Love At Last Page 9

  “What position?”

  “Right field. I didn’t see much action, but my brother said that’s where they put the better players, so…” She shrugged, so adorably oblivious to what her right-field position implied. No way was he going to tell her.

  “Anyway, it’s not like I can’t ride. I can ride. I just fall over a lot.”

  “Is that all? Well, why didn’t you say so? That just means I’ll have to pick you up.” He nibbled on a spot just under her ear. “Dust off this beautiful bottom. Maybe kiss a boo-boo or two.”

  She rolled on top of him, holding his arms above his head. “You’re laughing at me again.”

  “No. I’m just smiling. You make me smile. I like it.”

  “Oh. Well, then I’m glad. I like you, too.” She kissed him, just a simple press of her lips to his, and he felt that tightness in his chest again.

  Chapter 10

  CLARE WASN’T SURPRISED TO find her bed empty when she woke. Deacon had made love to her again before the sun was up, waking her with gentle lips and warm, roaming hands. Then just before she’d slipped back into sleep after that last time, he’d whispered that he was going for a run and would meet her at breakfast.

  Her bed smelled of him…and them. She stretched and smiled, thinking of the day and night ahead. Rolling to look at the clock, she saw it was after eight. He’d drawn the shades before leaving, giving her a little more sleep. She smiled at his thoughtfulness. They hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.

  Never had a man made her want like that, made her burn. Was she so undersexed to have not felt that burn before now? She didn’t know. And feeling deliciously sore in several places, she didn’t really care.

  Her gaze fell on the giant tub, still ringed with flowers along the ledge. That was one thing they hadn’t done. Maybe they would. She stretched again then rolled up and out of bed for a quick shower. She almost hated to wash off his scent, but she wanted to shave. And maybe he’ll come back and catch me in the shower. That would be a great way to start their day.

  Wearing her blue-and-white two-piece and a brightly colored silk cover-up, Clare strolled to the breakfast buffet, feeling loose and energized.

  It was another beautiful day in paradise. Under the brilliant-blue sky, birds called to each other. Bright-red blooms as big as her head opened up in the center of green leaf spears along the stone path. She could hear the faint buzzing of a leaf blower as the ground crew worked to keep things perfectly tidy. Were the birds louder than yesterday? The flowers brighter?

  She laughed at herself and pulled out her phone to call Jess. She put the phone back. What could she say? She was an idiot to be thinking what she was thinking. Feeling what she was feeling. But at the moment, she didn’t care. And she didn’t want to talk about that just yet.

  Didn’t want to say that she felt something for Deacon. Enough to make her think maybe it wasn’t time for her young heart to throw in the towel just yet.

  She reached the hostess stand at the open-air breakfast area. “I’m meeting someone,” Clare told her and took a spin around, thinking Deacon would surely have beaten her. When she didn’t see him, she requested a table for two along the front, closest to the ocean.

  She checked her phone. 8:55. She imagined Deacon’s face and the smug smile she would give Mr. Morning Person since she’d beaten him to breakfast. She ordered a soda for herself but waited on Deacon for coffee so it wouldn’t get cold.

  The white gauze on the corners of the beach cabanas waved and rippled in the breeze. Beyond them, the morning sun reflected off the water. A beach waiter was already stopping at huts for drink orders.

  She sipped her soda and watched the couples beginning another day in paradise. To anyone watching her, she looked the same as she had on her first breakfast here, sitting alone at a table for two. But she didn’t feel alone anymore. And other things had changed. Gone was that used and tossed-away feeling.

  She tried to imagine if she hadn’t come. If she’d let Adam take this trip from her. She’d never been so grateful for any decision. She’d never been a big believer in fate, but it seemed meant to be. What would Deacon say to that, she wondered.

  And what would he say if she mentioned taking what they had beyond this week? Her stomach took a nervous dive at the thought. Nervous but also a giddy excitement.

