“I think it did.” He remembered the wounded pride on his brother’s face. “The idea that his girlfriend cheated on him with me, a guy he considered so beneath him, shattered his ego. I’m sure he hiked to the falls full of piss and vinegar. Mark’s dare gave him a chance to reclaim his manhood. If he hadn’t been reeling from shock, he probably wouldn’t have been so rash.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. What-ifs will drive you crazy. Joe’s ego is on him, not you. Trust me. I’m sorry your last conversation with Joe went so horribly, but you loved him your whole life, and he knew that. We both need to let go of whatever we wish we’d done differently.” She blinked, as if she’d revealed too much. “Alec, our history is complicated. I get that. But I can’t keep hiding from life, either. It feels like I’m on the brink of something new and exciting. Maybe we’ll find our way forward together, but not if we keep looking back.”
“It’s not about looking back, it’s about confronting mistakes. We have to talk about Mark’s suicide.”
“Why? Why make me talk about that when I work so hard every day not to remember? It took eighteen months to sleep through the night without nightmares.” Her eyes glistened as her expression tightened. “I still can’t always shut out that final image of him when it wants to surface. But I’m tired of everything in my life being defined by what happened with Mark. All I want is to stop thinking about him. Please, Alec. Please don’t keep bringing him up.”
She tugged the wedding band off her finger and tossed it on the coffee table. They both stared at it while she wiped a tear from her cheek.
Shaken by her breakdown, he paused. Ignoring the past wasn’t healthy, but maybe it wasn’t his choice to make. She’d handed him an out. One that enabled him to stick to his original plan to do anything he could to secure her happiness. If that required him to keep his mouth shut about Mark, at least he’d be loving her the way she asked to be loved.
“Okay.”
Even teary she looked beautiful. “Thank you.”
Now what? Neither of them knew the first thing about taking steps forward. They sat together in awkward silence until she interlaced her fingers with his—her hand soft and warm in his large, scarred one. Only then did the impact of the situation fully register. He was holding hands with Colby, talking about the future. Their future.
His heart beat out her name like a favorite song. He wanted to make love to her more than almost anything. But the ring she’d thrown on the table like some eerie gauntlet warned him to exercise patience. Her pushing herself to be ready wasn’t the same as her actually being ready.
His thoughts strayed, searching for some kind of redemption for his secret. A few minutes passed before he said, “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” She shot him a flirtatious look. Honestly, he couldn’t get used to that. He stared at her, savoring the fact that she liked him.
Collecting himself, he said, “Let’s do something to honor Joe and Mark.”
She straightened, eyes alert. “Like what?”
“Maybe host a fund-raiser at A CertainTea in their names to raise money for some cause?” He shrugged, assuming the idea would appeal to her.
“I love that idea.” Her perfect little nose flared. “We could start a memorial fund.”
“A fund is even better.” He pulled her against his side, offering his shoulder as a pillow. Alec’s father would hate having Mark’s name tied to Joe’s. Truthfully, Alec didn’t love the idea, either, but he owed it to Mark, and to Colby. “We’ll have to think of a good cause. Do you still make gift baskets and deliver them to the children’s hospital?”
“Sometimes, but we should think bigger.”
“Whatever you want.” He’d made a promise to see her happy, and he would. He’d worry about his dad’s reaction to all of this later.
Chapter Ten
Colby’s muscles loosened as if she’d just stretched and sighed. Her body fitted against Alec’s as perfectly as one of his beloved puzzle pieces.
Although she’d spent the better part of her week daydreaming about more kisses, simply resting in the crook of his arm seemed enough for now. No pressure. No expectations. She stayed there, listening to Alec’s heart beating, letting her mind wander aimlessly, like a butterfly, fluttering from thought to thought.
One thought: he smelled like her favorite fabric softener—eminently snuggly. Another: the late-afternoon light made her cream-colored furniture look peach. A third equally random thought: despite the hot dog she’d chowed down earlier, she was hungry. That one broke through the silence. “I’m starving.”
He muttered a curse, his body tensing to stand. “My dinner reservation at Beast.”
Colby tightened her grip around his waist. “Can you cancel?”
He paused before resting his cheek on her head. “Yeah.”
A little smile formed. She wanted him to stay even though she didn’t know where the night might lead. In truth, it didn’t need to lead anywhere else. His comforting presence was more than enough.
“Want me to whip up something to eat?” he asked.
“I doubt I’ve got much to work with.”
“You forget who you’re talking to.” He tapped her shoulder so she’d let him up, which she did with great reluctance.
With long, assured strides, he crossed the room to her refrigerator. She watched his confidence fade as he took inventory of its contents. If memory served, there should be jelly, butter, some mango chunks, broccoli, half-and-half, and maybe some slices of Muenster cheese. Maybe. Oh, and seltzer. Grapefruit-flavored seltzer.
Without a word, he closed the door, wearing a faintly dazed expression. He then rummaged through her cupboards, where he likely spied a lot of tea, a half-empty bag of Cheetos, a few slices of bread, and some random oils and spices.
He turned, his face aghast, head shaking in dismay.
“This is the most pathetic kitchen pantry I’ve ever seen. Ever, Colby.” For Alec, food had always been a serious business. “Don’t you eat here?”
“Sometimes. But this month I’ve been filling up on everything you’ve been testing, or eating with my mom. I haven’t been to the store in a while.”
“I’ll say.”
Colby shrugged. “Let’s order pizza.”
“No.” He scowled. “I won’t be defeated.”
“Alec, there’s nothing here.”
His eyes lit at the challenge. “Refill your wine. I’ll have something ready in twenty minutes.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” She sat forward, recognizing a man on a mission.
“I have to prove it to myself.” He smiled, shrugging.
From her distant spot on the sofa, she watched an amazing flurry of activity. One pan sizzled with seasoned oil, another with butter. A third roiled with boiling water. At one point, he worked at the counter, giving her a clear view of his face. The image transported her back in time to his mom’s kitchen, where she’d often found him working with his mouth slightly open and his tongue pressed against his top row of teeth—a picture of concentration. The fact that hadn’t changed made her smile.
Her curiosity piqued when he grabbed the bag of Cheetos.
He looked up as she craned her neck. “No peeking!”