Carolina Mist (30 page)

“What do you mean?”

“Abby, just look at you. You lost your job and came down here and found him again. What could be more perfect than that?”

“Well, it could be a
lot
more perfect. I still don’t know where I’m going from here. And, certainly, there’s been no commitment made. I mean, as far as I know, he’s still involved with another woman.”

“You’re kidding.”

Abby slowly shook her head.

“What’s the status of that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you think you’d better find out?”

“Yes.” Abby nodded, resolving to do just exactly that, at the earliest possible opportunity.

34

A
bby was alone in the kitchen when the Saab pulled into the driveway. She peered through the curtains just as Alex got out of the car, slung his overnight bag over one shoulder, and hoisted a grocery bag from the trunk with his free hand. With two long strides, he had crossed the drive and reached the lawn. She watched him with a longing so real her insides began to ache. He paused in the yard to look down toward the river, then turned toward the house. He stopped for another moment and appeared to admire the work they had done that week.

Abby unlatched the door, and, at the sound of the lock turning, he grinned and quickened his stride. She had wondered if he would be as hungry for her as she was for him. She need not have worried.

“I missed you,” he said between kisses that sent her world spinning. “If the jury had come back earlier, I’d have been here last night.”

She pulled him into the house, and he dropped his bag at his feet and used both hands to lift her onto the counter, where he set her down and kissed her senseless. So senseless that she did not hear Belle’s footfall on the steps until he had set her back on her feet, with her wondering why he had stopped.

“
I
want to tell Gran I’m here”—he kissed the tip of her nose—“so she doesn’t get a start when she comes in.” Abby leaned hard on the counter, trying to regulate her breathing and convince her legs that they could, in fact,
hold her up. She would make coffee, that’s what she would do. And
tea, of course, for Belle…

He swung the door open hard, and it crashed sharply into the wall behind. In his hand, he held what appeared to be a business card, and his face held a fury so dark that she involuntarily backed away from its intensity.

“
Thank you
…
for the most wonderful
…
night
…
of
…
my
…
life?”
he read with caustic incredulity, deliberate emphasis on each word.

“Alex, that’s from Drew.” She dismissed the importance of the note with a wave of her hand.

“I’d say you’ve been a very busy girl this week.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Alex, that’s the card that came with flowers that Drew sent to me because
…
”

“Oh, I think I can figure out why he sent them.” His snort of disbelief shot through her.

“Alex, you can’t think for a minute
…”
She
laughed.

He slammed past her, out the door, and into the yard to his car.

“If this isn’t the stupidest
thing…”
Abby
muttered, then followed him down the driveway.
“Alex, where are you going?”

He glowered from behind dangerously dark eyes but did not break stride.

“Alex, this is ridiculous
…
where are you going?”

“Fishing!” he fairly shouted.

“Alex, don’t you want to know
…
?”

“I
know
what constitutes a wonderful night,” he growled, “and I do not want to know if
his
wonderful night”—he opened the door of the Saab—“was more wonderful”—he slid into the front seat—“than
mine!
”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Alex.” Abby’s hands flew to her hips. “This is the mo
st absurd…”

He had not heard a word. The Saab peeled back down the drive and halfway up Cove Road before she could finish her sentence.

She stood staring at the empty driveway, unable to believe
that he had left. The shaft of pain that welled inside her touched every bit of her, every muscle and every nerve. She had no idea how long she stood there before she realized she was crying. She walked to the dock and plunked herself down loudly, where she could wail and not be heard by anyone other than the occasional passing duck or curious magpie. She cried until she choked, stopped long enough to catch her breath, then cried some more. After all these years of wanting him, all these years of waiting for the miracle that would bring the only man she had ever loved back into her life, to lose him so quickly and so foolishly was more than she could bear.

She had the hiccups and knew that a long, tall glass of water was the only cure. Reluctantly—she hadn’t quite finished feeling sorry for herself—she wiped her face on her shirt and returned to the house.

“Where did Alexander go?” Belle asked as Abby passed through the back door.

“He said he was going fishing.” Abby turned her face, hoping that Belle had not noticed that her eyes were puf
f
y almost to the point of being narrow slits in her face and that her face was blotchy and streaked. It was, she knew, too much to ask.

Belle pondered Abby’s response, then nodded as if she understood completely, before tottering off to watch her Saturday morning movie.

“The Mad Miss Manton,
” Belle explained as she hurried to the morning room. Meri P., who had paused for a quick drink from her water bowl, scurried to catch up. “Barbara Stanwyck. Henry Fonda. Two of my favorites. Leila’s, too, as I recall.”

Abby sighed, a long, loud sigh of woe. Tapping her fingers on the counter, she debated her options for the rest of the day. She could (A) wallow in misery and spend the day bemoaning her fate, or (B) find something constructive to do. Common sense won out, and she went upstairs to paint. No reason why she couldn’t be heartbroken and constructive at the same time.

After an hour, during which time she had painted one wall yellow in a room in which she had, only earlier in the week, painted the other three walls blue, Abby gave up. She heard Sunny and Lilly come in from Naomi’s, but, not wanting any company, she went to her bedroom, where she hid by snuggling into her quilt and curling up in a ball. She slept until Sunny sent Lilly to get her for dinner, which was a relatively quiet affair. Abby turned in around nine and tucked herself into bed with a romance novel she’d borrowed from Naomi. As least someone would be living happily after, she thought as she settled in to read.

