On a groan, Jared gathers me close. “I’ve been an asshole with you this whole time, Melanie. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for what happened a few days ago, too.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He draws me away, scowling. “I had no idea what you’ve been through, or I never would’ve—”
He breaks off on a low curse and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“You never would have what?”
He gives a tight shake of his head. “If I’d known, I never would’ve started any of this with you. Not the painting, not the contract I made you sign. I sure as hell never would’ve allowed myself to get half-drunk and then force myself on you the way I did out at the studio.”
I can see the torment in his face, the remorse. “I don’t like the fact that you drink as much as you do,” I admit to him. “If you have problems, Jared, you need to find a better way to deal with them.”
“I know,” he answers tightly. “Fuck, I know that.”
“As for the rest of it, you don’t have to apologize.”
“Yes, I do—”
I silence him by going up on my toes and brushing my lips against his. His beard-shadowed jaw feels like rigid granite under my palm as I draw back from him. His eyes burn into me, hot with desire. The tender comfort he showed me a moment ago has shifted into a desire I can feel in the heavy throb of his heartbeat, and in the hard length of his erection pressing into my abdomen.
“You don’t have to apologize, because you didn’t force anything on me, Jared. Not that day out at the studio. Not anytime we’ve been together. I entered into this with my eyes open. I wanted you, too.”
“You shouldn’t.” His scowl darkens. “I’m not the kind of man you should admit that to, either. Especially not when the only thing preventing me from acting on it is the fact that there’s a little girl sleeping just above our heads.”
Katie’s the only thing that would keep me out of Jared’s arms right now, too.
It’s a slim tether to cling to, one he seems to be grappling with as much as I am. “I should go, before I prove I’m any more of a bastard.”
An electric silence simmers between us for a long moment, only to be broken by my phone’s chime sounding from in the kitchen. “I have to answer that. It could be the hospital.”
He nods, but doesn’t follow me into the kitchen while I run to take the call. It’s not the hospital’s number on the screen. It’s Eve.
“Hey,” I answer, a bit breathlessly. “What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be in your client meeting?”
“I’m just heading into it,” she says. “Don’t hate Gabe, but he literally just told me that he ran into Jared Rush at the Baine offices today. Apparently, Jared’s really concerned about you and was going to look for you at the hospital. Gabe told him where you were, Mel. I hope you’re not mad.”
“I’m not. And he did—find me at the hospital, that is.”
“Oh, my God. Is he there now?”
“No. We’re at my house. He brought Katie and me home a while ago. She’s taking a nap, so now we’re . . . talking.”
“Uh, huh,” Eve says, and I can practically hear the wheels of her mind turning. “You and Jared. At your house. Talking.”
“Yes.” I glance over my shoulder to peer toward the living room, but I don’t see him. “Can I call you back later?”
She laughs. “Girl, you’d better call me. I want to know everything.”
I murmur a quick goodbye, then drop the phone into my purse. When I walk back into the living room, I find it empty.
The front door has been unlocked, then closed silently behind him while I was talking to my friend. I look out the curtain of the front window just in time to hear his car rumble to life in the driveway.
He backs out onto the street, then he’s gone.
22
MELANIE
“Katie, time for breakfast,” I tell my niece, popping my head into her bedroom while I wind my hair into a bun and fasten it with an elastic band I pull out of the skirt pocket of my diner uniform. “Brush your teeth and come down to eat before I have to leave for work, please.”
“Okay, Aunt Mellie.”
I can hear my mom rummaging in the kitchen downstairs while a commercial plays on the TV in the living room. She came home from the hospital two mornings ago, feeling healthier than she had in months. Of course, her renewed energy only makes her harder to manage. She’s always had an independent streak, and I suppose I don’t have to look far to guess where I get my stubbornness.
I find her in her peach bathrobe and pajamas, bent over in front of the open refrigerator door and reaching in to retrieve an unopened gallon of milk from the back of the shelf.
“Mom, what do you think you’re doing?”
Her voice is muffled from halfway inside the appliance. “I’m getting Katie’s cereal ready for her.”
“Your doctor said no lifting or straining for at least a week.” I move around her and take the carton out of her hands. “What did you do with the packet of instructions he sent home with you?”
She gives me a mildly exasperated look. “It’s on the end table with my reading glasses in the living room.”
I frown, but it’s hard to be upset with her when she’s staring at me with clear, bright eyes and a healthy pink glow in her cheeks. I consider it my personal responsibility to ensure she stays as healthy as she looks now. “If you’re uncertain about what you can or can’t do while I’m gone today, promise me you’ll follow your doctor’s orders.”
She sighs. “I’ve already promised you I would, honey.”
Yes, she did, but that doesn’t mean I’m
