Loving Jessie (25 page)

Matt had spent the last fifteen years traveling all over the world, eating exotic foods—he swore he’d actually eaten grubs once, she remembered with a shudder—but at heart he was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. He loved whatever she put in front of him, but give him a slab of beef and a baked potato and he was content, which was why she’d decided on plain comfort foods for tonight instead of going with her first impulse, which had been for something more elaborate involving shellfish, exotic and highly expensive ingredients, and every pan in the cupboard.

She glanced at the clock. Matt’s schedule was flexible, but he made it a point to call her if he was going to be at Gabe’s much past five o’clock. It was five-fifteen now, and he hadn’t called, so he would be home soon. If she put the potatoes in now, that would give him time to shower and change clothes and relax for a few minutes before dinner was ready. They usually ate in the kitchen, but she’d set the dining-room table, using her grandmother’s china and silver. He was sure to ask her what the special occasion was, arching one brow in that way that always made her want to jump his bones.

Her plan was to draw out the suspense, to enjoy his curiosity and savor the anticipation as long as possible, but she knew herself well enough to know that there was a distinct possibility she was going to throw herself at him before he was halfway through the front door and blurt out the news that they were going to have a baby. Well, either way was good, she decided, smiling so hard that it made her face hurt.

The mellow chime of the doorbell made her jump. She wasn’t expecting anyone, which meant it was probably someone selling either discount coupons for a local dry cleaner or the one true path to eternal salvation. She wasn’t in the market for either one, but, tonight, she was feeling mellow enough that she didn’t mind listening to either sales pitch.

“Reilly!” Her smile widened from polite to delighted.

“Hey.” He returned her quick hug as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I’m doing a remodel a couple of blocks away, and they keep changing their minds on everything, so I was just over there trying to get them to commit to one thing or another before my foreman lands in jail for homicide.”

“You know you’re always welcome.” Jessie squeezed his hand between hers for a moment, warm affection in her voice. “You want a cup of coffee?”

“Sounds great.” Reilly followed her into the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket. “Weather report says rain tonight, but, from the way the temperature dropped this afternoon, I’m thinking snow.”

“Sure.” Jessie shot him an amused look as she poured coffee into a mug featuring a row of puffins marching around it. “And then we’ll know hell really has frozen over.”

“We get snow now and again.” Reilly took the mug from her, cupping his hands around it to absorb the heat.

“I’ve lived in this town twenty years, and I’ve seen snow once. And even then, it was barely enough to deserve the name.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Reilly muttered. “It really is cold out there.”

“Face it, McKinnon, you’re a weather wimp.” Jessie gave him a look of friendly disgust. “Anytime the temperature drops below sixty, you start whining.”

“I do not,” he whined, and they both laughed.

Jessie started to pour herself a cup of coffee, remembered that she had to start avoiding caffeine and set the mug down again.

“What?” Reilly cocked his brow, making her realize that she was standing there smiling for no reason.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Just something I thought of. So, tell me about these wishy-washy clients.”

Reilly looked as though he might press for a better answer, then shrugged and started talking. Jessie listened with half an ear, catching bits and pieces of changed tile colors, one bathroom that became two, a kitchen that grew and shrank on a more or less daily basis, and a
couple who couldn’t understand why adding another hundred square feet to the children’s playroom should cost anything additional. She made the appropriate comments, but her mind was mostly elsewhere.

He was leaning back against the counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles, his hands cupped around the mug. It was a familiar pose, one she’d seen both him and Matt take more times than she could remember. His dark blond hair was a little tousled, falling onto his forehead in a thick wave. That was familiar, too. How many times had she wished she had the right to brush that lock of hair back into place, to run her hands through his hair, feel the thickness of it slide between her fingers?

She’d been sixteen when she first realized that her feelings for him were more than friendship, and those feeling had grown and deepened over the years, a constant ache in her heart. And now she was looking at him and feeling…what? She frowned a little, trying to put a name to what she was feeling. Affection, certainly. Love, of course. He was one of her best friends. But the ache wasn’t there. Jessie pressed her hand over her heart, rubbing a little as if searching for that familiar hurt.