At ten-thirty, she put the book facedown on the bed beside her. The heroine’s efforts at winning back the man she loved were proving to be more than Abby could take. The last seduction scene had been hotter than anything Abby had ever seen in print. Though not hotter, she recalled, than the scene in the carriage house on Monday night. How, Abby wondered, could Alex walk away from her after the hours they had spent loving each other so completely?

He hadn't walked, she reminded herself, he had run.

More exactly, he had peeled out of the driveway in a jealous snit. Naomi had been right.

Abby swung her legs over the side of the bed and dangled her toes just inches over the carpet, trying to digest this fact. On the one hand, she thought, it meant that he did, in fact, care for her, enough that he did not want her to be with anyone else—not that she had been, of course. But, on the other hand, there was still Melissa, and apparently that was okay as far as he was concerned. He could spend four days in a distant city with another woman, but she, Abby, could not have a friendship with another man. And that simply wouldn’t do. As much as Abby loved him, there were certain things she could not accept. Playing by the old double standard was one of them.

Tomorrow, she would go to Hampton and ring his doorbell and tell him exactly how she felt. She would tell
him
…

The sound of tires crunching in the driveway made her sit
straight up in bed. Without looking, she knew it was Alex. On tiptoes, she crept into the darkened hall and down the dark steps in her nightshirt. After unlocking the back door, sh
e flew into the yard. At the corn
er of the house, she caught herself and forced herself to slow down. Remembering the cool attitude of the heroine in the book when she had to face down the hero, Abby smoothed back her hair and cleared her throat.

She picked her way carefully along the path—
damn,
when would she lea
rn
to put something on her feet?—to the car, where he still sat behind the wheel. Abby opened the driver’s-side door.

“I guess you came back to apologize to me,” she said.

He scowled and tried to grab the door handle to shut her out, but she leaned against the door to prevent him from doing so.

“You want to say you’re sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Ha!”

“And for assuming that something was going on between Drew and me. And you didn’t like it, even though you have something going on with someone else. But that’s okay. It’s the old double standard. Well, it’s not okay. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you think it’s okay for a man to have something going on with two women at the same time, but boy, oh boy, if you even
suspect
that a woman has something going with two men, well, then, that’
s a whole ’nother ball game…
”

“Abby.”

“A horse of a different color
…
”

“Abby.”

“The
pot calling the kettle black…”

“Abby, shut up.”

She did.

“I do not think it’s
okay
to have ‘something going’ with two different people at the same time. Makes no difference, man or woman, the rules are the same. How can you give
everything to more than one person? I know I don’t have that kind of energy.”

“I see.”

“Good. I need to know that you understand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Well?” He seemed to be waiting for her to tell him something.

“Well what? I understand.
I
understand that you are telling me that she was in your life before I came back and
that…
”

“Abby, who are you talking about?”

“Melissa, of course.”

“Why?”

“Why? Bec
ause she’s your… your…
”

“She’s my coworker.”

“Your coworker?” Abby stared at him dumbly.

“Abby, you knew that.”

“But I tho
ught that you… that she…”

“Abby, as far as I’m concerned, Melissa is a friend. I have absolutely no interest in her in any other way.”

“But she
…
I
mean, it’s obvious that she…”

“She knows how I feel.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I told her.”

“When?”

“Last Saturday night. After the wedding.”

“Saturday night? That was before
…
before we
…”
She gestured lamely toward the carriage house.

“Yes.”

“
I
see.” Abby cleared her throat.

“I’m glad that you do. So you can understand how I feel about you and Drew.”

“Alex, there is no ‘me and Drew.’ He’s my friend, maybe more like a long-lost cousin, or maybe almost like the brother I never had.”

“What about the ‘best night of his life’?”

“Wednesday was his birthday. I had a birthday dinner for him. And I baked a birthday cake. It’s something he never had. He had a terrible childhood, Alex. I was just trying to maybe help make up for some unhappy times in his life.”

“And you really think that Drew looks on you as a sister?”

“I know he does. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?”

“Because I cannot understand how any man could know you and not be hopelessly in love with you. Like I am. Like I have always been.”

His confession was so unexpected that his words all but struck her dumb.

“Abby.”

“What?”

“What are you wearing under
that
…
” He motioned to her nightshirt.

“Nothing.” Her eyes widened innocently.

“Nothing at all?” He swallowed hard.

“Nope.” She leaned back against the car door. “Nary a stitch.”

“I see.” He nodded almost grimly.

“The bed’s made up in your room,” she told him.

“I like that room,” he said without looking at her. “I like that bed.”

“It has a real feather mattress, did you know that?” she asked nonchalantly.

“No. I wasn’t aware of that.” He swung his legs out of the car, and she took a step back away from the door.

Alex closed the car door behind him and locked it. In the dark, Abby smiled as she backed toward the house slowly, knowing he would follow her.

As she turned to open the back door, she felt his hands on her waist, and she turned with her mouth half opened to him, no longer able to play the game. She was both devoured and devouring, and she thought her heart had beaten itself into such a frenzy that it would just spin out of her chest. Alex was all at once in her and through her and
around her. She felt his hands under her nightshirt, caressing her bare skin, and then she felt the clapboard of the house on her bare back and knew they would be in serious trouble if they didn’t get into the house soon. Very soon.