No One But You (2 page)

“Well, I think he’s really something,” Sunni gushed. “So down-to-earth. Not to mention incredibly good-looking.”

“I know where you’re going with this.” Mariah turned and waved at the reporter waiting for her. The sun had disappeared behind gathering clouds. “I’m not going to see him again, and even if I did accidentally bump into him, I’m not interested.”

“Just hear me out. You’ve been single a long time. There are good men out there. I’m thinking Wyatt Royce might be one of them.”

Sunni didn’t know him like Mariah did. A drop of rain fell, brushing her cheek as she glanced over her shoulder. No sign of Wyatt. She’d lost him in the crowd. Emotion lodged in her throat, feeling strangely like loss.

How foolish was that? There was no way she and Wyatt were ever meant to be.

“Mom, it’s time to go or we’ll be late.” Jake strode into the kitchen dressed in his team sweats, dragging his duffel with him.

Mariah turned her attention back to stacking plates in the dishwasher. “I’m ready. All I need is my coat. Do you have all your stuff?”

“Yep. I triple-checked. Guess what I found?” Something clanked against the counter. A flash of silver caught her eye.

Ugh, no.
She groaned. Not that picture from high school. She refused to look at it. “I should have tossed that thing ages ago. I don’t know why I didn’t. It’s just one I’d forgotten about.”

“Like I buy that.” Jake hooked his gym bag over his shoulder and grabbed his coat. “I think he still likes you.”

“What a thing to say! Wyatt Royce was over me long ago, I assure you.” She dried her hands on the towel slung over the oven door handle. “Why are you so interested, anyway?”

“Curiosity, Mom.” There was a tell-tale sparkle in his eyes. “I can’t picture it. You, my age? It boggles.”

“Why? You’ve gone through the yearbooks. You’ve seen those pictures of me as a teenager.”

“Yeah, but pictures don’t tell the whole story.” He led the way through the house. “Mr. Royce would know all the good stuff about you.”

“There is no good stuff. Just boring, straight-A me.” She wriggled into her jacket, remembering the girl she’d been, so in love with Wyatt. After a few quick months, they’d broken up and he’d left town.

“Not going to believe that for a second, Mom. I looked him up on the internet.”

“You
what?
”

“It’s no big deal.” Her son bounced out into the crisp night. “Not unless you still like him.”

“No! Absolutely not.” She closed and locked the door. “How could you do such a thing?”

“It was easy. I just typed his name into a search engine.”

“Funny. That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s no big deal, Mom,” Jake repeated, circling around the SUV parked in their driveway. “He’s megarich. He was on the cover of last month’s
Financial Weekly
magazine. FYI, he’s not married.”

“That’s information I don’t need to know.” Honestly. She hit the remote and the locks popped. “Get in, smarty.”

“Hey, I’m just making conversation.” Jake dropped into the front passenger seat. “I saw the way his eyes got all bright and shiny when he looked at you.”

She settled behind the wheel. “Must have been an optical illusion.”

“Yeah, right.” Her son rolled his eyes. “I’m thinking he’s interested. Hey, you could have married him instead. That makes him my almost-dad. Funny, right?”

“Really hilarious.” The engine roared to life. She shifted into Reverse and twisted in her seat. Of all the people she could have run into today, why did it have to be Wyatt? Headlights shot through the darkness, so she waited for the approaching car to pass. It pulled up short and swung into the driveway next door.

Looked like the Lindstroms were home. Mariah backed into the street in a quick arc, spotting the family emerging from their vehicle. Tension radiated from the husband like heat from a fire, and his wife walked behind him, silent, her head down. Their young daughter trailed behind, her footsteps dragging. It wasn’t the first time Mariah had noticed the family’s deep unhappiness. She had caught Lyn crying, hands to her face, on her back deck last week, and had gone over to help.

That used to be me.
She gripped the steering wheel, gave the car a little gas and zipped by the house. One last glance at the husband, hands fisted at his sides, brought it all back. Jasper’s anger, Jasper’s misery. Living like a second-class citizen in her own home.

She would never trust a man, she vowed as she nosed the car down the street. Not ever again.

* * *

He couldn’t get Mariah out of his head. He hated that he’d upset her. She’d tried to hide it, but couldn’t, not from him. Wyatt stared out the condominium’s windows at the city lights sparkling in the dark.