  The waitress came again, offering to fill the coffee mug at the place setting across from her. She checked the time. 9:05.

  “Sure.” He’d be here any second, and his coffee would be ready. She sipped her soda and looked back at the entrance to make sure he wasn’t standing there, looking for her. She looked back at least three more times.

  At 9:15, she wondered if she’d missed him somehow. At 9:25, she worried maybe he’d hurt himself on his run. She didn’t know his room number because he always came to her. She finished her drink and twirled the straw around the ice cubes. His coffee was getting cold. The voices of the nearby couples seemed too loud.

  At nine thirty, she went back to her room. He’d probably be waiting there. A miscommunication. It seemed silly they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, but she’d mostly avoided her phone. She waited in her room until ten, remembering how children were told to stay in one place and not wander if they were lost. At ten after ten, she went to the lobby.

  Sure he’d hurt himself and was back in his room, she went to the front desk to ask for his room number. He probably needed ice or maybe a nice massage. She smiled at that.

  She waited patiently for the one young man working the desk to finish with another guest. “Hi,” she said, when her turn came. “I was wondering if you could give me the room number for—”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We cannot give out room numbers,” he said and went on to explain their strict privacy policy.

  “Oh. Okay. It’s just I was supposed to meet him, and we’ve somehow missed each other.”

  “I can ring his room.”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling immediately better. “That would be great.” He handed her the receiver, and she waited then listened to the funny international ringing sound. It rang five times. Seven. Ten. She could feel the young desk clerk’s eyes on her. Finally, she handed the phone back.

  “Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Yes, it’s just, I’m afraid he might have hurt himself. Maybe he can’t get to the phone.”

  “I can have someone check on him. Would you like to leave a message?”

  “Um…okay. Sure.” Her heart sank, not all the way, but a little. It was just a misunderstanding. She left her message: just a simple, “Sorry I missed you at breakfast. I’ll be on the beach.” It didn’t feel right. They’d made plans to spend the day together. Didn’t we?

  Turning away from the desk, she recognized the grey-haired couple who’d introduced themselves one night. They were walking right toward her. What was his name? “Hi.”

  “Hey, there,” he said, with a jovial smile. “Having fun?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “Fantastic. Fantastic.”

  “Are you booking an activity?” his wife asked. “We’re going zip-lining! I can’t even believe it.”

  Clare smiled at her excitement.

  “So what are you doing today? Hey! Maybe you’re going with us.”

  “Um…no. I was actually looking for Deacon. We somehow missed each other this morning.”

  “Oh, well. I did see him a few hours ago. I was out early. Waiting for the wife here to wake up. Saw Deacon tearing out of here like his ass was on fire.” He laughed at his own joke.

  Clare didn’t miss the swift elbow to the stomach the doctor’s wife gave him.

  “Oh, well…” Clare’s mind raced with possibilities. “He was probably just going into town for something.” Was there even a town to go into? She didn’t know.

  “I don’t know,” the old man said, frowning. “He had his suitcase with him and was making a dash for a cab.”

  He’s gone.

  “He mentio
ned yesterday that he really did need to get back, that he’d been away from the office long enough. I’m surprised he stayed at all,” he added with a laugh. “But you and he—”

  His wife tugged his shirtsleeve, cutting him off.

  The blood pulsed in her ears. When did he say he needed to go home? Yesterday morning? Last night? He was with me the entire day—when did he see this man? She wanted to ask but couldn’t get the words out.

  “Are you sure you were supposed to meet today, dear?” the woman asked kindly.

  Yeah. She was sure. Her pillow was still covered with his scent. The woman’s look of pity made her stomach turn. She straightened, lifting her chin slightly. “You know, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She struggled for a calm she didn’t feel. “I guess I got the days mixed up. Too much vacation.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “No, it’s fine.” She forced a smile and drew her bag up on her shoulder. “Really. I totally forgot what day it was.”

