mother to any of her subsequent four husbands. And I seriously doubt the newest ring she slipped on her finger is going to keep her eternally devoted to my newest stepfather!'
Long moments passed as they stared at one another. Tourists and locals walked past, but Grey paid them no heed. His jaw clenched hard. God, he hated the mixture of incredulity and shock etched on Mariah's face, but she'd wanted honesty. And he'd only given her a small dose of the unattractive truth about his past.
'Your mother has been married
'Yeah,' he said roughly, vividly remembering two of those divorces as a youth, and the confusion and resentment that grew with each separation. 'And following every breakup, my mother always fell into a deep state of depression, ignoring everything and everyone, including me, to wallow in self-pity until another man came along and gave her the smallest bit of attention. She'd cling, thinking herself in love, wanting that elusive emotion so badly she imagined it even though it wasn't there.'
It had been a vicious cycle of men and relationships with his mother, one that Grey had been inevitably thrust into the middle of. And with each new beau of his mother's he'd grown more belligerent and hostile in an effort to hide his pain. His own father hadn't wanted him, had verbally degraded him, and his mother had been so wrapped up in her own search for happiness and acceptance he'd become nothing more than a nuisance, an extra piece of baggage she had to tow along for the ride.
His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. 'Quite a track record in the Nichols family, wouldn't you say?'
She gave her head a brisk shake, compassion softening her features. 'It's not
'Exactly.' Nor would it ever be, he'd vowed long ago. If he didn't get married he wouldn't have to worry about divorce. And if he never had children, there wouldn't be anyone to suffer from his lack of parenting skills, or from his inability to love.
Disgusted with their topic of conversation and how terse he'd been with Mariah, he turned and walked away, his focus on the clear blue lake beyond all the shop fronts.
Mariah started after him, not about to let him take the easy way out. He couldn't make a statement like that then walk away, leaving her teetering on the edge of something far more profound. As difficult as this might be for him, it helped her to understand his reasons for keeping his heart under lock and key. And possibly give her the ammunition to battle his fears.
She halted his stride with a hand on his arm. 'Grey, wait.' His body stiffened, and when he finally met her gaze, the misery and emotional turmoil reflected in his eyes yanked at her heart.
'Oh, Grey,' she whispered, wishing she had the ability to chase away the dark shadows eclipsing his eyes. 'I'm so sorry.'
His frown deepened. 'Why should you be sorry?' he asked, his tone gruff. 'My mother's failed relationships aren't your fault.'
He'd misunderstood. She was sorry for the young boy who'd seen the worst of relationships and marriages. She was sorry that experience had taught the man he'd become to be wary of commitment. And she was so very sorry he thought of marriage as something distasteful, rather than the joyful union she knew it could be. Her own parents and grandparents were proof that love went a long way in a relationship if two people were willing to work at it.
She'd seen the best of marriage. He'd seen the worst. Could she blame him for being so cynical?
'And it's not your fault, either,' she said gently. 'You aren't responsible for the choices your mother made.'
He averted his gaze, but not before she caught a glimpse of vulnerability. 'Maybe not, but my mother's short- lived relationships and my father's resentment of his marriage are proof that love, if such a thing even exists, doesn't last.'
She sighed in frustration. A light breeze blew off the lake, ruffling his sable hair across his forehead and flirting with the skirt of the summer culotte outfit Grey had bought for her. She waited for a more significant comment from him, but when it was obvious he had no intention of talking further, she decided it was time to make him listen.
Touching her ringers to his jaw, she turned his face back toward her, ignoring the ominous slant of his brows. 'Nobody ever said marriage was easy, Grey. My parents had plenty of disagreements, but they communicated and worked through their problems. That's how you make love last Marriage is a commitment, a pledge to respect one another and compromise when you both want different things. You can't ignore obvious problems or bail out of the relationship at the first sign of trouble.'
'You bailed on me,' he hastened to point out.
She couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips. Only Grey would think of their breakup that way. 'That's different. You left me nothing to fight for. If you gave me something,
He cocked a brow. 'Something like marriage?'
She was gratified to see that the mention of marriage hadn't caused him to turn pale this time. Hope bloomed within her. 'I'd like your love first.'
He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Then he pulled in a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped his flow of words with a hand pressed gently to his warm lips. She didn't know what he'd been about to say, but she didn't want him to shatter this fragile moment with a denial or excuses. That, and she wasn't finished with him.
'Don't say anything, Grey. Just think about everything I've said, okay?' She didn't wait for a response because she didn't need one. 'You know how I feel about you and that hasn't changed in the time we've been apart. But I don't want you to tell me you love me because you think it's something I need to hear. When and if you ever say those words I want it to come from your heart.'
Removing her hand from his mouth, he pressed her palm onto his chest Beneath his beige knit shirt his heart beat at a rapid pace, almost frantically. 'What if that never happens?' he asked uncertainly. 'Love, that is.'
It would, she thought, if only he'd allow himself to search within his soul for what was already there. An emotion most likely rusty from neglect, but with time and care, his ability to love could be something brand-new and wonderful for him. 'If love never happens for you, then I guess we weren't meant to be. And if love does happen, you'll know it without any doubts.'
Skepticism shone in his eyes, and his hand tightened over hers. 'Dammit, Mariah, I don't want to lose you, and I hate being without you.'
She smiled. 'That's a real good start to love.'
He looked surprised, but not totally adverse to the thought. He drew her closer with a possessive sweep of his hand along her spine. An instantaneous heat flared within her, matching the fire in his eyes.
'I hate it when another man touches you,' he growled low and deep in his throat.
She laughed, feeling light inside. 'I think that's called jealousy, not love.'
'I still hate it,' he muttered, his lip puffing out in a boyish pout.
She smoothed a hand along his shirt collar. 'You're sharing, Grey, and communicating. That's part of what love is.'
A wicked sparkle entered his gaze. 'I'll show you some communication.' Boldly he stroked a hand over her bottom and squeezed.
'Grey!' Her admonishment attracted the attention of a few people nearby, reminding her they were in a public place. Heart pounding, she pushed away from him, attempting to skirt his advances. It was just like him to take the edge off their serious conversation with playful overtures, but she truly didn't mind.
'I'm talking about the verbal kind of communication,' she chastised in a low voice.
He reached for her again and she tried to elude his grasp. But he was agile and quick and she ended up right back where she'd started. In his arms. He gave her a lascivious look that made her toes tingle. 'Yeah, you like it when I get verbal, don't you?'
A thrill of excitement rippled through her. Oh, she did. Shamelessly.
'Ah, Grey.' She sighed. Doing what came naturally, she slipped her arms around his neck. She didn't care who glanced their way, because she knew they looked like a couple in love, even if Grey wouldn't admit to such an emotion. 'What am I going to do with you?'
