She smiled. “I never said they weren’t good kisses,” she reminded him.
“Just that we couldn’t repeat them.”
“Exactly.”
“Like I said, you were wrong.”
“I think I was referring to the wisdom of repeating them, not to your ability to sneak one in.”
He stood back with an expression of mock indignation. “There was nothing sneaky about that kiss. We’re out on a terrace all alone in the moonlight. We’re drinking champagne.”
“I had one sip, hardly enough to cloud my judgment.”
He chuckled. “So you went into that kiss with no excuses,” he taunted. “That’s even better.”
She tilted her head and studied him. “You have an argument for everything, don’t you?”
“When I need one,” he said. “My point is that all the signs were pointing to a romantic encounter.”
Amusement sparkled in her eyes. “So, if I didn’t want you to kiss me, I should have made a dash for it when you first appeared with that champagne.”
“A wise woman who truly didn’t want to be kissed would have,” he agreed.
“This theory of yours works out rather conveniently for you,” she noted. “All of the responsibility falls on me.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Amazing how that works out, isn’t it?”
To his surprise, she chuckled and moved closer to rest her head against his chest. “I honestly don’t know why I keep fighting this so hard,” she said. “In my mind, pushing you away makes all the sense in the world, but when you’re this close, getting even closer is the only thing that makes sense.”
Though her words were music to his ears, there was a note of regret in her voice he couldn’t ignore. He hated that what felt so right to him still filled her with so much conflict. How could they possibly move past that?
“Liz, tell me what you really want. If it’s not me, I can walk away.”
“You didn’t before,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “I wasn’t convinced then. Convince me.”
She looked into his eyes. “I don’t know how.”
“Because it’s not true?” he suggested quietly.
Her sigh was heavy and heartfelt. “Because it’s not true,” she acknowledged in a whisper.
“As long as I know that, we can figure out all the rest,” he told her.
“I wish I could believe that.”
He ran his fingers through her hair again, then caressed her cheek lightly. “Believe it, sweetheart. I do.”
He wasn’t entirely sure why or how he had so much faith with so many things left unsaid between them, but he did.
* * *
Liz woke up on Sunday morning to find the foyer filled with suitcases. She found her mother and sisters already in the kitchen, filling a Thermos with coffee. She eyed them warily, poured herself a cup and sat down, looking from LeeAnn and Danielle, both of whom deliberately avoided her gaze, to her mother.
“I gather you all are anxious to get on the road,” she said carefully. “I didn’t think you’d be leaving this early.”
“Mom’s idea,” LeeAnn said, casting a hard look toward their mother.
Liz sighed. Of course it was. She’d lain awake the night before trying to figure out why her mother hadn’t said a word on the ride home from the party. Now she knew. She’d seen or heard something that had sent Liz’s disapproval rating into the stratosphere. That’s what all the whispers she’d heard coming from the bedrooms had been about.
“Whatever’s on your mind, Mom, why don’t you just say it to my face?” Liz suggested. “You’ve obviously already filled in Danielle and LeeAnn.”
Her mother’s back stiffened. When she finally turned around, there were tears in her eyes. “I am so disappointed in you,” she said. “You’re just not the woman I raised you to be.”
Nothing she might have said would have cut through Liz more. She’d told herself over the years to ignore her mother’s nonstop guilt-inducing remarks, but how could any daughter live with knowing what a constant source of disappointment she was? She sometimes thought the one thing she’d done right in her mother’s eyes was marrying Josh March. Quite possibly that was why she’d never wanted her to know the truth about their marriage, a truth she herself had discovered way too late.
“What is it I’ve done now?” she asked, though the answer was obvious. It had something to do with Aidan.
LeeAnn regarded her sympathetically. “Don’t listen to her, Liz. There is nothing wrong with moving on with your life. And Danielle and I both like Aidan. We really do.”
“A man like that?” their mother snapped. “One who’d take advantage of a grieving widow?”
Liz stared at her mother in shock. “Nobody is taking advantage of anybody, Mother. And I am not a grieving widow. I’m sorry Josh is dead, but our marriage would have been over anyway.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother said. “That man adored you and you never showed him the respect he deserved.”
Liz knew she was at least partly responsible for her family’s misguided view of her marriage. She’d never wanted them to know the truth. She wasn’t sure if she’d been protecting their illusions about Josh or whether she’d feared just this, that somehow she’d be the one in the wrong for the failure of the marriage. That once again, she wouldn’t have measured up to her mom’s impossibly high standards. Ironically, they only seemed to apply to Liz. LeeAnn and Danielle had always gotten away with everything with little more than a scolding and a chuckle.
“Maybe I did make mistakes,” Liz said defensively, tired of hiding the truth. “In fact, I’m sure of it, but the worst might have been trusting my husband.”
Her mother looked shocked. “How could you say a thing like that? Josh March was a fine, decent man.”
Exhausted by the long-running charade, she said quietly, “I say it because it is true. Josh was cheating on me, Mom. He had been for months. At least with the woman I found out about. Maybe he’d been at it even longer.”
The bitter words hung in the air. Liz noted the shock and disbelief on her
