Authors: Ann Christopher
Reaching out an arm, Tony gripped the wide curve of her hip, scooped her away from the jostling crowd and nestled her up against his side. He’d developed the habit of always wanting her around so they could confer about breaking events at any given time. It was as though nothing ever really got started, or could be fully enjoyed, until Talia was there with him.
He kissed her temple. “Only these two driving the babysitter crazy.”
Arianna, still listening to the phone, spied Talia, smiled and waved like a maniac.
Talia grinned back. “It’s the new-parent thing, I suppose.”
“Yeah, well, wait’ll you see Apollonia,” he told her. “She’s beautiful. She’s got this little Mohawk thing going on with her hair. And she’s laughing now. If you give her a raspberry on her cheek—she’s got these huge chipmunk cheeks—she’ll go crazy.”
Wow. Was that him, gushing about a baby like that?
“Oh, she sounds adorable.”
Tony kissed her temple again, enjoying the feel of her. In what he considered a major coup, he’d convinced her not to wear a wig tonight and embrace her natural hair, which was growing into lush curls that he loved to finger. She’d worn this sexy-ass dress that was stretchy and purple, with long sleeves and a high neck in front. But in back—whoa. In some amazing feat of modern engineering, there was pretty much nothing, which meant that her toned back was bare all the way down to the twin dimples above her butt.
He couldn’t wait to get her home, to say the very least.
And the engagement ring in his breast pocket—a blazing emerald, because a woman like Talia, who was all about color, needed something more interesting than a diamond—was weighing pretty heavy right now. Tonight was the night. Perfect, right? She was the woman of the hour, with all of New York here to appreciate the brilliance of her mural, and such a special night required a very special ending.
Yeah, he couldn’t wait.
“How do you feel about children?” he murmured in her ear.
She stiffened a little, her smile fading even as she gave the answer he’d hoped to hear. “I love them.”
There it was again. The uneasy vibe he’d been getting from her all evening hit him again, and that shadow streaked across her eyes. Something was definitely up, and it worried him. He’d have to get to the bottom—
“Sorry about that,” Arianna announced, hanging up at last and extending a hand to Talia. “I’m Arianna. I’m so thrilled to meet you. Tony’s told me all about—”
Uh-oh. No telling where that could go.
“Yeah, okay, moving on,” Tony interjected. “This is Arianna’s husband, Joshua.”
Joshua shook Talia’s hand, his eyes bright with subtle masculine appreciation behind his glasses. “How’re you doing?”
“It’s great to meet you both,” Talia told them. “I hear Apollonia’s a real looker.”
“She’s perfect,” Arianna gushed with a new mother’s pride. “Well, not perfect, actually, because she hasn’t burped or pooped yet. So we’re, you know, going to have to leave.”
Tony’s bottom jaw hit the polished floor. What the hell had happened to his sister, who imparted this information with so much gravity you’d think the kid had been diagnosed with a raging case of tuberculosis? “
Leave?
Are you kidding me? The party’s just getting started. I think the babysitter can handle—”
“Well, apparently she can’t, man.” Joshua tossed back the rest of his drink and clinked the empty glass on the tray of a passing server. “Because if she could, Apollonia would have taken care of her business by now. It was nice meeting you, though,” he told Talia. “Enjoy the party. The mural’s, ah, colorful.”
That made Talia grin. “It’s called
Sol Resurrection,
by the way. The sun is being reborn.”
They all turned to stare at the mural, which was glorious. The best work of Talia’s Tony had ever seen, no question, and the perfect antidote to the heartbreaking paintings of her dark period. It was as though she’d taken all the exuberance and light of her personality and distilled it into her slashes and swirls, creating something breathtaking. Tony loved it. But of course, he loved her.
“Well, I saw the sun. I got that much.” Color crept up Joshua’s cheeks. “Art’s not really my thing. But if you want to buy commercial real estate, you let me know.”
