Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

“How is that a problem?”

Her mother locked her fingers together, forming a bridge. “Falling in love and being in love are bedfellows, but they aren’t the same. We often think they are, but they’re truly not. Falling is just a way to float the idea, like a test of I love you. If you love him, you should tell him. Reassure him. He loves you so. Michael wears his heart on his sleeve for you, and a man needs to know he’s special. He knows he’s not the only one you’ve loved, but he wants to feel like he is.” She unlaced her fingers and stared at Annalise, her eyes holding her captive, softly demanding. “Does he feel like he is? The only one?”

Her gut twisted. He was the only one for her now, but perhaps she hadn’t exactly made that clear. “I really don’t know.”

Her mother patted her hand. “Make sure he knows.”

That night, she wrote to him. She wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to say those three words in a letter, but there were other things to say. Things that were as important.

The truth of all her fears.

When she was through, she dropped it in FedEx. He would receive it in two days.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT


Sometimes when you drive to a familiar home, you’re not even sure how you got there. You stop at the lights when they’re red, turn on the blinker when you take a left, and suddenly you’re there, though you can’t recall the drive. You know the route by heart. You’ve done it so many times it’s a part of you.

As Michael walked across the grass with his sister, his feet guided him in that same fashion along the path they’d traveled many times—a winding stone walkway, over spongy grass, then through a row of headstones, guarded by oaks and elms.

Shannon clutched a bouquet of sunflowers.

She came here often, leaving these flowers on their father’s grave each time. Today, he accompanied her. It wasn’t the anniversary of their father’s death, nor was it his birthday. It was just an average day, and that was why they came. To remember those who were gone. Both their father, and the baby Shannon had lost ten years ago.

“You hanging in there?” he asked, eyeing her belly.

She nodded. “I wish I could speed up time, though. Fast forward four more months and have the baby in my arms, to know he or she is safe and healthy, and alive.”

He draped an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, me too,” he said, rather than giving her a platitude. Everything will be all right. He hoped it would, but both he and his sister had seen enough to know those sorts of statements were pointless.

The morning sun rose in the sky, and soon they reached their father’s resting place. Michael read the engraved words out loud, as he always did when he came here with Shan. Thomas Darren Paige. Loving father.

“He was,” his sister said.

“He was.”

Shannon set the flowers at the base of the headstone, then kissed the granite. Michael’s throat hitched, watching his sister. He kneeled down briefly and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as tears streamed down her cheeks. She’d always been emotional; she was even more so these days while pregnant. Michael couldn’t fault her for it, either.

Soon she rose, wiped her hands across her cheeks, and plastered on a smile. “I’m all better now.”

He smiled back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Course you are, Shannon bean.”

“So tell me about Paris…”

“Ah…the elephant in the room.”

But he found he needed to talk about this black hole in his heart, and Shan was precisely the person who’d understand best. As they stood by the grave, arms crossed over chests, a cool fall breeze rustling the leaves, he shared the fears that had bubbled to the surface the last night in Paris.

“And I think I might be a total asshole who has no perspective, since I’m jealous of a dead guy,” he said, with a forced laugh as he finished the story.

She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “No, you’re not. You’re just in love, and it’s hard, but I don’t know why you’re so worried she can never love anyone but her husband.”

“How is it even possible for her to love like that?” He gripped his chest, as if grabbing at his heart. “I’m so fucking crazy for her I can’t imagine ever feeling this way about anyone else. How can she do it? She is the great love of my life. How will I ever be anything to her that comes close?”

Shannon parked her hands on his shoulders. She was tiny, and he towered over her small frame, but in that moment, she was the strong one. “You are my big brother who I have always looked up to, leaned on, and relied on. You’ve been like a watchdog, looking out for all of us. But you’ve forgotten to take care of yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, not denying it. “But what does that mean?”