Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement) Page 14
“I just was surprised to find someone else taking up room in my heart. I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting it with Brady.”
Cassandra could hear it in her voice. Why? Why had she fallen in love with someone who couldn’t love her back completely? Again!
“Why is it bad?”
“Because he loves his dead wife. The guilt he bears for killing her will always outweigh everything. I’d always have to share him with her. How would you like to compete with an angel?”
Mackenzie said softly, “What is it with you and sharing?”
Cassandra didn’t know. “I’m hopeless.”
“No. I do know hopeless when I see it. This isn’t it.”
Cassandra looked in the mirror, at herself. At a woman who would love only the parts they could give. Who could be happy with just those parts.
She said quietly, and she didn’t know if she was trying to talk herself into it or Mackenzie, “We can’t all have the fairy tale. Some of us have to accept as good as it’s going to get.”
And maybe as good as it could get wouldn’t be that bad. She’d thought, this whole time, that when Shane fell in love with his bird, that it would mean he would love her less. That he would have to love her less.
But her heart wasn’t divided.
She could love both Shane and Brady. She did love them both.
She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to.
When they came out, Ethan was waiting for them. Pacing back and forth in front of the ladies’ room, and when Mackenzie smiled at him, there wasn’t any kind of embarrassment in her eyes.
“Why didn’t you send someone in?”
He was by her side in two large steps. “Are you okay?”
She stroked his arm, sidling into him as best she could. “We were just catching up. Girl talk.”
Ethan’s eyes flared. “Now I’m really worried.”
Mackenzie laughed. “I know how to girl talk.”
Cassandra shook her head. “No, she doesn’t.”
Ethan turned those green eyes on her and out spilled all her secrets. “We were arguing about my sorry love-life.”
Ethan peered at her for one more long moment, then relaxed and stroked his hand down Mackenzie’s belly. “Okay. Maybe you’re right and this will be the last one. I don’t think I can go through this again.”
“You don’t think you can do it again?”
“Pregnancy is hard on a man.” He held one elbow out to Mackenzie, the other for Cassandra, and when he was sandwiched between them, Mackenzie said, “You’re going to pay for that.”
Ethan smiled at the proof that everything was okay with her. “I know.”
Brady stood next to Cassandra and watched the O’Connor’s car pull away. Back to New York, and Brady felt a little like Shane. Slightly glad they lived on the other side of the country.
Glad he didn’t have to look at anymore brainless smiles from Cassandra.
It was unnerving.
And he’d laugh with her about it, get her to admit she liked a little friction in her love life and Ethan O’Connor would have never made her happy, except she’d stopped talking to Brady sometime during the week.
At first he’d thought she’d just been busy with her friends. With the kids, and he’d been glad he’d been busy himself.
He said, “Are we going to talk about it?”
She didn’t look at him. Hadn’t looked at him in days.
“Talk about what?”
“About whatever is wrong.”
She waved at Rodrigo and he jerked his thumb at her car. When she nodded, he grabbed the keys and went to get her car.
“Nothing is wrong.”
Brady looked up at the sky, then closed his eyes. He almost smiled. It had been a long time since a woman had told him nothing was wrong in that tone of voice.
He didn’t say anything until her little peach lady pulled up in front of them, didn’t say anything even then.
Cassandra said, “I need to go home. I haven’t been home since they got here. Shane’s flowers are going to be dead again.” She whispered, “I just need some time alone. To think.”
“About what?”
She looked at him then. Looked, and he knew something was wrong. He’d done something. He just had no idea what.
“Are you coming back tonight?”
“I know you can’t sleep without me beside you. I’ll be back tonight. I don’t know what it means that you can’t sleep without me, but I’ll be back.”
Brady fought the anger, fought the embarrassment. He didn’t need her pity.
“I didn’t sleep for six years without you. I can do it again.”
Her lips thinned and she walked around the car to where Rodrigo was holding her door open, his face politely blank.
“Do you really think you could do it again, Brady? Do you still have a choice? Because I don’t think deciding between no sleep and always sleeping with me is much of a choice, do you? There’s no choice there. There’s only need and what you’ll do to meet that need.”
Brady couldn’t help it as his eyebrows rose to his hairline, couldn’t help it that he was standing there looking completely clueless.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The only choice I have is to accept or deny. My only choice is the rock or the hard place. My only choice is the frying pan or the fire. My only choice is to be happy with what I can have or to be miserable without it. Because I can’t change what I can have.”
He lifted his hands in the universal sign of incomprehension. “What does that mean?”
She sat down in the car, slamming her door shut and leaning over to look at him through the window. She said something, flicking her hand to emphasize whatever it was she was saying.
He shouted, “I can’t hear you!”
She sat back up, and all Brady could see was her hands gripping the steering wheel. She finally rolled the window down and shouted back, “I just need to think!”
Rodrigo came to stand next to him, watched with him as Cassandra peeled away.