Talia laughed. “That’s a deal. Have a good night. And I hope that, ah, Apollonia’s poop comes out okay.” She scrunched up her face. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone before.”
As Arianna and Joshua left, Tony checked his watch. “I really thought Sandro would be here by now. I guess I should check my phone. He might’ve left me a text— Speak of the devil. There they are.”
Mickey appeared through the crowd first, or maybe it was just that he was so hard to miss. Upon seeing them, his face split in a grin that threatened to swallow his entire head. He wore an unfortunate shiny gray tuxedo of the type last seen when the Temptations appeared on
The Ed Sullivan Show,
and yet it was somehow perfect for him. The fire engine-red tie was a startling accessory.
Tony made a face and rubbed his eyes. “You need to give me a warning, man.”
Mickey’s grin never faltered. “Don’t hate. You look fantastic, Talia. What’re you doing with this punk when there’s a man like me in the world?”
“I ask myself that every day,” Talia replied solemnly. “Is that Sandro behind you?”
“This is Sandro.” Tony pulled his twin in for a hug, and they slapped each other on the back. “What the hell, man? You folks were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
Sandro, who wore a standard black tuxedo, thank goodness, shrugged. “Bad weather out of D.C. And I left you a message, which you’d know if you ever checked your phone. Is this the famous Talia?”
“This is Talia,” Tony said, feeling an unwelcome twinge of…unease.
Which was ridiculous, he knew. True, his former fiancée, Skylar, had taken one look at Sandro and fallen out of love with Tony, but that was a whole different situation. He and Sky had been caught up in a whirlwind romance that had been intensified by his pending deployment, and they’d never known each other as they should. And his feelings for Talia now versus what he thought he’d had with Sky?
No comparison. Not even close.
So it was ridiculous to feel uneasy just because Talia and Sandro were now shaking hands and smiling at each other.
Completely ridiculous.
But the thing was—
Skylar’s falling in love with Sandro had been a nasty pinch to his ego.
If
Talia
left him, on the other hand…
Whoa. Ugly filled him up inside. He didn’t even want to go there.
Talia seemed to know something of what he was feeling. She kept her free hand around Tony’s waist and gave him a squeeze as she teased Sandro.
“The less attractive and talented Davies twin. So nice to meet you at last. I don’t know why we never met when you dropped Nikolas off for his art lessons.”
“Weird, huh?” Sandro laughed, taking the ribbing with good grace. “I like this one, man.”
“Don’t like her too much,” Tony muttered.
Still laughing, Sandro slung an arm around his teenage son, Nikolas, and pulled him into the conversation. “You remember Nikolas, right, Talia?”
“Of course.” Talia accepted Nikolas’s kiss on the cheek. Nikolas, who was wiry and seemed to have grown a foot every time Tony saw him, had switched his hair from red to blue. No wonder he and Talia got along so well, Tony thought. “How’s the painting coming, Nikolas? You’re still painting, right?”
Nikolas shrank into the typical teenager slouch, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “Pretty good. I’ve been doing some work with charcoals.”
“And photography,” Sandro added. “He’s been doing some great work in black-and-white. Taking pictures of all the national monuments. Tell them, Nik.”
Nikolas almost smiled at this praise from his father, but then he caught himself and reverted to an indifferent shrug. “I’ve got a new Nikon. It’s pretty cool. You know.”
“I’d love to see your pictures.” Talia beamed at him. “I’m so proud.”
“Get a grip,” Nikolas told her, still working on stifling his grin.
Talia punched his arm. “Where’s Skylar?” she asked.
Sandro looked around. “She was going to the ladies’— Oh, there she is.”
Skylar floated out of the crowd, smiling and gorgeous in a pale pink gown that—
Whoa. Tony did a double take, even as she saw him.
“Tony,” she cried.
“Hello, beautiful.” Conscious of the situation’s awkwardness and how Talia must be feeling to meet his former fiancée, he rested his hand low on Talia’s bare back as he leaned in to kiss Sky on the cheek. “This is Talia.”
