The First Move Page 16

  Under the wrinkles and the crazy hair, he looked like the sturdiest man she could ever hope to know. A willow tree that would bend with her, but never try to break her. Never abandon her. The thought should be a comfort, but when God closed a door, he made the window really uncomfortable to crawl through.

  If he wouldn’t leave her—and she wouldn’t want to leave him—then somewhere in her future was marriage, and maybe another child or two. She’d never imagined that life for herself. The knowledge that she’d given up—and that she might’ve been wrong to do so—stabbed her through the heart. She had to grasp hold of her knees tighter just to keep from toppling over with the pain.

  Through all her thinking, Miles never spoke, never reached for her, but his eyes supported her through their steady gaze.

  Only when she unfurled herself from her ball and crawled up the bed did he react. He pushed the clothing to the floor, moved the covers aside and pulled her close to him, her butt tucked against his crotch.

  “We need to get rid of this,” he said, pulling at the towel turbaned around her head until it came loose. Renia had to give it an extra push to get it off the bed and to the floor.

  After he wrapped them both back in the covers, he gave her neck a kiss. He was erect, she could feel him hard against her through her robe, but he didn’t make any further moves to arouse her. He simply cradled her against his body and let his heat relax her.

  “Are you going to tell me what this was about?”

  “No.” Cowardly, but true. She was ready to be honest with herself, but not quite ready to be honest with him.

  “Okay.” He sounded disappointed. “I said I wouldn’t force you, but I hope you’ll feel like you can tell me soon.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He laughed and squeezed her tight. His arms wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair, she wondered if maybe she wasn’t the only one afraid of being abandoned.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THEY DIDN’T STAY in bed long. Renia had to get to work, no matter how comforting it was to have Miles spooned against her. She had a wedding, and there was prep work she needed to finish beforehand. She grudgingly slipped out of the bed and back to the bathroom. When she returned to the bedroom to get dressed, Miles was gone. She could hear him in the kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a cup of coffee.

  “I didn’t make much, and you don’t have any milk, but it should hold you until you can get your café au lait.”

  Normally she needed a cup of coffee to keep a headache from hitting around noon, but the pain was already there, pulsing at the back of her mind. She sipped the coffee—even though she didn’t like it black and it was too weak for her taste—and looked at Miles. By the way the tendons dominated the length of his neck, she wasn’t the only one with a headache. All a consequence of greeting him by dumping his clothes on his head, rather than a long, slow kiss.

  She really should have woken him up so they could shower together. He could’ve distracted her from the worry itching in her veins. Especially in the shower, where she’d managed to wash the smell of him off her only to have regret fill its place.

  No, not regret. She didn’t regret last night. Allowing Miles to get close to her, to see her giggly and not in control of herself, disturbed her sense of calm. She stood on the edge of life—behind her was comfortable and known, but she couldn’t yet see what was in front of her. The next step could end with a cushioned hop or a broken bone.

  They eased around each other in the kitchen, making toast for breakfast and cutting up an apple. Despite their earlier closeness in the bed, touches were responded to with an apology and they both took pains not to let a hand or eye linger.

  Her small kitchen was not big enough for her, Miles and the tension she’d created this morning.

  The effort it took to ease around the giant blob of strain meant they were both contorting themselves, reaching too far out when grabbing for butter and just generally making an uncomfortable morning worse.

  Renia didn’t know if the blob of tension split in two when she and Miles parted, or if it only tagged along with her. Regardless, it dogged her steps long after she wished him a tense goodbye. Perhaps their awkward missed kiss before his “I’ll call you later” had strengthened the blob enough for it to perform meiosis or mitosis, or whatever it was she was supposed to have learned about in high school biology. And maybe he got the joy of his own personal ball of nerves to keep him company throughout the day.

  She eyed the blob carefully as it kept her company through her last-minute review with the bride’s mother of the photographs wanted at the wedding. In the hotel room, it sprawled across the king-sized bed and watched the hairdresser fix up the bride. No bull in a china shop, no white elephant in the room. Renia had all of them beat with the size of her “Blob of Tension.”

  When the bride wanted some privacy with her mother, Renia took a short break to get some coffee. The blob had grown to King-Kong-like proportions and she got them both a cookie, which she ate at a small table, memorizing the list of desired shots for the wedding. Apparently, no one else saw the giant blob following her around, but she knew it was still there. She could feel it in the pulsing ache in her head, and neither coffee nor aspirin could get rid of it, though the combination was guaranteed to give her heartburn.

  Photographing the wedding while tense meant she spent more time thinking about the rhythm of the event, rather than relying on instinct to get good shots. She’d debated getting the second shooter for this wedding, but was glad she had. He was taking up the slack for her and enjoying himself. It was good one of them was. At the end of the day, each and every part of her body hurt, including her brain. By the time she made it home, she was ready to sink into a bubble bath. If only there was a brain relaxer that didn’t involve alcohol...

