Deeply, Desperately (24 page)

I checked the moisture on the Christmas tree. It was okay. My ornaments hung askew, thanks to the crooked trunk. I fussed with the silver garland and strands of cranberries.

"Is her mother going to move in with her?"

17 x 3 is 51.

"Her mother goes back to Arizona on Saturday."

"Is Cara going with her?"

"No."

I shook out the drapes, trying to achieve the puddle effect the designer pulled off so well. My attempt only caused dust particles to launch into the air. I gave up on the drapes, moved on to Sean's shoes by the door. I straightened them, rubbing at water spots with the hem of my robe.

I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from beneath the couch and pulled it out--I scanned the page. It was from Sarah Loehman's file; I must have missed it the other night when Grendel knocked the files over. I set it on the table.

"Who's going to look after her?" Because it had become clear over the past week that Cara needed extra care.

I was holding my breath, waiting for his answer. An answer that would inevitably change my life forever. I drew in a deep breath, spun around.

"I know what you're wanting to hear," he said. "But I can't say it."

My heart slowly sank.

"I just can't leave her alone. It's not right."

I bit back my reply. She had been more than willing to walk away from him, from his illness, from all the changes he'd had to make in his life after nearly dying.

But I couldn't really hold his stance against him. One of the things I loved most about him was his devotion,
his dependability, his compassion. Of course, I liked it more when those qualities were aimed my way.

Not something to be proud of, but the truth was the truth.

Black-and-white.

He came up behind me, kissed the curve of my neck, put his strong arms around me. "I'm trying not to say anything too sappy."

"I'm okay with sappy."

"Men aren't supposed to get sappy."

I drew my arms back, placing my hands on his rear, pulling him ever closer to me.

"If you keep doing that," he said, his hands skimming down my arms, raising goose bumps. "I might get a little sappy."

"Like I said, I'm good with sappy."

He untied my robe, turned me around. I looked into his eyes, those gray milky eyes I loved so much. I could see how torn he was, between what he felt was right and what he really wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Just know, Ms. Valentine, that even when I'm not here, my heart is."

A painful, welcome knot formed in my chest. It hurt how much I loved him. "That's pretty sappy."

He laughed as he slipped my robe from my shoulders. As I leaned up to kiss him, a kiss so full of passion, of heat, of love, that I could barely breathe, I knew one thing for certain.

I had to fight for him.

I just had to figure out how.

Later that afternoon, I stopped into the Porcupine. Raphael was just finishing a takeout order when he spotted me.

"You shaved!" I squealed.

He rubbed his jaw. "Oddly, I feel naked."

"You look much younger, Pasa," I said, trying to placate him.

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not falling for that."

"How's Maggie?"

"I can't explain it, but she's happy with this old man."

"Can you ask for anything more?" I asked.

"You were supposed to argue that I'm not old, Uva."

"Can I tell you you're crazy instead?"

He tipped his hands like scales. "Okay."

I kissed his bare cheek. "I'll see you Saturday night?"

He shook his head. "Maggie and I are heading out of town, a little place in Maine."

My heart warmed for him. "Can I start pestering about a wedding date?"

"Only if you want me to start prying into your love life."

"You know, weddings are rather personal. I think I'll just wait for an announcement," I said, headed for the door.

"Smart girl, Uva."

Upstairs, I took the steps to the third floor to SD Investigations to check on Andrew. He was back at work and smiled shyly when he saw me.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

"Much."

"Good."

"Sean's not in," he said. "Had an emergency call."

I knew. He'd left Thoreau at my place and was headed to Cara's apartment. Apparently, her mother had never arrived Monday night because of the storm and decided to stay home. Cara was in desperate need of Sean's help for something or other.

I was beginning to have my doubts Cara had ever called her mother. I knew Mum would have found a way to move heaven and earth to be with me if I was sick. But my suspicions might have something to do with doubts about how sick Cara really was.

Sam appeared in the doorway. "Thought I heard voices. You need something, Lucy?"

"Just checking on Andrew."

