“Okay,” he said, and started down the hall.
When he came back, she was gone. He followed the sounds of movement into the kitchen and then into the laundry room, where she was putting all the bath things and the dirty sheets she must have taken off the bed earlier into the washer.
“Is there anything else I can help you do?” he asked.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said.
He hurt for the tremble in her voice. He’d caused it, and it made him miserable.
“It’s okay. I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’ve been known to do that. I’m the one who’s sorry for thinking I could have fixed this for us.”
She shut the lid on the washing machine, and then took a deep breath and looked up. She needed to be looking at him when she said this. He deserved that much.
“I already knew before you proposed that I was his only option. I had priced available long-term care facilities for Alzheimer’s patients, only to discover they began at five thousand dollars a month. Then I looked into regular nursing homes. Most of them won’t take Alzheimer’s patients because they require too much care, and the ones who do are just as expensive as the others. They don’t all take Medicare, and I couldn’t afford to make up the difference at the ones that did. His retirement money wasn’t enough, not even with his Social Security check added in. There were some nursing homes that would have taken someone like Dad and settled for whatever Medicare paid, but they looked like something from a horror movie. I wouldn’t house a dog there, let alone my father. All I knew was that what I wanted had to take a backseat to what he needed. I was heartsick and didn’t know what to do.”
“And then I asked you to marry me,” Bowie said.
“I panicked. I was angry at fate and sick at heart that I was going to lose you. I just said no, and then you were gone, and I told myself it was for the best.”
Bowie didn’t know what to say, but he knew how he was feeling, and he needed to put some space between them before he said too much.
“I want to stay and talk more, but I have a carload of groceries for Mama, so I need to get back.”
Talia stifled a groan. Was this where he told her it was too late? Her heart began to hammer. God, was this going to hurt as much as it had last time?
“I understand. Seven years is a long time. I’m glad you came by, though. I’m glad you understand, and I hope you don’t hold it against me anymore.”
Bowie frowned.
Was she trying to get rid of him? Did this mean it was too late for them to try again? He wasn’t giving up on her yet.
“What would you say if I said I wanted to see you again?” he asked.
Talia’s heart skipped a beat. “I would ask you why?”
“Because I do.”
“That’s not an answer, Bowie.”
He was afraid to say what he was feeling, but when he saw the tears in her eyes, he took a chance that it wasn’t too late and blurted out what was in his heart.
“I want back what we lost,” he said.
Talia gasped, and then her gasp turned into a sob as she walked into his arms.
When Bowie pulled her close, the seven years apart disappeared. He knew the curves of her body, the catch of her breath and what turned her on. This was what had been missing from his life. This was why settling down had never mattered to him, and why he’d taken any job, wherever it was, without caring how far he had to travel.
He kissed the top of her head, then tilted her chin and brushed his mouth across her lips so sensuously that she turned to follow the motion, desperate not to lose the connection. The second kiss was a deliberate onslaught, filled with hunger for what they’d lost.
Talia leaned into him, remembering what it felt like when he was inside her, remembering how crazy they’d been making love. Seven long years of sadness and misery, and all it took to break the nightmare was his mouth on her lips.
The kiss lasted until they were both aching for more.
When Bowie finally let go, Talia was shaking.
“This happened so many times in my dreams,” she said.
He took her hand and pressed it against his heart.
“Can you feel that? My heart is racing. I came home to such heartache, only to find a joy I thought was lost.”
Before he could say more, her father let out a moan.
Talia flew out of Bowie’s arms and headed to the living room on the run. Bowie was right behind her.
She leaned over the bed to check her father’s pulse. It was the same, slow and faint. Relief settled her jumpy nerves as she leaned down to straighten his covers.
“He does this sometimes. Erin says he’s not in pain. It just happens,” she said.
“Who’s Erin?” Bowie asked.
“His hospice nurse. She’ll be here any time.”
Bowie took that as his cue to leave.