When had it gone away? It had been there five years ago, a bright, hard lump in her chest as she’d watched him exchange his vows with Dana. And since then? It was hard to remember. It wasn’t as if she’d ever allowed herself to dwell on her feelings for him. They’d just always
been
there.

Hadn’t they?

“Hey. Earth to Jessie.” Reilly snapped his fingers in front of her face, making her realize that she’d completely lost track of what he was saying and had been standing there staring at him as if she’d never seen him before.

“Sorry.” She shook herself a little and conjured up a smile. “I didn’t mean to zone out on you.”

“That’s okay. The Carlsons are enough to cause brain fade in anyone.” He sipped his coffee and gave her a curious look. “You looked like you were thinking pretty hard about something.”

Jessie felt a quick little flutter of panic, as if he might somehow be able to guess what had been in her mind just by looking at her. She smiled and shrugged. “Nothing in particular. I had lunch with Dana today,” she added, groping for a change of subject.

“Did you?” Reilly’s expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes, a look of…pain that made her heart clench. Her own confusion was pushed aside. She reached out, setting her hand on his arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Reilly stared down at her hand, feeling something tight and hard in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so easily. Dana used to touch him all the time, a quick, light brush of her hand on his shoulder as she walked by, a barely-there stroke of her fingers against his face. It had been so long that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. His fingers knotted around the coffee cup, his other hand coming up to cover Jessie’s, pressing her closer.

“We’ve been friends a long time, Reilly. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He brought his eyes up to hers, reading the compassion there. For just an instant he was tempted to do just that, to tell her that he’d destroyed his marriage, but he didn’t want to see that compassion turn to contempt.

“It’s nothing. Nothing I can talk about,” he amended, catching her disbelieving look.

She hesitated, teeth worrying her lower lip. “Look, I
know it’s none of my business, and I’m not trying to pry but it’s pretty obvious that you and Dana…that something’s… Blast.” Her breath huffed out in a quick, exasperated sigh. “You just…maybe you need to talk to each other, Reilly. I know it sounds simplistic, but it really is important in a marriage.”

“And you’re speaking from your vast experience of a whole two months of marriage?” he asked, cocking one brow.

“Almost three,” she corrected, primming her mouth in a way that made him smile despite himself.

“Ah. Well, that extra month certainly takes you well beyond amateur status,” he said, taking hold of a lock of her hair and giving it a quick, teasing little tug.

“I’m due for my professional-married-person badge next week,” she said, and his smile widened.

She looked so serious, but her eyes were laughing. With her hair tumbling on her shoulders and her face flushed from the warmth in the kitchen, she looked really cute. No, actually, she was more than cute. She was pretty. It was odd that he’d never noticed that before. He’d known Jessie most of her life, but he’d never realized how pretty she was.

He brushed his finger across her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. Without thinking, his hand shifted to cup the back of her neck. He saw Jessie’s eyes widen, endless golden-brown pools. She was so warm, and he’d been cold for so long. So very long.

It happened in slow motion. Jessie saw Reilly’s head lower toward hers, and she knew what was going to happen. She couldn’t pretend. She could have drawn away, could have stopped it, could have obeyed the alarm bell that was ringing somewhere in her head. But she’d spent half a lifetime fantasizing about what his kiss would be
like, half a lifetime dreaming about having him touch her, having him look at her as a woman.

His mouth touched hers lightly, tentatively. Her eyes fluttered shut as her brain scrambled to sort out what was happening, what she was feeling. His lips were warm and dry. They felt…pleasant pressed against hers. Comfortable in a way.
Pleasant?
This was Reilly kissing her. After all these years of dreaming about it, he was finally kissing her. Shouldn’t there be fireworks and sirens? Maybe the earth shaking beneath her feet? She leaned into him just a little, steadying herself with the hand that still rested on his arm. He responded, his head tilting to deepen the kiss ever so slightly. And it was still pleasant, still comfortable. But it wasn’t anything more. Would never be anything more, she realized, feeling a little shock of realization.

