Part 47 (2/2)
”Yep, he has a heart after all.”
”Thanks.”
”I'll be at the funeral tomorrow.”
”You don't have to--”
”I want to. And so does Becky. By the way, my kids are falling in love with that dog.”
”No problem with the apartment?”
”No. He squeaked in under the thirty-pound pet limit.”
”Can you keep him for a few more days?”
”The kids will be ecstatic. In fact, if you aren't going to keep him ...”
”I'm sure Nicky would be happier with your children. I'm gone so much.” Yet it was another loss for her. She had been getting used to Nicky's presence.
She hung up and felt a tear wandering down her face. She sat down on the bed. The tears started coming. Not because of the dog. Or perhaps because of the dog. For some reason, it was easier to cry over a small loss than a huge one.
The tears came in torrents. She hated that, but she couldn't stop. Her father. Her mother. Her home. And now the d.a.m.n dog.
”Meredith?”
She turned away from the phone. And from the door where he stood. She tried to stop the flood of tears.
”Has something happened?” His voice was warm with concern.
”Something else, you mean?” She hated the self-pity in those words.
He entered the room and pulled her into his arms. ”It's about time for a cry. You can't bottle it up forever.”
”It's ... the dog,” she mumbled. ”It's so darn stupid.”
”Did something happen to Nicky? I thought he was staying with Sarah.”
”Sarah ... wants to keep him,” she babbled.
She waited for him to make some smart comment. Here she was crying over a dog she'd kept all of a few days.
He didn't. He folded her in his arms and just held her.
”It's time, love,” he said. ”Let it go.”
She yielded to the compulsive sobs that shook her even as she absorbed the comfort of his embrace. The tears came and came.
Finally, they slowed. Seconds later he was wiping the tears from her face with such gentleness that she started to cry again.
”I never cry,” she choked out. ”Not like that.”
”Then you're due,” he said.
”Thank you.”
”Any time,” he said with a lightness belied by the caring in his eyes.
'Love'. He had called her ”love.”
A meaningless endearment. Nothing more.
She straightened, brushed away the remaining wetness from her face. ”I'm sorry. I'm not usually--”
”h.e.l.l, I would worry like h.e.l.l about you if that hadn't come,” he said with a smile that was as intimate as a kiss.
She knew her lips were probably trembling, and she was sure of it when he leaned over and kissed her with such tenderness that she feared she would explode in tears yet again.
Instead she put her arms around him and the kiss deepened. He tore his mouth away and rained kisses up and down her face, licking the tears she knew still dotted her face.
She felt silly and stupid for the outburst and yet she felt better as well. Only now did she realize how she'd bottled so many emotions deep inside. She supposed she had gone through every known major one in the past two weeks. Grief, fear, terror, confusion, regret, loss.
She swallowed hard. ”I think I can use a cup of coffee.”
”Laced with brandy, I think.” He pulled her close to his side and they walked together to the kitchen. She ached to taste his kisses again, but she also feared it. She wanted him far too much.
He was addictive. Too addictive.
She waited as he poured whole beans into a coffeemaker and a strong aroma filled the kitchen. An occasional tremor ran through her body, remnants of the crying jag. The emotions were still there, rumbling under the surface like a volcano with repeated eruptions.
She willed them to behave.
In minutes, he had steaming cups of coffee in front of them.
Then he sat down and studied her face. She knew it must be red and blotched and swollen.
His lips turned up in a quizzical smile. ”Why must you be so pretty?”
”But I'm not.”
He stared at her with astonishment. ”Then you've never looked in a mirror.”
”My mother ...”
Something like understanding crossed his face. ”I hope you don't compare yourself to her.”
She didn't answer.
<script>