Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“Guys don’t tend to dream of weddings. I was more interested in the woman than the setting.”

And he was still interested in the woman. More than interested.

“Not all girls dream of weddings either. After watching my parents in action, it wasn’t something I was in a hurry to emulate. But I bet you thought you’d do it some day. Pretty girl. White dress. Big family wedding. I deprived you of that.”

“The wedding was for us, not my family. We were the only two people who mattered. In fact I’d even say you spared me a big family wedding. For that, I’ve been forever grateful. Vanessa’s wedding almost gave my mother a nervous breakdown. I had no idea choosing a dress and a few flowers could be so stressful. I always thought a wedding was supposed to be a happy occasion.” He hesitated. “Ours was. Whatever came after, that day was happy.”

“Yes. And then we told people and suddenly it didn’t seem quite so shiny.” She looked tired and defeated. “Your mom was devastated when we told her what we’d done, although she hid it well. She was always very kind to me.”

“She likes you a lot.” He paused, wondering, asking himself questions he never had before. “Would you have wanted that? The Plaza in June?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That stuff doesn’t matter to me.”

“I remember Harriet trying desperately to add some romantic touches to our wedding. She was the one who found the flowers—”

“She did that to satisfy her own image of what a wedding should look like.”

“Why didn’t you turn to me?” His emotions were too raw to be contained. “When you lost the baby, why didn’t you tell me how you felt?”

She was silent for a long time.

“I couldn’t. I felt so raw and exposed. As if my insides had been ripped out. It was the most terrifying thing that had ever happened to me. For the first time in my life I didn’t know how to handle my feelings, and that made me feel vulnerable. Talking to you would have made me more vulnerable.”

He knew she believed it. And knew that was the root of their problem. “I’m glad at least you were able to talk to Harriet. At least you weren’t alone.”

There was a long pause. “I didn’t talk to Harriet either. Not about that.”

It was the last thing he’d expected to hear, and in that one sentence she revealed more than she’d ever revealed before and it made him realize that even he had underestimated the degree to which she protected herself.

“But she picked you up from the hospital—”

“She knew what had happened, but not the details. She tried to get me to talk, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“I assumed—” He broke off, processing it. “I thought you told each other everything.”

“If I’d let her see how bad I was feeling, she would have felt bad, too. I didn’t want her to feel a fraction of what I was feeling.”

“That’s a twin thing?”

She gave a faint smile. “No. I’m not talking about some weird, spooky thing where we feel each other’s pain secondhand. I’m talking about how it feels to see someone you love in agony.”

“Losing a baby is an emotional experience.”

“It wasn’t just the baby. I knew, even as it happened, I’d lost you, too.”

And she’d talked to no one. Harriet hadn’t got any closer than he had. He didn’t know if that made him feel worse or better.

“So you’ve never talked about it? Not with anyone?”

“No. I dealt with it my own way.”

He suspected she hadn’t dealt with it at all.

Her gaze shifted to the door, and he decided that if he pushed her any more she’d be gone.

“Let’s eat.” He stepped away and picked up a couple of serving platters.

She eyed him.