“What do you think of the property?” The Realtor’s high heels tapped on the marble as she sashayed into view. “It’s a quality building in a good location. The bank is willing to negotiate. High-end real estate like this is hard for them to unload.”

“It’s a good deal.” He took another look around the cavernous, high-ceilinged living room. It was just what he’d been looking for…but it wasn’t what he wanted.

“We can write up an offer and see if we can nudge the asking price.” Lauren, the Realtor, tapped closer. “We won’t know until we try. Should I get my paperwork?”

“No. This isn’t the right place for me.”

“Then I have three more properties to show you tonight. Maybe one of them will be just perfect.”

“Hmm.” Noncommittal, he ambled across the room, his steps echoing. He’d been putting off buying a place to live for years, ever since Delanie had asked him to move out of their Manhattan home. It had been hotel living since then. “I’d like to look at some houses.”

“But you were quite clear—“

“I know, I was, and you’ve selected some fine properties to show me, but I’ve changed my mind.” Maybe seeing Mariah today was what had done it, along with her son and his talk of basketball. Wyatt had been wanting to join a league. Maybe it would be nice to have his own court and shoot hoops in his backyard. A little grass, a few trees, something that could be a real home.

If he could ever find that again, that is.

Mariah. There he went, thinking of her once more. It looked as if she had a good life. A great kid, an impressive job and a dedication to the shelter he found most admirable. Seeing her today—

“Mr. Royce?” Lauren’s voice sharpened, finally snaring his attention.

“Sorry.” He shook his head, scattering his thoughts, but those of Mariah didn’t budge.

“Give me a minute with my laptop and I’ll find you a few houses to see.” Intent on her work, the Realtor pulled a small computer from her bag and set it on the marble counter of the kitchen island.

Was he really ready to look at houses? What would he do, rattling around in one all by himself? It wasn’t as if his son could visit him.

Mariah’s son was sure a great kid. Wyatt couldn’t help admiring her life. Chances were she’d be sitting in a gym somewhere right now, watching her son play. The dribble of balls on the court, the squeak of shoes on the floor, the shouts of the kids as they barked instructions, set up an offensive, pressed in to score… Pain crimped his chest as he remembered those days.

Those lost, golden days.

“How about something like this?” Lauren nudged her laptop screen in his direction.

He glanced at the brick accents, portico, private gated entrance, and nodded. He had to start someplace. He had promises to keep, ones that weren’t easy.

But the best things in life never were.

* * *

“All right, lights out.” Mariah poked her head into Jake’s room. “It’s past your bedtime.”

“Just one more page,” he argued, head bent over his paperback, his dark hair tumbling across his forehead. Their aging dog, Hobart, snored lightly at the foot of the bed as the teenager kept reading, absorbed in his story.

Just yesterday he’d been was a little guy flipping through picture books and, yes, wanting to read just one more page. How did time pass so quickly?

“It’s thirty minutes after your bedtime, kiddo.” She padded across the carpet. “There will be time tomorrow to read.”

“The game was pretty good tonight, right?” His attention remained fixed on the book.

“Right. Your team did great. The captain, not so much.”

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad.” Jake laughed absently, reading away. “Tomorrow’s not a school day.”

“No, but rules are rules. Give it up.” She held out her hand and the closed book landed there, accompanied by a sigh. “Get some sleep, kid.”

She set the paperback on the nightstand next to a familiar looking volume. Her high school yearbook. That was curious. “Were you going through this again?”

“I wanted to get the two of you fixed in my head.”

“The two of who? Wait, don’t say. Don’t you even think it.” She grinned, snared the yearbook and turned off the lamp. Darkness fell. Hobart kept snoring. “I’m hereby banishing the subject of Wyatt Royce in this household.”

“How about in the car?”

“It’s a unilateral banishment. It covers all locations, including the car.”

“How about at school?”

“What part of ‘all locations’ didn’t you understand?” she quipped, heading for the door. “Severe penalties will be enacted for every mention of the banished subject.”

“What kind of penalties?”

“Terrible, unspeakable ones.” She reached for the door. “I can see you quaking from here.”

“Yeah, I’m real scared.” Jake’s sheets rustled as he stretched out. “I noticed you took the yearbook.”

“I had to. It’s as of this moment a banned publication. Good night, kid.”

“’Night, Mom.” Already he sounded sleepy. She shut the door as Hobart gave a yip in his dreams.