“Talia,”
Sky repeated. The women exchanged reserved smiles, and then Sky, God bless her, pulled Talia in for a hug and kiss. “It’s so great to meet you.”
“I know,” Talia said when they separated, laughing now. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—thank you for dumping Tony.”
“My pleasure,” Sky said, winking at Tony. “You take good care of him, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“Ah, Sky,” Tony began, eyeing the half basketball she seemed to be sporting under her dress, “is there anything, ah, new?”
“Nooo.” Sky made a show of furrowing her brow and looked to Sandro. “Is there anything new, Sandro?”
Sandro did the same thing, scrunching his face up with mock puzzlement. “No, I don’t think— Well, there is that one thing…”
“Will you two knock it off?” Nikolas leaned across them, cutting his father off and adding an eye roll for effect, even though he was grinning. “Sky’s pregnant,” he announced. “It’s a boy.”
“What?”
“That’s wonderful!”
This news generated a new round of hugs and back slaps, with much excited chatter about nausea, due dates and nurseries. When the smoke finally cleared, Sandro took his clan off to the buffet table for some chow, and Tony kept Talia in his arms because this was a wonderful night and he couldn’t wait another second.
“Wow,” she breathed. “What a night—”
“I’m in love with you,” he told her. “Marry me.”
Talia froze, her smile dying right before his eyes, which was not the thing a man wanted to happen when he put it all on the line like that. Even worse, some darkness reached out and took her from him, extinguishing the light in her personality.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
Sudden fear made his voice sharp. “That’s easy. Say yes.”
“We need to talk about this later, Tony—”
Later was probably a good idea. They were in the middle of a huge freaking party, after all, not the place where you wanted to have what was turning out to be a heart-wrenching conversation. People surrounded them on all sides, the music was too loud and there was no privacy to be had.
But he couldn’t wait, so he asked the question that had been niggling at him all night. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”
She tried that delaying tactic again. “Let’s get through the party, and then we—”
“Now.”
Her haunted eyes seemed to take up her entire face as she kicked his world out from under him.
“I found a lump this morning. I think the cancer’s back.”
Chapter 12
T
hey got through the rest of the gala somehow.
A million lifetimes later, what had turned into a nightmare evening was finally over and they climbed into a limo and headed back to Talia’s apartment. He stared out his window at the city’s glittering lights; she stared out hers. The car stopped. She murmured something. They got out. There were stairs, so he climbed them. A door opened, so he walked through it. The dog licked his hand, so he petted her.
None of it really existed.
For him, only the waking terror was real. It blinded him. Trapped him. Stopped his breath.
What, then, must it be doing to Talia?
They stared at each other, both locked behind something that felt insurmountable. He wanted to reach for her, but his hands had long ago turned to blocks of ice frozen to the ends of his arms. He wanted to speak, but what words could sooth or address…
this?
They stared at each other across the length of her living room.
“Tell me—” He paused to clear the frog from his throat. “Start from the beginning.”
Jesus. He almost couldn’t look at her, seeing his own fear mirrored back in those beloved gray eyes.
“There’s a lump in my neck. I felt it this morning in the shower.”
“And you’re just telling me—?”
“I didn’t want to ruin the gala,” she said simply.
“And I didn’t want you to carry this by yourself.” Man. That edge in his voice was getting sharper by the moment, wasn’t it? “I thought we’d established that, Talia. I thought we were partners in this. You think I’m okay with having the time of my life while you’re scared shitless? Does that seem fair to you?”
It took her way too long to answer. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”
Well, he knew that feeling, didn’t he?
“Where is it? Show me.”
“Why do we need to—”
“Show me.”
Moving in super slow motion, she raised a hand to her neck, felt and pointed. “Here.”
Jesus. His hands were shaking. Reaching out, he pressed his hand to her warm skin and—
There it was, knotted and hard. Foreign. New.
