Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) (15 page)

“Well, just because you never meant it, doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. If she says you did, then you did. Only Carrie can decide if she’s going to let you make it up to her,” Shane said. “And Michael, this might seem like psych mumbo-jumbo to you, but you could be blocking your memories of her from college for some reason. Or she could be blocking you by something she’s doing. What was your first impression of her when you met her?”

Michael thought of Carrie walking into the conference room three years ago. She had seemed completely calm on the outside, but when he shook her hand, it had trembled in his. He had looked into her eyes and could have happily drowned in the turquoise depths of them. Even that first day, his longing had made itself known. He had recognized his mate.

“I knew she was mine,” Michael said, his voice husky. “I saw her and I just knew. I have no logical way to explain it. It was devastating when she pushed me away.”

Shane studied his brother’s sad face and his gut tightened with anguish. It was a mirror of his Dad’s face when his mother had divorced him. Love given and not returned was just damn painful. His Dad got lucky in finding Jessica.

If this didn’t work out for Michael, his emotional brother might never completely heal this pain. But then Michael also needed to see that he caused this same pain for Carrie, and also likely for Erin.

“It seems very bizarre that you felt such a strong connection to Carrie during the recent time, but had no recollection of the past,” Shane said. “Finding out why might shed some light on things for you.”

Michael picked up his beer and drank. “Maybe if she’d been blonde, I would have—
oh shit.
Shit. Damn it. That’s why. Her whole family is blonde. She was a blonde in college. Shane, she’s probably been dying her hair. She’s not a real brunette.”

Shane nodded and shrugged.

Michael broke off his tirade to look at Shane in shock. “Why would Carrie dye her hair all these years?”

“What have you done with every blonde in your life, including her evidently?” Shane asked. “You don’t need a PhD in psychology to figure out that one, bro. Think about it. You didn’t see Dad dating a blonde the second time around either. Visual clues are very strong. Maybe stronger with us because of our artistic sides.”

“You think I was loving and leaving blondes in college because I was mad at Mom for fighting with Dad and hurting him? That’s bullshit, Shane,” Michael said.

“No—that’s textbook, Michael,” Shane said, shrugging. “It makes sense now that I think about it. It’s probably why I can never remember their names after I’ve slept with them. I want them, but then after—I don’t want them, like
really
don’t want them. I used to genuinely like all types of women before Mom and Dad starting having problems. Since Dad starting dating again, blondes don’t even interest me now. Damn. That’s interesting. Textbook, but interesting.”

Michael shook his head, unwilling to believe that Carrie’s issues were all his fault. “If she is dying her hair, I’m not the only reason. She’s pushing away from the men in her family too. Her whole family is blonde. I can certainly understand wanting to separate herself from them. Maybe it isn’t me.”

“Who knows? Carrie probably doesn’t know. Motivations can be complicated,” Shane said in the middle of his second beer. “It should be fairly easy to find out for sure if Carrie is dying her hair. Leave the lights on next time or catch her in the shower and check. I doubt she dyes it everywhere. Most women don’t. Not all the blonde women I’ve been with were real blondes.”

“So who’s messed up more, me—or Carrie?” Michael asked, defeated.

“Wrong question,” Shane told him. “You need to be asking if both of you want this relationship to work out enough to do what it takes to heal and let go of the past.”

And that, Michael thought, was definitely the big question. He was sorely afraid Carrie’s answer was inked in the iron-clad prenuptial agreement with the divorce escape clause.

“I never meant to hurt Carrie,” Michael said sadly “Hell, I never meant to hurt anybody. I was just living my life and doing what I thought was okay.”

“Of course you didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Shane said reasonably. “You’re a great guy. All humans mess up. All you can do is work through it if it’s worth it to you. Otherwise, you two just need to let go and move on.”

Michael stood. He was going home. He couldn’t let go when he’d waited so long to have her. Whether Carrie wanted their relationship or not, he did.

“Thanks for the beer and the psychoanalysis. If you put any of this in your book, I’ll kill you. Carrie wants me to sue for money later, but I’m an instant gratification kind of person. I love you, but I’ve learned the hard way about being indiscreet.”

Shane laughed as Michael stomped to the door to leave. “Where are you going? Are you alright now?”

“No, I’m not alright, but I’m going home where I belong to sleep with the right woman one more time at least,” Michael said tightly. “I’ll think about the whole blonde thing tomorrow. I’m going home to a brunette tonight. I prefer to keep my illusions for now.”

“Michael—I believe you’ll figure out how to fix this, but just in case, I’ll put a good word out into the universe for you. It listens to me,” Shane said, standing and gathering up the empty beer bottles.

“Thanks. I hope you find your dream woman,” Michael said. “Really—I’m not joking this time.”

“I didn’t think you were. Now get the hell out of my house and go home. I need to work,” Shane said, following Michael to the door and locking it behind him.

No sooner had the door clicked shut behind his brother than Shane’s cell phone went off. He looked at the display and saw his friend’s name.

“I’m trying to work here, Joe,” Shane barked into the phone, his thoughts still on Michael.

“You’re working too hard,” Joe said. “Come out and play, Shane.”

“Can’t—I have a deadline and it’s looming large, dude,” Shane told him.

“Not tonight, man. You know nothing’s happening on Monday. How about Friday night at Broadway’s instead?” Joe said.

“Friday is eons away from today, but I’ll see what I can do. You got a hook-up you’re chasing there?” Shane asked.

“Yeah, but if she’s a no-show, I figured we’d grab a couple brews and get to hang anyway,” Joe told him.

Shane looked at the ceiling. It probably wouldn’t hurt. As slow as the novel was progressing, he was going to be climbing walls by Friday anyway.