  She was just slipping off her robe when the phone rang. It was late, she was exhausted, but the area code was 513. Cincinnati.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello. This is Kimberly Stahl.”

  Renia sank onto her bed. She’d been waiting for a phone call, but Kimberly was not the Stahl she wanted to talk to. “Yes, hello. It’s nice of you to call.”

  “We’ve talked and Ashley will not be contacting you again.”

  We’ve talked. She curled her body protectively around the phone, and the punch in the gut she’d just received. Who’s we? “Ashley doesn’t want to talk to me? She called me. Did you tell her I was sorry about hanging up?”

  “It’s for the best. Good night.”

  “But you never answered my questions,” she said to nothingness. Cell phones didn’t even have a dial tone or busy signal for her to talk to.

  The lavender smell of the bubble bath had drifted into her bedroom. She could soak her worries until they were pruney. But the bath wouldn’t solve her problems, only make her muscles feel better.

  She scooted up the bed until she could rest against the headrest and dialed.

  “Rey!” Despite the tension of their parting, Miles sounded nothing but pleased to hear from her. “How was the wedding?”

  “She’s not going to be calling me back.”

  “She’s not going to be... Oh, the Stahls called back. Rey, I’m so sorry.”

  Somehow Miles acknowledging her loss made it worse and she started to cry. “She was so close,” she said between sobs. “I had her on the phone and I pushed her away.”

&nbs
p; Oh, God, she’d ruined any relationship she could hope to have with her daughter.

  “What if she’s all I’ll have and I hung up on her?”

  “Rey, I’m coming over. It’ll take me ten minutes, maybe more if I have to hunt for parking. In that time, I want you to think about what you want from Ashley, or any children. Write it down if you have to. When I get there, we’re going to go over that list, item by item and make a plan for you to get what you want.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, that’s okay.”

  * * *

  REY WAS WEARING her robe when she opened the door, her thick brown hair still pulled back in a tight bun. She’d composed herself in the fifteen minutes it had taken him to get over here. Her tears had been washed off and the blankly calm face he remembered from the wedding was back. The only evidence of her near collapse was the red flush of emotion darkening down her neck into the V of her robe.

  “Thank you for coming over.” All controlled politeness. None of the passion from the night before—or even the anger of this morning. She could turn herself on and off like a switch, frustrating the hell out of him. If she wanted to be calm Renia with other people, that was her decision, but he wished she would just be passionate, emotional Rey with him.

  But no matter how cool she looked, she needed support. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. When she was no longer stiff, when she let her head weigh down on his shoulder, he finally answered. “Of course I came. How could I not?”

  He’d not been able to resist the pull of her brown eyes when he was in high school and the years hadn’t changed that. She was the one he wanted, yesterday, today and always. In high school he’d been blinded by poetry and stupid ideas about her perfection. As an adult, he saw the many ways she was flawed, and how those flaws made her stronger. More beautiful.

  When she pulled out of his arms, her face was again warm with emotion. Her eyes were wet and her cheeks were red, but she looked alive, so he was willing to take sad. “I guess, I thought you would still be mad about this morning.”

  “Do you have such a low opinion of me?”

  “No. It’s not that.” She turned and walked into the apartment. “It’s just...” Her voice trailed off with her thought.

  It’s just that she had a low opinion of everyone. She expected everyone to drop her at the first sign of trouble and, if this morning was any indication, she sometimes gave them a push.

  She was beautiful, strong and fragile and he was in over his head. Then she crossed her legs and the robe slipped off one slim calf and he didn’t care. Rey was worth it.

  “I’m not going to let you off the hook about this morning, but first let’s talk about your daughter. Did you make a list?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed a small sheet of paper off the coffee table and handed it to him.

  The first item on the list was “Whatever is best for Ashley.” The second was “I don’t know what else.”

  “Neither of these is about what you want.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want.” She sunk into the couch, her head flopped back and robe gaping open. “She said Ashley won’t be contacting me again.”

  I want a woman who will frustrate me for the rest of my life. He must be crazy.

  “But she’s already made contact with you. Who’s to say you can’t contact her?” Her leg was tense beneath her robe, but she gave him a minuscule smile when he squeezed above her knee.

  “It’s what I want, but...”

  Rey put her hand on top of his. Her long fingers were cool as they wrapped around his hand and her nails grazed his palm. She will frustrate me, but I will never be bored.

  “...isn’t part of having a child wanting what’s best for them, at the expense of your own wishes? Ashley’s my daughter, but I’m a stranger to her. If she wants nothing to do with me, I should respect that.”