Was this the thing that would kill her and rob him of the greatest happiness he’d ever known, then? Their own personal Taliban that they couldn’t see to fight?
He snatched his hand away, trying not to see the misery in her expression.
“So.” His voice was getting more hoarse by the syllable. “Doctor.”
“Monday at eight-thirty.”
He nodded. That was the best they could do, he supposed. They couldn’t very well storm her oncologist’s home, demanding a Saturday-night appointment, could they?
“I’ll be with you.”
She said nothing, which wasn’t good for his morale.
A terrible moment passed, full of silence, distance and stark terror.
“Well,” she finally said, edging toward the bedroom. “It’s late. I’m going to bed. Are you staying?”
Speaking of not good for his morale…
“Excuse me? Did you just ask if I was staying? Is this a joke?”
“You don’t have to.”
What the hell was going on here? “Try this on for size, Talia—I want to.”
Her brows flattened and she made a little
tsk
ing sound. “Do you?”
“What?”
“It’s not like we’re in the mood for making love, is it? You can barely look at me, and just now you acted like you’d dipped your hand in nuclear waste, so I don’t think you’ll be touching me at all. Why don’t you spend the night in your penthouse—”
“Don’t do this, Talia.”
She pulled a blank face that made him want to smash something. “Do what?”
“Push me away. I told you I loved you tonight. Did you hear that? I asked you to marry me—”
“Yeah, but that was before you knew—”
He held up a finger to stop her, too choked to speak and too angry to risk hearing another nonsensical word that might come out of her mouth. “Before…I knew? What? That you were human? That you might get sick one day?”
“Might get sick?” she cried. “Are you serious right now?
Skylar
might get sick—”
“Skylar?”
“
You
might get sick.
Sandro
might get sick. Me? I probably
will
get sick. You should find another woman and hedge your bets against the whole
sick
thing.”
“I don’t want another woman. I thought you knew that. One of your letters talked about ‘the one’ being the person who was the sun in your life. Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re that for me. And I will be with you through this—”
That seemed to be too much for her. “Through this?” she shrieked, tendons straining in her neck as she made a sound that was way too ugly to be a laugh. “How noble! What do you think this is,
Love Story?
What’re you—Ryan O’Neal? You think I’m going to get sick off camera and then graciously climb into bed and die—”
“Don’t say that!”
“—while my cheeks are still dewy and my hair is long and thick? Please!”
“Talia—”
“Have you ever seen someone vomit after chemotherapy, Tony? Ever seen the mouth sores or the radiation burns? Ever seen hair fall out in clumps?” Here she paused for another of those nasty laughs. “Although, to be fair, I don’t really have enough hair for it to fall out in clumps, but still—”
“What do you want me to say? No, I’ve never seen any of that, but I will. If that’s what we have to go through to build our life together, then, yeah—”
“Well, let’s talk about that for a minute.” She marched up to get in his face, her features wild and contorted. “Let’s say I do get through another round of treatment and we do get married.”
“Hallelujah.”
“What if the treatments make me infertile? What if I already am infertile? Did you ever think of that? How’re you going to get the babies you seem to want with a wife who can’t produce them?”
She didn’t really think that was a dilemma, did she?
The ridiculousness of the question made him snort. “If it’s a choice between life with you, however it goes, or life with some brood mare, then I’ll take you. What else have you got to throw at me?”
She checked herself in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you can’t seem to get rid of me fast enough. You were so worried about me walking out, but you don’t get a free pass. I don’t walk out on you, and you don’t walk out on me. Period. That’s the deal. So you’d better dial back that fear.”
Her brows snapped together with outrage or bravado—he couldn’t tell which—and she puffed up, reminding him of some creature on Animal Planet executing its most effective defensive maneuver.
“Don’t you dare.”
Calm washed over him, as though God had touched a finger to his head, and he knew, absolutely and irrevocably, that nothing would prevent him from being with this woman until the day one of them died.