Alone in the hallway, she trudged down the stairs with the yearbook hugged to her chest. She hadn’t looked at it in ages. Wasn’t sure she really wanted to. She’d had enough of Wyatt for one day. If she opened the pages and flipped through them, seeing the teenagers they’d been, then she’d never forget the sight of him walking away from her today, and the twist of loss she’d felt.

But what if they’d never broken up? Instead of Jasper’s control issues, she would have had to deal with Wyatt’s instead.

She padded to the bookcase in the family room, where the photo albums were kept on the bottom shelf. She ignored the dust gathering—there was no time for housework because tomorrow was day two of the diaper drive—and slipped the yearbook into place alongside her other ones. She couldn’t resist pulling out a small blue album—Jake’s baby book—and taking it with her to the couch.

What a wee thing he’d been, so fragile and amazing. From the moment the nurses had put him in her arms, a well of love had risen within her, stronger than any force she’d known. She traced her fingertip along the button shape of his dear face, and gazed at those baby-blue eyes staring up at the camera Jasper held. That so, so special day had been marred by her husband’s impatience with the caring nurses, his self-importance, his loud, look-at-me voice. He’d been jealous that he wasn’t the center of attention, she realized now.

Yes, leaving that man was the smartest thing she’d ever done, and one of the hardest. She drank in a last long look at Jake’s innocent, sweet face, and the love within her strengthened, just as it did every time she saw her boy. In the end she’d been able to keep the promise she’d vowed to him when she’d first cradled him against her. To do the very best for him, so he could grow up happy. So he could grow up to be a good man.

The slam of the neighbors’ door cut through her thoughts. She closed the album and slipped it onto the shelf as the muted sound of voices shattered the peaceful silence of her home. Her stomach tightened. She remembered similar evenings when Jasper had been itching for a fight, jumping all over the tiniest things, perhaps needing a way to vent his self-hatred and self-anger.

Mariah rose to her feet, listening to the raging male voice. The exterior wall of the house greatly muffled his words, but the tone came through in a low, furious growl that reminded her of Jasper when he’d been working up to an episode. She snatched the cordless phone on her way to the sliding door, flipped on the outside porch lights and snagged a sweater she’d left on the arm of the couch.

Cold air fanned over her as she stepped into the night. A distant slam of a car door told her she was too late. A pickup engine roared and tires squealed as Roland Lindstrom gunned out of his garage, careening into the street. A woman’s thin sobs sighed on the wind.

“Lyn? Are you all right?” Mariah padded to the edge of her patio. The downward slope of the lot allowed her to see the shadow of her neighbor sitting on her side doorstep, hands to her face, elbows on her knees.

Mariah remembered how lonely it felt to be in those shoes. She waited, not wanting to push, but to be the friend Lyn so desperately needed.

He neighbor drew herself up with a final sniff, wiped her eyes, trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying. “Oh, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“It’s been a long day?”

“Something like that.” Self-conscious, the slender woman gave a strained laugh and stood. “How’s things with your boy?”

“Fine. Busy.” Mariah let her change the subject, remembering how embarrassing it could be to have curious neighbors witness her marital problems. “Jake had a game tonight. The other team gave them a run for their money. They had to work hard for the victory. Jake made the scoring shot two seconds before the whistle blew.”

“Sounds like a thrilling game.”

“It really was. How’s your daughter?”

“Emily’s doing better in school. She has a new reading teacher and that’s made a lot of difference.”

“Good. My best friend growing up had dyslexia, too, so I know how challenging it is.” Mariah eased open the gate, stepping into her side yard and across the property line. “I had a crazy day today.”

“I saw you on the news. Some fund-raising drive at the mall.”

“Yes. We’re doing it again tomorrow. It’s one of our more successful campaigns.” She didn’t add that government grants didn’t come close to meeting all the needs of their shelter, so raising money was a huge part of her job. Making sure Mary’s Place had the resources to help anyone who needed them was a responsibility she took seriously. “Looks like you have a swollen eye.”

“I walked into the door. Dumb me.” Lyn shrugged self-consciously. She was a sweet young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, with soft golden curls framing a pretty, oval face. Shadowed blue eyes blinked, as she obviously tried to hide her sorrow. “I’m such a klutz. Always have been. It’s annoying. I hope Roland didn’t disturb you.”

“It was pretty hard not to hear him, but I’m more worried about you.”

“Me? No, I’m just fine. Times are tough for him right now. He’s not always like this. It’s just that his new job isn’t going well. The economy.”