She settled back on her heels, breaking off the kiss, her eyes opening to stare up at Reilly. His expression was stunned, as if he was just realizing what he’d done—what
they’d
done. Jessie opened her mouth to say something, though she didn’t know what, but before she could speak, Reilly’s eyes flickered past her, and she saw the color drain from his face.

“Maybe I should go out and come back in?” Matt said behind her.

J
essie jerked away from Reilly’s light hold, spinning around to face her husband. He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, one hand on the edge of the door, the other at his side, fingers knotted around the jacket he must have taken off when he came in the front door.

She’d never truly understood the concept of time freezing until this moment. The three of them stood there like a tableau from a bad melodrama. Matt in the doorway, rigid and silent. Reilly standing by the counter, coffee dripping from his hand, where it had splashed when she pulled away so abruptly. And she could imagine what she must look like, her face flushed, eyes wide and startled, mouth damp from Reilly’s kiss. All they needed now was some dramatic organ music and maybe a little pasteboard sign with the words
Caught in the Act
painted on it in curlicue script.

“Matt! I…didn’t hear you come in,” Jessie stammered, her brain scrambling to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she’d been kissing Reilly.

“That was pretty obvious.” He sounded so calm that she was almost fooled into thinking everything was going to be all right, that he’d somehow recognized that the kiss
hadn’t
meant anything. That he’d understand, the way he always seemed to.

But there was no understanding in his eyes or the hard set of his mouth. What there was was anger, swimming up in his eyes, turning them icy blue. She felt her mouth go dry, her heart stuttering with fear.
It didn’t mean anything
, she wanted to tell him, but she knew the words would seem empty and meaningless.

Reilly stepped into the silence. “Matt, this wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what it looked like?” Matt finished for him. He arched one dark brow, his mouth twisting in an ugly line. “It looked like you were kissing my wife. You want to tell me what part of that I didn’t understand?”

“Matt—” Jessie started toward him, one hand reaching out as if to touch him. His eyes shifted to her, and their expression was enough to stop her in her tracks. Rage. Ice-cold and burning at the same time. She swallowed and let her hand drop, relieved when his gaze shifted back to Reilly.

“I think it’s time you went home,” he said, stepping out of the doorway, leaving the exit clear.

Reilly turned and set his coffee cup on the counter. He stared at his damp hand for a moment, and Jessie moved automatically to get a towel, but he was already wiping the moisture on the leg of his jeans before picking up his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d draped it earlier. He hesitated, his fingers curling into the soft leather as he looked from Matt to Jessie and back again, his expression a mixture of guilt and regret and concern.

“Matt, don’t…do anything you’ll regret, man.”

Heat flared in Matt’s eyes, burning away that icy calm.
He took a quick step forward, and Jessie felt her heart stop. He was going to hit Reilly. Oh God, he was going to hit him. She moved without thinking, stepping between the two men, putting both hands out as if to physically stop Matt. His eyes dropped to her face, the anger flaring bright blue and hot as a furnace.

“Protecting him?”

“Protecting both of you,” she told him steadily. “If you hit him, it will only make it worse.”

“Hard to imagine that, Jess,” he said, his smile sharp enough to cut. But he stepped back, leaving a clear path to the door. He jerked his head at Reilly. “Get out.”

When Reilly hesitated, Matt bared his teeth in a feral smile. “Afraid I’m going to hit her, McKinnon? Like father, like son? You don’t have to worry. I’m not the one who has trouble with impulse control.”

Jessie heard Reilly’s breath leave him in a sharp hiss, as if Matt’s words had the power to draw blood. She had no idea what Matt meant, but it was obvious that Reilly did, and that the comment had hurt, just as Matt had intended it to.

“Please go, Reilly.” She wanted him gone before someone said something that couldn’t be forgotten, did something that couldn’t be forgiven. She needed to talk to Matt, to explain to him, though she wasn’t sure how she could explain it to him when she didn’t understand it herself. Still, she had to try, and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to listen to her as long as Reilly was there.

Reilly looked from her to Matt and then nodded. “I’ll talk to you later, Jessie.” He stopped in the doorway and spoke without turning. “Don’t be a dumbshit, Matt.”