  “Maybe he left you a note at the desk,” the woman called as she turned to go.

  “Yes. Right. I’ll check that.” Clare smiled and kept walking.

  Clare walked numbly back to her room. After looking everywhere she could think of for a note, she called the front desk.

  “No, there’s no message. Dr. Montgomery checked out,” the girl at the desk said.

  She sank onto the side of the bed. The bed she’d shared just hours ago with Deacon. The bed she would have said they made love in and now had to face the reality it had been anything but. She’d been fucked. Nothing more.

  She sat, replaying every second, every word, trying to make sense of it. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t tell what was what? That a man could seem to care and then leave? She hadn’t thought he loved her, but she had thought he cared. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t tell the difference?

  She called the front desk again, hoping for a message. There was none. She thanked the receptionist and hung up. After a while she lay down on her side, clinging to the slightest possibility that maybe there was a good reason. That he might still call. The hotel. Her room.

  But he didn’t. Feeling sick, she checked the front desk several more times for a message that never came.

  Deacon was gone. She was an idiot. And she did care, very much.

  Adam’s words rang in her ears.

  I didn’t mean to fall in love with her. I didn’t mean for it to happen.

  She could understand that. Neither had she.

  She’d arrived disappointed by one man. She was leaving shattered by another.

  Chapter 11

  FEAR GRIPPED DEACON IN an unrelenting choke hold. His daughter, his baby, was hurting. And he wasn’t there.

  He’d been one step from his room when his mother’s phone call had knocked his world off its axis. His mind hadn’t even been on his children. It had still been back in that warm bed with Clare’s naked body. The taste of her skin on his lips and thoughts of getting back to her heat as soon as possible.

  “It’s Maci…” His mother’s broken words spoken less than an hour ago still made his stomach clench. “Her appendix burst. I… I thought it was just a stomachache. I put her to bed.” That last word caught on a sob.

  His mother was not overly dramatic, and when her voice broke, when he heard his other daughter, Margo, crying in the background, he’d nearly gone to his knees. He’d just talked to his mom last night—No. The night before. It was the night before because I didn’t called home last night.

  “She’s in surgery. You need to come home.”

  Home. Yes. He’d thrown what was right in front of him into his suitcase, checked his briefcase for his passport, and been out the door.

  Sprinting down never-ending pathways, turning left and right. There was no beauty in it now.

  “I need a cab,” he’d said to the receptionist at the front desk, his suitcase knocking into the counter. “I need a cab,” he said again, louder. “I have to get to the airport now.”

  The receptionist looked startled as he nodded. “Si, si. Outside.”

  “Wait, I need paper. A piece of paper.” He didn’t have time to go to Clare’s room. He grabbed a map left on the counter and hastily scribbled an apology and his phone number. And what else? He couldn’t think. There was so much to say and no time to say it.

  “Sir! Your cab!”

  “Yes. Okay.” He hastily added Clare’s room number, slid the map back across the counter, and grabbed his bag. He didn’t have time for more. “Can you please deliver this?”

  The man nodded. Noting his desperation, the man at the taxi stand spoke in rapid Spanish to the taxi driver. All he caught was rapido and he thought to himself, Yes. Hurry. Please hurry.

  He used the thirty-minute drive to book a flight, not blinking at the price, grateful he’d gotten a seat at all on the only morning flight, but he’d be home in ten hours if he was lucky. Ten fucking long hours.

  He called his mom again and spoke to his sister, who told him the same thing but slightly more calmly.

  Maci was so small, not quite three. Sometimes the twins seemed so big, like they grew overnight, and he couldn’t slow it down. They told him all the time they were big girls. But they weren’t big. They were tiny. They were babies.

  The pressure around his heart increased until he couldn’t get a breath. He knew too much. Even as a veterinarian, he knew too much about clamps and arteries and drops in blood pressure. The dangers of anesthesia and how one microscopic mistake could end a life in a millisecond.

