Russell shrugged helplessly, regret obvious in the green eyes that looked so much like Charlotte’s. “Annie felt sure she wouldn’t come over if we told her on the phone and thought she wouldn’t walk out on us in a crowd.”
“And you don’t know her well enough to say differently.”
Russell shook his head. “But I want to. I always have.”
Roman’s mother and Eric chose that moment to join them. Roman had been surprised to see his mother at the baseball game, but since she’d been with Eric again, and sitting on a blanket the whole time, he figured she was feeling up to it. And maybe even feeling a bit better.
“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Eric said.
“Apparently, in this group, the more the merrier,” Roman muttered. He had little time left before he’d have to break down Charlotte’s door if he wanted to get her alone. “Russell, can I have a word with you?” he asked, shooting his mother a pointed, knowing glance.
“Annie, come have some lemonade. I made it myself and it’s delicious.”
“But …” Panic flared in Annie’s eyes, as if she were afraid in the five minutes she’d be gone, Russell would disappear again.
Watching Annie gave Roman better insight into Charlotte’s fears. She wasn’t anything like her insecure mother, yet he could see how she’d instilled a fear in Charlotte—the fear of becoming as needy and sadly pathetic and isolated as her own mother.
He wanted to shield her from pain and take care of her forever, but Charlotte would freeze him out before she’d let him close enough to hurt her. And the thought shook him straight to the core.
Because he loved her.
He loved her. The truth settled in his heart, warming places that had always been cold.
He admired her fierce desire to maintain herself and her individuality, to not end up like her mother. He admired the business she’d built on her own, in a town that hadn’t been prepared, yet she’d won the people over anyway. He loved how she saw the best in him even when he didn’t deserve it. He loved everything about her.
Viewing her deepest pain up close forced him to acknowledge his feelings. Feelings that had to come second to Charlotte’s needs or he’d risk losing her forever. He’d tell her, but the timing had to be right.
It was beyond him how he’d know when that was. Roman’s family was hardly setting an example of functional relationships. Chase was hanging out with the single guys from the paper, drinking beer, talking sports, and sleeping with the occasional good-time woman and never getting involved. Rick rescued women, and right now he was playing Prince Charming to Beth Hansen until she got over her broken engagement and was ready to move on. Then he’d move on as well to the next woman in his life.
Roman shook his head, knowing he didn’t have the role models to look to for answers. He was on his own.
“No buts,” Eric cut in, speaking to Annie, his voice somehow soothing yet authoritative at the same time. “I have to insist you taste Raina’s drink. Besides, Raina isn’t supposed to spend too much time on her feet, and I’d appreciate you taking her back to the blanket until I can get there.”
“Go on, Annie.” Russell patted her arm and eased himself out of her grasp.
Once the trio had disappeared, Roman faced Charlotte’s father. “I don’t have much time.”
“I realize that. But you should know life is more complicated than any of you”—Russell swept his arm around, gesturing to the ball field and hence the people of the town—“can understand.”
In his pained expression, Roman didn’t see the self-absorbed actor who’d abandoned his family for fame and fortune. Instead he saw an aging man who’d lost much. Roman let out a groan. “It’s not any of us who needs to understand. It’s your daughter.” He pinned Russell with a steady gaze. “If you really care, I hope you’ll take the time during this trip to prove it.”
“She’d have to be willing to listen.”
Roman shrugged. “Make her listen.” After a last glare, Roman took off for the parking lot at a run, intending to take his own advice.
* * *
“It’s time, Annie.” Russell Bronson sat on the picnic blanket loaned to him by Raina Chandler. After the four of them had talked, Eric had taken Raina home, leaving Russell and Annie alone. Russell remembered Raina as a kind neighbor, a good mother to her three boys, and a friend to his wife. Obviously things hadn’t changed.
And that was the problem, Russ thought. Nothing had changed. From the day he married Annie Wilson, the girl he’d fallen in love with in fifth grade, until now, everything in Annie’s world had stayed the same.
She curled her legs beneath her and stared out at the players on the field. “I’m not sure it will make a difference,” she said at last.