Could you?
The question peeked at him from beneath her long lashes. In her expression, he saw the barest hope that he might someday change his mind about love.
Cody’s words came back to him. She wanted a fairy tale. A happily-ever-after. Is that what his mother had hoped for? His father’s wife? His brother, Sebastian, whose marriage had disintegrated after two short years? Probably. Instead, they’d gotten heartbreak.
Her lips curved downward as the silence between them stretched out. He hated seeing her unhappy, but it wasn’t fair to lead her on.
Finally, she got fed up with his lack of an answer. “I didn’t think so,” she muttered, scooping her shirt off the floor.
As much as he didn’t like to be the source of her pain, she deserved his honesty. She needed to understand that she’d have his respect, his fidelity, his affection, just not his love.
And in the end, both of them would be happier for it.
“Love isn’t what makes a marriage last,” he said. “Or there wouldn’t be half as many divorces. You need mutual respect and shared goals.”
“I agree that marriage takes work,” she said. “Supporting each other’s hopes and dreams. Listening and compromising. But wouldn’t those things be easier with an emotional bond? Something powerful and all-consuming that keeps you together no matter how many curveballs life throws at you?”
The raw certainty in her eyes speared through him. A fervent crusader, she’d made a convincing argument for love. It might work on another man, one who hadn’t seen the ravages of love up close and personal.
“And what happens when that powerful and all-consuming emotion dies?” he countered.
Hands on her hips, she pressed her lips together and glared at him. “I’ll bet you think you’re better off not letting anyone in. That way you don’t get hurt. But isn’t that awfully lonely? Don’t you ever wish you could let someone take care of you for a change?”
And risk being disappointed when she stopped? “I’m a big boy,” he said. “I haven’t needed anyone for a long time.”
She slipped the shirt over her head. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured and with one last searching glance, strode from the room.
Nathan threw off the sheet and stood, irrationally annoyed. He didn’t need her pity. Or her love. He just needed her hand in marriage and her body in his bed.
Dismissing what felt suspiciously like regret, he headed for the shower.
Emma knelt on the floor, surrounded by the jewelry she’d made, and assessed a month’s worth of work. Ten necklaces, a dozen pairs of earrings, fifteen rings and six bracelets. It wasn’t enough. But it would have to do. In two days she was on her way to Baton Rouge for the art and design show. Her four weeks of exhausting work were at an end. This weekend would determine how the rest of her life would play out.
In the living room, Nathan sang along to a Sinatra tune. The romantic music wrapped around her like a comfortable sweater and Emma found herself smiling. As much as she’d protested against moving into Nathan’s condo, she had to admit that it had probably helped her prepare for the show. Left alone in her loft or staying at Addison’s, she would have driven herself into the ground way before her deadline. Being forced to rest and eat, she’d met all her goals and crafted better jewelry. If she had a profitable show in Baton Rouge, she could credit a lot of that success to Nathan.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding out.” Addison appeared in the workroom doorway. She’d called an hour ago to say she was stopping by. “How is it going?”
“See for yourself.” Emma gestured toward the pieces she’d recently finished.
Addison sat beside Emma and let her fingertips drift along a ruby-and-diamond necklace. “This is gorgeous.”
“Here’s the piece I created for the silent auction.” Emma pulled a square flat box off her worktable and handed it to Addison. “I hope it makes up for the fact that I wasn’t able to help you with the gala this year. I feel terrible about that.”
For the last five years, she and Addison had co-chaired the committee in charge of a big event that raised money to fight juvenile diabetes. It was a labor of love for Addison, whose sister had been diagnosed with the disease at the age of five. How Addison managed a career, family and all her volunteer activities, Emma didn’t have a clue. Her friend seemed tireless.
Emma was always happy to help, but this year her free time had been eaten up by her jewelry business and both her show and the gala fell on the same weekend.
“Don’t worry about it,” Addison said, popping the lid and gasping at the sparkling necklace that lay on the bed of black velvet. “This is incredible. And way more than you should be donating.”
“You’re sweet to say that. Here I was thinking I wasn’t doing nearly enough.”
The women hugged. Emma felt the burn of tears behind h
er eyes. She exhaled a shaky breath. Lately her emotions had been uncomfortably close to the surface. Frustration. Happiness. Desire. Anger. Emma’s moods had been on a merry-go-round without end.
“I’ve missed having you around,” Addison said. “But I can see why you decided to move in here.”
“What are you talking about?” Emma stretched her lower back and grimaced as pain lanced through her muscles.