  It wasn’t until he was in the air, on the way to his daughter, that he thought of Clare again. He prayed she’d gotten his note.

  After the longest flight of his life, racing to his car in the far corner of the airport lot and driving as fast as he dared, he finally reached the hospital. Long, jerky strides carried him down white, antiseptic hallways that he supposed were meant to look clean and instill calm. Instead, they were cold, reminding him it was a place of sickness and death. The first face he saw when he reached the pediatric surgery hall was his father’s.

  “She’s okay. She’s okay,” his father said, wrapping his arms around Deacon so tightly that they shook, or maybe his dad was crying. Either way, it told Deacon just how serious the situation had been.

  And I wasn’t here. Feeling sick, he looked around for a restroom.

  “Daddy!”

  Deacon sucked in a breath and held the nausea at bay as he knelt to catch a running Margo in his arms. He gathered her up, buried his nose in her soft brown curls, and took a moment just to breathe her in.

  “Where were you, Daddy?” Her little arms circled his neck in a choke hold. “Daddy? Where were you?”

  Not here, he thought. Not where I was supposed to be. And the knife lodged in his throat twisted.

  Margo settled then pulled back. “I missed you, Daddy.”

  He didn’t deserve the small smile in her tear-streaked face. “I missed you too, Muffin. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “Maci’s tummy hurted, and then it broke, and I was scared. And the amdabunce came, and it was so wowd, and it took her.”

  Deacon brushed away fresh tears rolling down her cheeks then pulled her against his chest, hiding his own in her hair.

  HOURS LATER, HE SAT at his daughter’s bedside. Monitors beeped while a bag dripped fluid into her IV. She’d come through surgery well, but sometime in the night, her fever had spiked. It was down some now, but she lay there, so small and utterly still, her usual olive complexion almost as pale as the sheets. He held her tiny hand, brought it to his lips, and minute by minute, hour by hour, watched her chest rise and fall.

  It could have been worse. If his mom had waited. If the attending physician hadn’t considered appendicitis, which was rare in children under three. A lot of ifs. And all while he’d been concerned only with himself. Maybe if I’d been here. Maybe I would have seen something, noticed something. Maybe.

  With his elbows on his knees,
he bowed his head under the weight of it and knew he couldn’t bear it if he lost her, but then thought of Margo and knew he would. He would bear it. He would do anything, bear anything. Because he was all they had.

  * * *

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU waited days to call me,” Jess said. “I’m dying here. Tell me everything.”

  Clare stood with her cell to her ear, looking around at her new apartment. The brand-new-carpet smell and freshly painted walls just added to the feeling that it wasn’t quite home. Not yet. “I know. I’m sorry. I slept the entire flight home then dove straight into unpacking this mountain of boxes. I haven’t even unpacked my suitcase yet.” Too many memories, she thought.

  “Well, you’re nothing if not organized. You can give me the sexy vacation story while you work.”

  Right. No way Jess would have forgotten about that. And what could she say? I almost gave my heart away, really gave it away, only to be left again? No. Not even to Jess. “It was fun,” she finally said after a too-long pause.

  “It was fun? That’s it? The man, Clare. I want to hear about the man.”

  “It was just a few days.” Clare ripped the tape off the first box she came to. “Not even an affair. More like a fling, really. Nothing was ever going to come of it.”

  Even if she had imagined herself flying back all warm and gooey, then talking it all out with Jess, telling her best friend every detail about Deacon, trying to put into words what made him so special, and how and when they planned to see each other again. Then with a smile so wide it made her cheeks ache, she’d say, I think I’m in love and Jess would squeal or more likely gape at her in horror, but no.

  There was no warm and gooey. No smile. She’d been stupid, or at the very least, she’d been wrong.

  “You know most of it already,” Clare said, moving to attack another box. “We met, we had dinner.”

  “You had more than dinner. Which isn’t at all like you.”