Sam smiled rather smugly. "Come on back, have some coffee."

"All right." I owed him a thank-you.

I followed him down the hall to the kitchen. He filled two mugs and motioned me into his office.

"Andrew looks well," I said.

"Told you so. He's completely healed without so much as a phone call to Rosalinda."

"Actually," I began, "you might want to know that you sent Rosalinda a big bouquet of imported flowers and a very generous severance check on Monday. She was quite grateful when I made my follow-up call ensure the office juju would return to normal."

"Juju?"

"You owe me five hundred dollars, by the way, and you can thank me later."

He snorted. "I don't know about that."

"Why?"

"Andrew's a really lousy receptionist."

I laughed. A picture of Sam's twin girls sat on his desk. They were adorable, with dark pigtails and blue eyes. "I wanted to thank you," I said.

"For?"

"For having Lizzie stay with Cara the other night."

"You're welcome." He shook his head. "What a mess all of that is. I can't believe Cara called Sean this morning to help her clear her locker at Milton Hospital. Did you know she's taking a leave of absence? And she's taking advantage, if you ask me."

"I know," I murmured. She'd be home all day, every day, just thinking of ways to keep Sean at her beck and c--"Wait. Did you say Milton Hospital?"

"Yeah. She's worked there for years. Why?"

My hands started shaking. I set my mug on his desk.

"Lucy? Are you okay?"

Milton Hospital. The Handmaiden letters. And
with that I knew. I
knew
. Cara had been sending me the letters--probably pinching the paper from the registration desk. This explained why the letters had dropped off in the past week. Her focus was currently on Sean and digging her claws into him.

This was just the ammunition I needed to stay in this fight.

"Lucy?"

"Hmm?"

"Your face is flushed."

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

I jumped up. "I have a battle to win." And I knew just how I was going to do it.

His eyes widened. "Um, good luck?"

"Thanks. Gotta go. I have a meeting."

I hurried downstairs, Cara weighing heavily on my mind. I tried to let that go for a while because I had other pressing issues. Em had called an hour ago, asking to meet with Marisol and me. I suggested my office because it was central to all of us. Something was up, and I only hoped it was the news Marisol and I were wishing for.

Suz was on the phone and waved as I passed through to my office. My father's office door was closed, but I could hear the rumble of voices from within. He was booked solid with clients until March. It was a wonder he could even find time for his own love life--yet he managed. Again. And again. And again.

I was surprised to find Marisol already in my
office, spinning in my office chair, her black hair flying out like a six-year-old's on a merry-go-round. "So what's this about?"

"Em didn't tell you either?"

"Not a word. Just asked me to meet her here. Do you think ..."

"I'm hoping."

"I'm trying not to get
my
hopes up."

"You're making me dizzy." I set my things on the coat rack and added, "Do you think he told her about the prenup?"

She stopped spinning. "Something big must have happened, right? It's not like her to call spontaneous meetings in the middle of the day."

My intercom buzzed. Suz said, "Em and Joseph are here."

Marisol's eyes went wide. "She brought
him
?"

I pressed the intercom button. "Please send them back, Suz."

"Why?" Marisol asked.

I didn't know, but suddenly I had a gaping pit in the hollow of my stomach.

Marisol stood as Joseph marched into the room, Em behind him.

I crept up next to Marisol, linked our arms. We were in this together.

"Em?" I asked.

She looked like hell. Her hair was frizzy, she wore no makeup, there were bags under her eyes.

"Hi," she said lamely.

Marisol said, "What's this all about?"

"Just what I wanted to know," Joseph snapped.

Em winced. "I'm sure there's a good explanation."

He glared at her. She wouldn't look him in the eye.

"What's
what
about?"

Joseph pulled a compact disc from his briefcase, tossed it on the table.

I swallowed hard. "What's that?"

"Just a little home movie," Joseph said with a sneer.

Preston was right--he did look wormy.

"Thought you might be interested, since you both star in it."

"We what?" I said.

Em's eyes drifted closed, then opened. "Our apartment is under video surveillance."