  She was right, even if she sounded like she was accepting a death sentence. Something about her conversation with the Stahls didn’t sound right to him. “What if they didn’t tell her you made contact?”

  He could easily imagine the fear that would grip him if someone came along with a claim on Sarah. Thinking rationally would be barely possible. While he’d like to think he would trust that he’d raised Sarah to make the right decision, he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t interfere.

  Rey’s lips were pursed and her eyes thoughtful as she lifted her head to look at him. “I asked if it’s what Ashley wanted and she didn’t answer. I guess I thought she didn’t want to hurt me by telling me I ruined my one chance. I didn’t think they might not have told her at all.” Her body lifted as alternate—better—scenarios filled her. “What’s the best way to contact her? A letter, maybe?” Possibility boosted her voice. “If I wrote her a letter and she didn’t want to have anything to do with me, she wouldn’t have to write me back. Then I would have my answer.”

  “I hope you get the answer you want.” He turned her list over in his hand. “‘I don’t know what else,’” he read from the list. “Is this about having more children?”

  “What if I’m a terrible mother?”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  Her head dropped back to the couch and she let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Okay, that was a flippant response, but it’s true. I had a kid when I was a kid and I seemed to do okay. If you want to have children, then you should.”

  “Do you want another child?”

  It was his turn to drop his head on the back of the couch. More sleepless nights and diapers. More ear infections and pink stuff, colds and scraped knees. Then he turned his head to look at Rey and imagined her pregnant with his child. A child they made together, one they had talked about and planned for. Planning for a child would be a new experience. He loved Sarah and couldn’t imagine his life without her, but when he’d learned Cathy was pregnant it had felt like the end of his life. If Rey told him she was pregnant, well, that might feel like the beginning of a new life.

  He sat up and took Rey’s hands. He waited until her eyes were locked on his and he knew she was listening. “With the right woman, I would love to have another child. Maybe more than one.”

  She blinked and he knew she didn’t mistake his meaning. “Why me?”

  The noise he let out was somewhere between a laugh and a cough, more out of aggravation than humor. “Are you serious?” He hadn’t picked her for being low in self-esteem. “Do you honestly look in the mirror and wonder if any man will ever be interested in you?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” She tried to pull her hands out of his, but he gripped tight and didn’t let go, even when she scrunched up her face. “You’ve seen me hang up on my daughter, cowardly try to get out of a date—”

  Seeing her open the door in her running clothes had been a signature humbling experience in a dating life, though short, filled with humbling experiences.

  “—and kick you out with no explanation after a night of great sex. For all you know, I’m nothing but crazy.”

  How could he tell her something he wasn’t certain he could put into words?

  “In high school, I had the biggest crush on you. Then I got a girl pregnant, got married and had a child. Life went on.”

  Being married to Cathy for the rest of his life, raising Sarah and living in Atlanta would have been fine. He would’ve been content.

  “Seeing you at the wedding was a second chan
ce at the unattainable, only I was a different person and so maybe you weren’t unattainable any longer.”

  Not his best excuse for asking a woman out, but he’d had worse reasons. Hell, he’d asked Cathy out because she had brown eyes that reminded him of Rey’s. She didn’t look pacified. If he had to guess, the slight raise of her eyebrows meant he’d pissed her off even more. “I’m not the same person I was at sixteen.” Her voice arched. Definitely pissed.

  “I wouldn’t want you to be that person.” She still wasn’t mollified. “Look—” he needed her to understand this “—I wasn’t ready for you. Between your pregnancy, the death of your father, the alcohol and whatever else you did that I don’t know about yet, I would’ve freaked out. By sixteen, you’d been forced to make adult decisions, while my biggest concern was that my dad had stopped taking me to Bears games.” He lifted her hands up to his mouth and dropped a kiss on her knuckles. “Now, I feel like we’re even. We both have triumphs and failures—some of our triumphs are also our failures and vice versa.”

  She ran an extended finger across his bottom lip and suddenly it didn’t matter if she understood right now. He opened his mouth, meant to say something else, but she slipped her finger in and his tongue was too busy with her finger to form words. Somehow she shifted from a seated position to her knees, the tie of her robe taunting him and her breath warm on his neck. “I want to make love to you,” she said before she nibbled on his earlobe. “Stay the night.”

  Her wet tongue in his ear shot straight to his dick and he dropped her hands so he could kiss her. Her tongue was agile in his mouth and it took no imagination at all to envision the tongue warm and wet on him. Oh, God. His honorable intentions from earlier in the night slowed down his hands as they reached for her belt, but it didn’t stop them. Her robe was undone and his hands were spread across her warm belly before his brain caught up to reality.