Greg had gone above and beyond during their visit to present a unified front—and as far as she could tell, her parents hadn’t picked up on the strain between them.
But if it had been nothing more than an act, it would be difficult to sustain during the four days her mom and dad would be around. They’d soon realize not all was perfect in paradise.
So working through a few issues tonight, as he’d promised they would, was necessary—even if the thought of that discussion ratcheted up her tension again.
Rather than fussing with her hair, she combed it back to air dry. No sense delaying the inevitable. She might as well hear what Greg had to say.
She found him at the kitchen table, brow pinched, two beer cans in front of him.
Her heart sank.
“They’re full, Rachel.” He picked one up to demonstrate. “These are the last two in the refrigerator. I’m not going to drink them—and I’m not buying any more.”
That was the best news she’d had in weeks. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Why don’t you sit?” He motioned to the chair beside him and pushed the cans to the side.
“I want to thank you for how you acted while my parents were here.” She slipped into her seat. “I don’t think they suspected we’ve been having issues.”
“It wasn’t an act—and I want to talk about those issues . . . and how to fix them.”
She sighed and tucked her damp hair behind her ear. “I have no idea where to start.”
“I do. We start with me. That’s where the blame for all our problems falls.”
“Losing your leg wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but how I reacted was—and a bunch of things have happened in the past couple of weeks to drive that point home.”
“Like what?”
“Like my brother’s visit. Dan told me I should appreciate the blessing of a woman whose world has also been rocked but who’s stuck around despite my foul moods—and he was right.”
So Dan had read him the riot act that day.
She definitely owed her brother-in-law a call or thank-you note—at the very least.
“Charley had a few words of wisdom to offer too.” Greg pulled a paper napkin out of the holder on the table and blotted up the ring of condensation left by one of the beer cans. “He reminded me that attitude is everything. Made me realize I’d been mired in a glass-half-empty philosophy for too long.”
God bless the taco man!
“I also listened to Reverend Baker’s sermon last Sunday. His comment about physical blindness not being the only way a person can lose their way—or lose sight of what’s important—hit home.” Greg took a deep breath. “And then there was your ultimatum.”
Her stomach contracted. “That was a desperation measure. I didn’t know what else to try.”
“I’m glad you did it. It forced me to take stock of my priorities—and to realize that what I wanted most of all in life was you. Losing my leg was bad . . . but losing you would be like cutting out my heart.”
As he uttered the words she’d been longing to hear for months, the room grew fuzzy.
“I wasn’t even certain you l-loved me anymore.” Somehow she choked out the admission.
He took her hand, his firm grip steady and reassuring. “I never stopped loving you. Not for one minute. In fact, I love you more now than I did the day we got married—which is saying a lot. Someday, I hope you’ll be able to say the same about me . . . and that I’ll deserve it.”
“I never stop—”
He held up a hand. “Rachel, I’ve made your life miserable for months. I don’t expect us to get back to normal overnight. To be honest, I can’t promise there won’t be days I’m frustrated or down and take it out on you again. I’ll try hard not to do that, but it could happen.”
“I never expected you to be perfect, Greg. All I wanted was for you to love me.”
“That I can promise to do. And I’m also going to do my best to turn my life around and be the kind of husband I vowed to be the day we said I do. But I don’t expect you to believe that without some proof.”
“Your promise is proof enough.”
His jaw firmed. “Not after everything that’s happened. Let me back it up with some action too.”
Action?
She arched an eyebrow. “What kind of action?”
His irises darkened for an instant—and then he flashed her a grin. “Not the kind you’re imagining, much as I’d like that.” His manner grew more serious. “I think we need to get comfortable together again before we jump back into full-fledged marriage.”
He was right.
Lonely as she might be, the sensible course was to take things slow and easy. If this ended up being a false start . . . if for some reason Greg couldn’t live up to his promise, or changed his mind . . . it was better to proceed with caution.
She couldn’t go through the heartbreak of the past eight months again.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I’m going to work on the lighthouse project and think about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I’m also planning to ramp up my physical therapy routine to get rid of this limp. I’ll take over more of the household chores. And I’m going to talk to you—really talk to you—every single day. I’m open to other suggestions too.”
“I do have one.” She lifted their joined hands. “I think we need to do more of this. Physical affection—even simple gestures like this—help build closeness.”
“That will be an easy request to accommodate.” He stroked his thumb over her hand. “The hardest challenge will be keeping it simple when I want much more.”
“That challenge goes both ways.” She tipped her head. “How will we know it’s time for more?”
“I’m going to let you make that call.”
She rolled her eyes. “No pressure there.”
“You’ll know, Rachel—and if I think you’re rushing
