face him.
"You don't look too good, mate,” he said to Hugh, which was an understatement. With black circles shadowing sleep-deprived blurry eyes, Hugh looked like death. Stubble grazed his chin, and his normally dapper appearance was overshadowed by clothes which he'd obviously slept in.
"Same could be said about you."
Cade paused and eyed his reflection in a nearby window. Day old growth, bleary eyes. Yep, he looked a wreck. He turned back to Hugh. “Where's Brianna?"
"We've argued. It's over."
His jaw dropped. “You're joking?"
Hugh sank into the chair behind Cade, dropping his head into his hands. “Wish I was.” His red-rimmed eyes glistened.
This was serious.
"I should have been like you."
"What do you mean? You love Brianna."
"I know, and I do. But, oh hell,” Hugh let out a few blue expletives, and Cade winced. Hugh didn't swear. Hugh was the good boy, always in control. Knew where he was going, loved Brianna from the moment he set eyes on her.
Just like you and Taylor
.
Shut up!
Cade refused to listen to his inner ramblings. They didn't matter. Taylor wasn't interested.
"Look, phone her. I'm sure it's okay. New marriages always have blips."
"
You
reckoned marriage wasn't worth it. You're right. It's not."
"You don't mean that,” Cade said shocked at Hugh's despondency.
"Why not? You do."
"Yeah, but ... Look, Hugh. I'm not the marriage kind, but you are."
"What about that new woman ... Taylor? Katie said you're hot for her."
"Katie should mind her own business.” Taylor had stipulated once only, and that's what she got. “Don't worry, it was a once only. She's not interested in more; besides she's got a thing going with ... ah, someone else,” Cade informed his friend. “A dead guy."
Hugh's shock was obvious. “Hell, tough opposition."
"Good pun."
"Sorry. Tough call, though."
"You're telling me. How the hell do I compete with a dead guy?"
For a few seconds Cade was lost in his own misery, then shook his head and focused on his best friend. “Come on. Leave that drink. I think coffee's on order. Strong and black. Then maybe you'll be able to think straight.” Cade hit the kitchen, switching on the kettle and getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cupboard. The irony of what he offered Hugh as a medicine for his marital woes wasn't lost on him, considering the vast quantity of coffee he'd used to drown his sorrows over the last few days.
"So, what went wrong with Taylor?"
"A one night stand. That's all.” He shrugged, knowing it was absolutely nothing like it.
"I would say there's more to it than that, by the look of you,” Hugh said as he took his cup of coffee from Cade.
Tendrils of white steam spiraled from Cade's coffee. He stared at it for brief moment. “Nah. Nothing else. It's over."
He took several draughts of his coffee, eyes closing momentarily as he let the hot liquid revive him. No sleep. No concentration, and now Hugh on his doorstep wallowing in marriage dramas. What else?
"She dumped you!” Hugh spluttered into his coffee. With great precision he placed his cup on the paper-strewn coffee table. “The woman dumped you. My God, I can't believe it."
The pulse in Cade's throat skittered, and his jaw clenched. “It happens,” he said trying for nonchalance, while inside his gut churned. It hurt. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. And it shouldn't. Letting it hurt made it way too close to home. Too close to his past, and he wasn't about to let his past hurt impinge on the present. Cade definitely didn't want to care. Caring hurt.
"She doesn't answer my calls,” he finally admitted.
"Think she's trying to tell you something?"
"Loud and clear.” Cade reached for his coffee and gulped back the remainder.
"And the problem is?” Hugh prompted.
"The problem is, mate, I feel like I've been shafted."
"Women don't shaft you, Cade. You're the guy that loves and leaves ‘em."
Yep. The truth hurt. This was a different truth, however, and one he didn't want to face and determined to change the way this conversation was going. “Your wife loves you, Hugh. You love her. It's as simple as that."
"Good deflection, Cade."
Cade offered his friend a sheepish grin.
How come it sounded simple for everyone else when his life was a disaster area? Zane had said his mother left because of their father. But she didn't just leave dear old dad; she left him, Zane and Katie, too. What about them?
"Brianna told me to go,” Hugh said breaking into Cade's morose miasma.
"Why?"
"Says I'm married to my job, not her."
"Oh..."
"What do you mean, oh?"
"That's big stuff for a woman."
"And you should know; you've had plenty of them."
"Low blow, Hugh."
Hugh dragged a hand through is carrot-top curls. “Yeah, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. I've got a tough hide. Look, buy her some flowers, some chocolates. But most of all, Hugh, go home. Tell her you love her, run the bath for her, give her a foot massage, anything that tells her you appreciate her. Work is important, I'm the first one to agree on that one, but you're a team now. You can't spend twenty-four/seven hunched over a computer program anymore."
"Yeah, I know you're right."
Cade smiled at his friend. They'd been through a lot. It was good to be able to help him. “So what are you doing here?” Cade pushed himself away from the bench and strode toward the door with Hugh following.
"You sure you're okay about Taylor?” Hugh asked.
Cade wasn't about to let his friend start up on that again. “Don't worry about me."
Hugh eyed him with that steel gray gaze of his, the one Cade had seen him use when trying to suss out some computer programming glitch. “You've changed, Cade."
"Enough,” he said and gave Hugh a playful push. “Go home. Love her like there's no tomorrow."
Cade stood at his door and watched Hugh walk the short path from the side exit to his car, all the while his own advice rang hollow in his ears—and continued to ring long after Hugh had departed to make amends with his bride.