Matt didn’t respond, and after a moment Reilly shook his head a little and continued out of the room.

He left behind a silence thick enough to taste. Jessie
waited for Matt to speak, waited for his anger to spill out. He had a right to be angry, she thought, nearly choking on her guilt. She’d been kissing another man. There was no excuse she could offer, no real explanation. She could hardly explain that kissing Reilly had really been a good thing because it had made her realize that maybe she wasn’t in love with him after all.
Oh yeah, that would
certainly smooth things over
.

She swallowed the hysterical urge to giggle and risked a glance at Matt. He was standing in the same place, just inside the door, so still that he hardly seemed to be breathing.

“Matt, it wasn’t what—” He turned his head to look at her, and she stopped, the words caught in her throat. She couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t what it looked like, because it had been exactly what it looked like. She’d been standing right here in the kitchen—
their
kitchen—kissing Reilly. She swallowed and tried to find the right words, the words that would make everything all right again. “It didn’t
mean
anything. It was just because…we’re friends.” As explanations went, it ranked right up there with the dog ate my homework, she thought, despairing.

“Funny, Reilly and I have been friends for almost thirty years, and I don’t think he’s ever felt the urge to stick his tongue down my throat.”

He said it with such icy civility that it took a moment for the words to register.

“He didn’t have his— It wasn’t like that,” she stammered. “Matt, I swear, it wasn’t like that.” She closed the distance between them, ignoring the anger this time, desperate to make him listen. “He just…we kissed, but it wasn’t like that. We didn’t… It wouldn’t have gone any further.”

“We’ll never know, will we?” he asked, looking down at her with those cold, cold eyes, his expression frozen, distant.

“Yes, we do know.” Jessie grabbed his arm, feeling the knotted tension in the muscles under her fingers. “
I
know. It was a stupid thing to do, and I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t, and it… Matt, please, talk to me. Yell at me. You’re angry, and you’ve got every right to be. Just don’t shut me out like this.”

Shut her out?
Matt stared down at her. He was the one being shut out. On the outside looking in. Looking in and seeing her in Reilly’s arms, seeing Reilly’s mouth on hers, her face turned up to his, eyes closed, body curved into his. Standing in the doorway, watching them, he’d felt his whole world shiver around him. The feeling had been so distinct, so physical, that, for a moment, he’d wondered if there was an earthquake, but it wasn’t the house tumbling around him. It was just his life.

“Matt?” Jessie’s fingers dug into his arm. He could see them there, but he couldn’t feel them. She was holding him, clinging to him, her eyes dark with worry. What did she want him to say.
It’s okay? No, of course I don’t
mind you swapping spit with my best friend? Sorry I interrupted?

He took a careful step back, forcing her to release her grip on his arm. Hurt flared in her eyes, and some distant part of his mind regretted that. But another part of him was glad. Why should he be the only one in pain? He drew a shallow breath, grabbing for the splintering threads of his self-control.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said carefully. His fingers knotted in the soft denim of his jacket. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

“So you’re going to leave?” Jessie’s chin came up,
and anger flared beneath the hurt. “I thought we agreed that that wasn’t the right way to handle things between us.”

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about the night she’d pushed him about inviting his mother for the holiday, the night he’d blown up and walked out. But this wasn’t anything like that. She’d touched a raw nerve that night, set off his temper, touched on fears he hadn’t even known he had.

“Talk to me, dammit,” she demanded.

“Not now. Not tonight.” She opened her mouth to argue and he cut her off with a sharp gesture of his hand. “No. I am not going to stand here and listen to you explain why you felt the need to explore Reilly’s dental work.”

“We weren’t—”

“Stop it!” He felt his temper snap, and, as if from outside his body, he saw his hand shoot out, long fingers closing around her wrist in a hold that stopped just short of being painful. “I don’t want to hear the details of exactly what the two of you were doing. You were kissing him. He was kissing you.” He laughed abruptly, a harsh sound that made her flinch. “Jesus, my wife and my best friend. If it wasn’t so fucking pathetic, it would be a joke.”

“Matt, please.”