He’d been afraid before, and he was afraid now.
But he would work through his fear. He had to.
“You’re the coward here, not me,” he said quietly. “You’re the hypocrite here, not me.”
These truths were too much for her. Tears that had been welling for the last several minutes began to fall, wetting her cheeks as she began to sob.
“I want you to leave! Get out of here! Leave me alone!”
Shaking his head, he stretched out on the couch, covered himself with the throw and stared her in the face. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”
“We’re a little early, I think,” Gloria said on Monday morning, keeping her firm grip on Talia’s elbow as she steered them off the elevator at the medical arts building and down the long hallway to the oncologist’s office. “I told you we had time to stop for coffee.”
Though she was so numb that just walking was like trying to run a marathon while under the effects of a sleeping pill, Talia tried to smile. Tried to engage. “You don’t need any more coffee. Your bladder’s going to explode.”
“Eh. You may be right.”
Take a step, Talia. Another step. And another.
“We’ll get through this, Tally.”
“I know. I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for—”
Gloria stopped cold. “If you thank me for coming with you, Talia Adams, I swear to God I’ll kill you myself.”
Uh-oh. Nothing like a death threat to make you change course.
“—finally telling me what happened with you and Cooper Davies when he took you home after the party. And don’t deny it. I know you. You’ve been acting funny.”
Predictably, Gloria clammed up, making a show of turning away and staring out the windows as they continued walking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said flatly.
“I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
A man stepped around the corner, blocking them.
Oh, God. It was Tony.
She hadn’t seen him since Saturday night. In one of her lowest moments, ever, she had walked out on him. Just grabbed her purse, leashed the dog and taken them both with her as she fled to Gloria’s apartment, where she stayed, ignoring his frequent calls and texts the entire weekend.
Now here he was. He looked terrible, with ringed eyes, a stubbled chin and wrinkled clothes. If she had any question about whether their brief separation had been as hard on him as it had been on her, here was the proof, in his haunted expression.
Her hand flew to her heart, which had stopped.
His hands, which were down by his sides, rose a little, in a supplicating gesture, as though his words weren’t working any better than hers were at the moment.
Please.
Shame hit her hard, because of course everything he’d said to her was right. About her hypocrisy? About her cowardice? True. All, sadly, true.
She’d been so afraid he’d reject her that she hadn’t given him a chance, and she was ashamed of herself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
His breath hitched. “You should be. Come here.”
They came together, hard, and Talia held on to Tony, her anchor, for all she was worth. How on earth had she thought she could make it through this without his quiet strength backing her up?
Gloria slipped away, although Talia could hear her discreet sniffles.
She pulled back so she could see Tony’s face. “I love you. I should have told you before.”
He nodded, ducking his head as he swiped his eyes. “Yeah. You should’ve.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“So am I.”
Some of the weight in her chest lifted. Thank God he gave her naked honesty and not some rah-rah speech about how they’d kick cancer’s ass. She couldn’t take that right now. He was right, of course. Some burdens needed to be shared.
“I have a quote,” she told him. “From Dr. King.”
Those dimples appeared in his cheeks. “Oh, yeah? I could use a quote right about now. Hit me.”
“He said, ‘We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.’”
Tony nodded. “‘Dikes of courage.’ That works for me. I’ve got a big shovel and a strong back.”
“God, I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” he said, kissing her temple a last time.
“Well.” She worked up a smile that felt reasonably courageous. “Should we go? I don’t want to be late.”
“Not just yet.”
He reached inside his jeans pocket and produced something small.
Then he reached for her left hand.
Covering her mouth with her free right hand, trying not to erupt in tears, Talia watched as he slipped a ring on her finger. It was the brightest green emerald imaginable, surrounded by diamond baguettes.
When it was safely on her finger, Tony took her hand and, followed by Gloria, who was sniffling louder than ever now, led her into the doctor’s office.
“Now we’re ready.”