“You aren’t angry?” Her voice sounded soft and worried.
He glanced over his shoulder, surprised, then got back to work, steeping the tea bag in the water and adding her one teaspoon of sugar before rejoining her at the table. “Angry at what? The man obviously makes you happy. You’re getting out with him, smiling more than you have in years, and despite your health scare—”
“Maybe that’s because you’re home.”
“Or maybe it’s because a man’s finding you special and you like the attention.” He set a mug down in front of her.
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you. He’s a lonely widower and I’m keeping him company. That’s all.”
“You’ve been a lonely widow for the last twenty or so years. It’s about time you started living your life again.”
She glanced down, staring into the cup. “I never stopped living, Roman.”
“Yes, you did.” He didn’t want to have this deep conversation, yet he couldn’t deny the time had come. “In some ways you stopped living—and you changed how we lived as a result. Roman, Rick, and Chase, the bachelor brothers,” he said wryly.
“You’re saying it’s my fault you boys are still single?” His mother sounded outraged and hurt.
He steepled his fingers in thought. He wanted to tell her there was no blame involved, no fault, but he couldn’t lie. “You and Dad gave us a great family life.”
“And this is a bad thing? Bad enough to make you steer clear of marriage and family?”
He shook his head. “But you were devastated when he died. It was almost as if life stopped. You … you lived in pain—”
“That eventually dimmed,” she reminded him. “I wouldn’t have traded one minute with your father. Not even if it meant I wouldn’t have suffered or grieved. If you don’t feel pain, you haven’t really lived,” she said softly.
He’d already realized he hadn’t been living—when he’d connected with Charlotte this weekend. And as his mother spoke, he realized why. In an effort not to repeat the painful grieving process he’d seen his mother go through, Roman had opted to run, to travel, keeping his distance—from the town, his family, and Charlotte. Charlotte, the one woman who he’d always known, or at least sensed, could tie him to Yorkshire Falls and keep him here.
The one woman who had the power to hurt him, to make him feel the very pain he feared, should she die or leave him in any way. But his one night with her proved he couldn’t live without her either.
She was worth any risk.
“I’ve lived and I’ve loved. Not everyone can say the same. I’ve been lucky,” his mother said.
A wry smile twisted Roman’s lips. “You could have been luckier.”
A combination of sadness and happiness, of obvious memories, settled in her eyes. “I won’t lie. Of course I’d rather we’d have grown old and raised you boys together, but then I wouldn’t have this chance with Eric.” Her concerned gaze met his. “You’re sure you aren’t upset about that?”
“I think he’s good for you. Nothing about that upsets me.”
She smiled. “You do realize you can’t run away from life forever.”
He wasn’t surprised she’d read his thoughts. His mother had always been perceptive. He’d inherited the trait that had helped shape his career, but it was a pain in the ass when used against him. And it was that perceptiveness which left him too open to seeing and feeling his mother’s hurt.
“Well, I suppose you can keep running, but think about how much you’d be missing.” She patted his hand in the motherly gesture he knew so well. “And you’re too smart to continue on with something that’s an escape and not a solution. So, having said all that, where does Charlotte fit into your life now? And don’t tell me she doesn’t.”
She’d returned to her mission. “You know me better than to think I’d tell,” Roman said.
She raised her gaze toward the heavens. “Girls. Why couldn’t God have given me one girl with my boys, so I could understand what just one of you were thinking?”
“Come on, Mom. You know you like to be kept guessing. It keeps you young.”
“I’d rather drink from the Fountain of Youth,” she muttered. “Speaking of girls, you told me you were going to visit an old friend who’d moved to Albany last night, but Samson tells me he saw Charlotte leaving in your car.”
“For a man who’s the town recluse, he’s too full of information.” Roman wondered who else had seen them leave. Not that it mattered. He intended to make an honest woman out of her, no harm to her reputation involved. Unless marrying a Chandler who had a rumored fetish for women’s panties was a problem.
As amazing as it seemed, even to him, he was ready to make a commitment now—one that offered more than he’d envisioned after losing the coin toss. But before he approached Charlotte with the idea, he needed to convince her that he could and would make a good father and husband, that he wanted more than a long-distance marriage of convenience. Exactly how much more, how much he was willing to sacrifice in his career, his travel, he still had to think through. He had commitments, people relying on him, and a real enjoyment of his job he didn’t want to lose when this leave of absence was through.