She eased away from him just enough to roll over. She needed to see him. . . .
She touched his face, traced the lines that pain had left on him. They matched her own; every wrinkle was the residue of how theyd lived and what theyd gained and lost. Sooner or later, all of it took up residence on your face. But the young man was there, too; the man shed fallen in love with. She saw him in the cheekbones, in the lips, in the hair that hadnt yet gone gray and needed to be trimmed.
He opened his eyes.
"Morning," she said, surprised by her scratchy voice.
Love, she thought; it touched every part of a woman, even her voice on a cold winters morning.
"Morning. " He kissed her gently and drew back. "What now?"
She couldnt help smiling. It was so Conlan-like. The whole we-have-no-road-map-anymore theory didnt work for a man who made his living looking for answers. She knew the answer for her. Shed known it the minute she saw him at the theater in Seattle, and probably long before that.
But theyd already failed once, and that failure had marked them, damaged them. "I guess we just see what happens," she said.
"Weve never been too good at that sort of thing. You know us. The plan-makers. "
Us.
That was enough for now. It was more than shed had yesterday.
"We need to be different this time, dont we?" she said.
"You have changed. "
"Loss will do that to a woman. "
He sighed at the mention of their loss, and she wished she could take the words back. How did you undo years, though? Once, their love had been characterized by hope and joy and passion. Theyd been young then, and full of faith. Could two grown people ever really find their way back to that?
"I have to be at work by noon. "
"Call in sick. We could--"
"No. " He pushed away from her and got out of the bed. He stood there, naked, staring down at her through unreadable eyes. "We were always good in bed, Ange. That was never the problem. " He sighed, and in that sound was the reminder of all that had gone wrong between them; he bent down for his clothes.
While he was dressing, she tried to think of what to say to stop him from leaving. But the only words that came to her were: Twice I came into his office and found him crying.
Shed broken his heart. What could she say to him now that would matter? Words were such impermanent things; there and gone on a breath.
"Come back," she finally said as he walked toward the door. "Sometime. When youre ready. "
He paused, turned to look at her. "I dont think I can. Good-bye, Angie. "
And then he was gone.
ANGIE WAS DISTRACTED AT WORK. MAMA NOTICED HER behavior and remarked on it more than once, but Angie knew better than to say anything. Gossip as juicy as I slept with Conlan would burn through the family. She didnt want to hear sixteen opinions on what had happened, and more important, their fear would taint it. She wanted to hold on to the hope that hed come back to the cottage sooner or later.
Instead, she focused on more immediate worries. Like the fact that Lauren had missed another shift and hadnt bothered to call. Angie had left several messages, but none of them had been returned.
"Angela. "
She realized that her mother was speaking to her, and put down the phone. "What, Mama?"
"How long are you going to stand there, staring at the telephone? We have customers waiting. "
"Im afraid shes in trouble. Someone needs to help her. "
"She has a mother. "