“Please what, Jessie?” He used the grip on her arm to haul her closer, until only inches separated them. “Please tell you it’s okay? Please tell you I don’t mind? It’s not okay, and I do mind.”

“I’m not asking you to say it’s okay.” Her voice shook, but her eyes met his steadily. “I’m asking you to talk to me, to try and work things out.”

Matt grabbed for the shredded threads of his temper.
She wanted to work things out. That was a good thing, right? That was the mature thing to do. Only he didn’t feel mature. He felt hollowed out, empty. And he didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to hear excuses or explanations or apologies. Later. They could talk later. He would listen later. They would work things out later. Even with anger painting a red haze around everything, he knew he wanted that, wanted to work things out. But not right now.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He released his hold on her wrist and stepped back. “This is not the time to talk, Jessie.”

“Then when?” She put up her chin.

“You want to make an appointment?” The silky sarcasm brought color flooding into her pale cheeks. “Shall I check my calendar and pencil you in? Tuesday, one o’clock, discuss wife and best friend kissing in the kitchen?”

“Fine,” she snapped. “You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to hear an apology. You want to go off and lick your wounds in manly solitude, you go ahead and do it, but I’m still going to be here when you get back, and we’ll still have to talk about it.”

Matt hesitated. She was right. This wasn’t going to go away. Sooner or later, they were going to have to talk about what had happened. But not now, not when he felt raw inside and out. He wasn’t ready to listen to her tell him why she’d kissed Reilly, to watch her face and wonder if she loved the other man. He couldn’t handle that tonight.

Jessie waited, hardly breathing, willing him to stay even though she had no idea what she would say to him if he did. How could she explain what had happened with Reilly when she didn’t understand it herself?

“Don’t wait up,” Matt said, and for the first time he didn’t sound angry or sarcastic. He just sounded tired. She opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, but he didn’t wait, just turned and walked out. She stayed where she was, listening to the faint jingle of his keys as he scooped them up, then the quiet snick of the front door closing behind him. As if on cue, the oven timer buzzed, announcing that the brisket was done.

Jessie pivoted on one heel, staring almost blindly around the kitchen. The pie cooling on the counter, the pile of washed and trimmed broccoli ready to go in the steamer basket, chopped garlic cloves and olive oil sitting next to the stove. If she took two steps to the right, she could see into the dining room, the china and silver gleaming, candles waiting for the touch of a match. The smells of roasting beef and onions mingled with the sweet scent of chocolate from the pie and the complex bite of the garlic.

She swallowed once and then again as her stomach did a slow, ominous roll. She swallowed one more time before clapping one hand across her mouth and lunging for the nearest bathroom. What a perfect time for morning sickness to make its first appearance—at six o’clock in the evening, right after she’d just managed to single-handedly destroy her marriage.

Dana glanced at the clock. After six. Reilly was usually home by now. She hoped he wasn’t going to work late tonight. She smoothed her hands over the textured silk of her skirt and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. She’d spent a ridiculous amount of time picking out the black midcalf-length skirt and raspberry-colored blouse. Reilly had once said he liked the blouse, and, for
the first time in a long time, she’d dressed with him in mind.

She heard the garage door open, and her breath caught. Silly to be so nervous. It was only dinner out, unless he was too tired. It was something they used to do so often that she hadn’t given it any thought, but it had been months since they’d gone out together, months since they’d done anything together. They had to start somewhere, and a quiet dinner out seemed like as good a place to start as any.

It was foolish to look ahead any further than that, but, all afternoon, she’d been thinking about Jessie’s comment about what a good father Reilly would be. Considering the condition of their marriage, thinking about having a child was not only ridiculous but would require a medical miracle. Still, the idea lingered. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that having a child was going to hold a marriage together, but maybe it would give them a way to reach across the chasm that lay between them. Not that she was going to mention it tonight, but it was something to keep in mind.

Dana heard the door between the kitchen and the garage open and felt the flutter in her stomach deepen. Just dinner out, she reminded herself. No big deal. She could do this. She smiled at Reilly as he entered the living room, hoping he would be able to read something from that smile, though she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted him to see. Maybe just a simple welcome. Maybe that was enough to start.