He said to her, "And you thought I was being paranoid, thinking someone had been in the place, that someone was following me. You were following me, weren't you?"

Marisol hedged. "A little."

"And you broke into our loft?" he pressed.

"We had a key," I said feebly.

"Why?" Em asked.

I cleared my throat. "It's like this," I started.

"Well, you see," Marisol said.

Joseph tapped his foot. He actually tapped his foot. The jackass. "What?" he demanded.

"We don't like you," I said.

"Not a bit," added Marisol.

Em gasped. Joseph's face hardened. He said, "The feeling is mutual."

Em gasped again.

"You didn't find anything, did you?" Joseph snapped up the disc and put it back into his briefcase.

"Condoms," Marisol said bravely. "Care to explain those?"

Em said, sounding as though she were in pain, "Joseph likes to be extra safe."

His cheeks flared red. "You do not need to be explaining our lives to them."

"But--"

"There are no buts, Emerson."

"We have to tell her," Marisol said to me.

I nodded. We did.

"Tell me what?" Em asked.

"Well, the other night at Spar," I began.

"You followed me to Spar?" Joseph sputtered.

"On Friday," Marisol said.

"And Saturday night," I added.

"We had this idea, you see." Marisol's hands flew as she spoke. "About using bait."

"A decoy," I corrected.

"A decoy," Marisol said, "to, you know, see if Joseph was faithful."

"Entrapment?" Em asked.

"That sounds so harsh," I said, realizing Preston might be right about shades of gray.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Joseph asked. "Because I am faithful. I'd never cheat."

"Is that true?" Em asked us.

Joseph stomped his foot. "Why are you asking them? I'm the one who just told you I don't cheat."

Em's cheeks began glowing a soft pink.

I wanted to reach out and slap Joseph's forehead.

"Yeah, it's true," Marisol grumbled.

"But at Spar, we did learn something," I started, but was interrupted by Em.

"Friday night? Wasn't that the night you had dinner with your parents?" she asked him evenly.

The red spread to his ears. "I, ah, just dropped in for drinks. After."

"Ah, ah, ah," Marisol said, wagging a finger.

"What?" Em asked. "What's going on?"

"He was clearly uninterested in the decoy," I said, "but that might have been because he was so focused on the documents he was signing."

"Documents?" Em asked.

"For a prenup." Marisol winced.

Em's eyes widened.

"I can explain," Joseph said.

"I'm sure you can," Em murmured.

From the doorway, someone cleared his throat. "Is everything okay in here?" my father asked, his eyebrows drawn together in agitation.

"Depends on who you ask," Marisol said.

"Explain, Lucy," he said.

"Well, you see, Marisol and I are convinced that Joseph isn't the right man for Em, and, well, we had questions about his character, so we kind of, you know, followed him around--"

"It was all my idea," Marisol piped in.

"I'm not surprised," Joseph said.

"That's not true," I said to Marisol. "You can't take all the blame."

"Ahem." My father never had much patience for this sort of thing.

"We got caught," I filled in. "And now the worm is trying to wriggle off the hook."

"The worm?" Joseph looked ready to explode.

Marisol flipped her hair. "If the slime fits."

"That's it. That's just it. The last straw. It's either them or me, Emerson," he said in a raised voice.

Her mouth fell open. "You're kidding."

"I'm not."

My father raised an eyebrow and spoke as if he were bored. "I believe that's an easy choice, seeing as how you two don't match at all. Em, he's not your true love."

"And just how do you know that?" Joseph demanded.

Dad's eyes darkened. "Do not question me."

Joseph shrank, then quickly recovered. "I'm leaving." He headed for the door. "Em."

She looked at him for a long minute, then stepped next to me, linking to my free arm. And just like that, we were seven years old on a beach with red and blue lips. We'd come a long way from not having a care in the world, but right here, right now, it still felt as though we were never going to let go.

Joseph stormed out.

Dad said, "Good riddance."

I folded Em into a hug. Marisol joined in. "We're sorry," I mumbled.