“What the fuck just happened?”
Rodrigo clapped him on the back. “It’s good to see you with woman trouble, Jefe. What is life without a little woman trouble?”
The fog of confusion cleared a little as Brady’s frustration turned to anger.
As his anger triggered his need.
He sucked in a breath through his nose, blew it out through tight lips. He rolled his neck, turning away from the road and looking at his hotel.
At the people streaming in and out. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists.
Goddammit!
He would never beat this beast. He would never be free from this monster. The monster who waited for any tiny chink to dig its fingers in and free itself. The monster who waited patiently because it knew it only needed a moment of weakness to escape.
All Brady could do was sweat the want out. All he could do was work his muscles so hard that the endorphins would calm his need.
He would blow off his meetings, change his clothes, and go hit the gym.
Brady clenched his jaw and said, “Get my car, Rodrigo.”
Rodrigo grinned. “You going to go after her, Jefe?”
“Yes.”
Ten
An hour later, Brady pulled into Cassandra’s driveway.
He’d driven like a mad man for half a block and then had pulled over and raged in his little Z. He’d screamed and beat the steering wheel. He’d punched the roof until his knuckles bled. He’d pummeled his thighs until they were numb. He’d fought until he’d sat breathless and spent. Until he was too tired to do what the monster wanted.
And then he’d cried.
His shoulders bent and shaking, the tears falling unchecked. And he understood what Cassandra had meant.
He had no good choice.
No choice except to keep fighting or to give in. What he wanted was to be free, and that would never happen.
He
didn’t know what Cassandra had been talking about when she’d said she didn’t have a choice. But he knew what it felt like.
Brady sat in his car and looked at her little bungalow, at the little dead flowers in her front yard. And then he turned the car back on and reversed out of the drive.
Another hour later, Brady was digging in the dirt with his hands. Pulling out dead flowers and carefully planting the pansies he’d bought at the hardware store. He hadn’t known what they were called, just seen them and grabbed them because they were pretty.
The sun was hot on his back, and he loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves.
The door opened slowly and Cassandra came out to watch him. Her eyebrows pinched together, her arms folded.
“What are you doing?”
“Planting new flowers.”
“. . .Why?”
“Because these looked sad.”
She watched him another long minute, then went to turn the hose on enough for a trickle. She crouched beside him, watering the flowers he’d planted.
She looked at his hands, lightly touching his bruised and raw knuckles, and he said, “I was thinking.”
When he glanced at her, she was fighting a smile. “That’s my kind of thinking.”
He took one of her hands in his, twisting it back and forth. “Then how come I don’t see any signs.”
“Because I think with dishes, not my hands.”
He dropped her now muddy hand. “Smart.”
“Sometimes. Most of the time, no.”
He popped another pansy out of its little black container, pulling at the roots gently. “My wife loved to plant flowers. She loved making her world beautiful. Said it gave her a little glow, and I never understood what she was talking about until now.”
Cassandra stood up, turned the water off, and went inside. Shutting the door behind her so quietly that Brady knew she wanted to slam it.
He said loud enough for her to hear through the window, “Okay. I’m starting to get a glimmer of what you needed to think about.”
He heard an inside door slam, and it made him feel better. Better enough to smile at his little purple flowers.
Good enough to plant the rest of his flowers, to water them, all the while looking forward to doing a little thinking with Cassandra.
They could probably do some pretty good damage between the two of them.
When he was done, and as clean as he could make himself, he followed her inside, sitting down on the couch when he saw it had been the bathroom door she’d slammed. Just sat, and waited.
He closed his eyes, cataloging all the protests his body was making. Hands and knuckles. Thighs. Even under his fingernails where some dirt was stubbornly clinging.
He was sore, and he felt good. At peace, once again. His monster chained back up.
He’d fought and he’d won. And he was grateful for it.
He heard the bathroom door open, and then Cassandra was curling up beside him on the couch. Not touching, but right there next to him.
He listened to her breathe and thought about taking a nap, and she said, “I didn’t care about your perfect wife when I wasn’t in love with you.”
Brady’s eyes blinked open. Then because he didn’t know what else to do, he blinked again.
“. . .Love?”
She laughed, short and bitter. “Sucks, huh?”
He picked his head up to look at her, and her skin was washed clean, her hair slightly damp in a ring around her face. Her eyes bright with tears.
He said again, “Love?”
She sniffed. “I don’t want to love another man who can’t love me all the way back. Another one whose heart can’t be all mine. Another man I have to share.” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back and whispering, “I’m tired of sharing.”
Brady looked at her. Looked at the sad turn of her mouth, the freshly scrubbed pinkness of her face.
Love?
They were fun. And she was right, they were need.
But love?
She turned her face toward him and slowly opened her eyes.
Another short laugh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes again. “I need a picture of that look. For my scrapbook.”