“Sure. I’m in. What the hell,” Shane said on a sigh. “Now leave me alone so I can get something done.”

“Dude. You’ve not been your sweet self lately. You need to get laid. I warned you that going without was going to have some dire consequences,” Joe said, laughing. “Your creativity is as dried up as everything else. A good time would make things flow again.”

“How would you know? You almost never see any action,” Shane replied. “I’m the one who gets hit on. You’re the one who has to troll.”

“On that sour note, I’m leaving you to your celibate hell. See you Friday. Drive yourself. I’m going to need my car,” Joe said, laughing. “Later.”

Shane hung up the phone and sighed.

*** *** ***

It was nine-thirty when Michael let himself into the house, which he immediately noticed was totally silent. Looking in the kitchen, he saw no signs of activity. The dinner dishes were done and everything was in its place. The clock on the coffee pot verified the time.

Michael found no lights on in the living room or hallway either as he made his way down it.

It wasn’t like there were many places to hide in fifteen-hundred square feet. He knew Carrie was somewhere in the house because her car was still in the driveway.

Passing by what he was coming to think of as the baby’s room, he saw several swatches of paint in the reflection of the old nightlight he had found and plugged in to test earlier. Jessica was trying out colors. He’d planned to show them to Carrie tonight, but the argument had stopped him.

He stopped when he saw the master bedroom door was partially open. Michael wanted to read it as an invitation because he needed to believe it was one.

Then through the door, he heard Carrie sniffling quietly into the pillow. If he hadn’t already felt bad for storming off earlier, her crying would have made him regret it.

“You can come in,” Carrie said briskly, still sniffling. “You don’t exactly walk lightly. I heard you when you came home.”

Michael walked to the bed and looked down at Carrie curled on her side with her back to him. “I went to Shane’s to have a beer.”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m not into keeping tabs on the men I live with,” Carrie said, her own irritation matching his. “Are you coming to bed or going to stand there all night staring at me in the dark?”

“Got any concealed weapons under there, General?” Michael asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

Carrie laughed and sniffed again. “Only one way to find out.”

Michael unsnapped his pants, happy to let the rest of what he was wearing drop in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

“Did you take your medicine?” he asked, pulling the band from his hair and tossing it on top of a book beside her habitual glass of ice water on the nightstand.

Mingling their personal items seemed a very intimate act to him tonight. He wondered if Carrie ever thought about such things. He was fairly conscious of every detail at the moment because he was getting ready to climb into bed with a woman and was unsure of his welcome. It was a new situation for him.

“Yes, I took my damn medicine,” Carrie said, irritated further that Michael’s first nice words to her after their fight were about the weakness in herself that she still resented. “Stop nagging me about it. It wasn’t like I planned to forget it this morning.”

Michael laughed at her complaining, and it helped him find his nerve. He climbed into bed, curling his cool body around her warm one that was wearing short pajamas almost as silky as her skin was. He slipped one arm under her head and curved the other over her until his hand rested on the place his child was growing inside her.

She leaned back in his arms and sighed, but even in the rapidly falling darkness he could see the hot tears running down her face. They made his gut clench as he held her tighter.

Her crying was his fault, he thought, watching the tears roll down her cheeks onto a pillow already wet. She was dabbing them with a handful of tissue, but not making much progress in keeping the bed linens dry.

Hell. He should have stayed to hear her out, no matter how much he didn’t want to. He shouldn’t be getting angry every two seconds when she was already dealing with so much. He just didn’t seem to be able to help himself.

Remembering his discussion with Shane, Michael tucked his face into Carrie’s hair, rocking her gently as he tried to soothe her. “I don’t know how to fix this pain between us, but I’m never going to like myself again if we can’t find some compromise. Even if you—even if you have to leave one day, I don’t want to keep hurting you or being hurt by your opinion of me for the time I have you.”

His words only made her cry more. Michael whispered her name as he kissed the side of her face.

Every time Michael was kind, Carrie wanted to believe he was as good as he seemed to be. Every time he held her, it got harder and harder to keep herself protected from the pain she knew he could cause what was left of her heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you either, Michael, but I can’t make the past just disappear because you apparently decided to forget it. Surviving what happened between us in college is a big part of who I am. This pregnancy—this second accident—forcibly reminds me of the first one,” Carrie said quietly, so quietly she wasn’t even sure Michael heard her.

“I can understand that,” Michael said, the empathetic words harder to say than he realized.

Carrie sniffled and hugged his arm tighter. “Erin didn’t bother me today. It’s impossible to really care about any of the other women in your life when I’m the one with you and they’re not. I guess it’s that
possession is nine-tenths of the law
stupid thing. I’m not worried about slaying your dragons. But I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to get over what happened in college.”

He rolled her into his arms and kissed her, trembling in his restraint. “So fight with me then if that’s what it takes for you to have peace. Punish me with hateful words until you exorcise the pain I caused. I swear I’ll remember that next time we fight. Just try to believe I didn’t mean to hurt you, and just—just don’t go back on your word about marrying me.”

“You should know me well enough to know I wouldn’t do that unless it was a matter of life or death,” Carrie said, laughing through the sniffles. “I’m tougher than our fighting, and I really do want you to have a legal claim to your child.”

But not to you, Michael thought sadly. I want it to you, too. How do I get that?

“Okay,” Michael said, biting back his frustration as he reminded himself to be grateful.

He rubbed her stomach with a shaking palm. “I’m sorry we fight so much. I know it’s mostly my fault, but I’ll deny it if you tell anyone I admitted that to you.”

Carrie laughed and pulled his arm around her tighter, feeling Michael’s embrace get stronger. It was almost enough to drive the memories away.