Brady shut his mouth with a snap and tried to say something that didn’t sound horrified.
And out came, “Why do you love me? And why are you telling me?”
She shrugged. “It’s love, Brady. Why hide it? You don’t have to love me back.”
He gurgled and she patted his hand. “And I love you because.” She tipped her head. “Why do I love Shane? There’s things about him that I like. And there’s things about him that I hate. Why do we decide to love who we love? I don’t think it’s a decision; it just is. But you do decide what you’re going to do about that love.”
“There has to be a why.”
“Does there?”
“Yes.”
She opened her eyes, meeting his straight on and saying, “Do you want to know my why?”
He was shaking his head before he’d even thought about it.
She smiled slightly. Like she’d been expecting him to say no but still a little sad at it.
She sighed. “I don’t want to tell you why anyway. I haven’t decided what to do about this love yet.” She flicked her eyes at him. “I wanted to think about it.”
And next time she shouted at him that she needed to think about something, he’d let her do it without chasing after her.
She lifted one hand, weighing her decision in the palm of her hand. “I can have part of your heart and be happy.” She lifted her other hand. “Or have none of it and be miserable. That’s my choice.”
He said, “I don’t want to hear this.”
“I know. This is your punishment.”
He put his head in his hands and tried not to laugh. Tried to figure out what he was feeling here.
Horror? Wonder? Disbelief?
She said, “At least I can have mind-erasing sex with you. A possibility of children, if you can ever look at one without cringing.” She grinned. “Oh, now, please let me get my phone so I can take a picture of you looking like you’re going to faint.”
She gripped his thigh, using it to push herself up, and he said, “I can’t have anymore children. I had a vasectomy.” He squeezed his fists. “I don’t want anymore children.”
Cassandra stopped. She stood there, one step from the couch, and stopped. Stopped smiling, stopped breathing.
All the blood drained from her face, and Brady stood, wrapping his arms around her. Taking her weight as she drooped.
He didn’t love Cassandra. Wasn’t sure how he felt about her loving him, but he hurt watching her. Hurt seeing her take this final blow.
He’d taken away the possibility of making a family and home with him. Taken away all hope.
He whispered, “Baby, I’m sorry. So sorry.”
And he was. He wished he could give her everything she wanted. Wished he could give her something, just one thing, that she wanted.
And he couldn’t give her anything. He didn’t have a heart to give. Didn’t have a way to give her a child even if he one day wanted to.
He picked her up, ignoring his aching muscles. Carried her into the bedroom to lay her gently on the bed.
Brady climbed in beside her, curling around her and whispering over and over how sorry he was. Stroking her hair and trying to heal a hurt he’d just dumped on her. Without thinking.
He’d been surprised. Surprised that she was thinking of children with him.
She’d surprised the truth out of him.
He’d surprised the hope out of her.
Brady called Shane. Because who else did you call when you needed to be taken care of except the person who loved you.
“Can you come to Cassandra’s? I. . . I hurt her.”
“Excuse me? You did what!?”
“I don’t want to leave her alone. Please come.”
“I’m coming right now. But believe me, we will be having words.”
Brady hung up. He deserved words. Wasn’t sure how scary words from Shane were going to be, but he deserved them.
He sat down on the bed beside Cassandra. She hadn’t spoken to him. Hadn’t looked at him.
He hadn’t known that she’d wanted children. Hadn’t known she might want children with him.
He’d lain with her all day and all night. And all day and all night.
She’d hardly stirred. Hadn’t eaten.
He’d stopped saying sorry when his voice had given out. Stopped trying to get her to eat, to drink when she turned away from him.
Brady heard the key turn in the door and he whispered, “Shane’s here now. He’ll know how to heal your hurts.”
Shane came running into the room, crawling into bed without bothering to kick off his shoes and scooping Cassandra up in his arms. “Oh my God, Cass. What did the big, scary man do to you?”
He crushed her to his chest, flicking a finger between him and Brady and saying, “Words.”
Brady nodded. “I told her the truth.”
Shane squinted his eyes. “What truth?”
Cassandra croaked, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear it again.”
Shane looked between them. “You didn’t touch her?”
“Only with the truth.”
“Fucking truth. Why can’t people just lie. White lies say I love you.”
Cassandra sniffed, snuggling into Shane’s arms, and Brady said, “I’ll come back after my meeting. I just can’t miss this one.”
He’d missed a handful already, and if he could miss this one, too, he would.
Cassandra shook her head. “I have to think.”
Brady opened his mouth and she turned her head to meet his eye.
She had to think about what to do with her love, and he was suddenly glad. Glad she knew he couldn’t give her anything she wanted.
He nodded. He turned away, stopping at the door to her bedroom and gripping the casing. Wanting to turn around and say something that would help her make her decision.
Except he didn’t know what he wanted her to decide.
So he left.
Shane at least got her to eat a little soup.