No, it wasn’t just physical. The sensual aspect of her encounters with Blake, while phenomenal, had always been more like a wonderful bonus than the substance of what they shared. She’d always believed that was what had made them so great.
And was the source of her problem now.
“You knew I was still in love with him, didn’t you?” A tear dripped onto her pillow.
“I was pretty sure.”
“So why did you let me do this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have believed me?”
If anyone could have convinced her it would have been Becky. But…“Probably not.” Annie had been so certain she was in complete control.
A hard-won control that had given her the confidence to think she could be a mother. And cope with anything.
“Maybe loving him isn’t a bad thing.” Becky’s voice was soft, but not tentative. “Did you ever think of that?”
Both cheeks wet with tears, Annie shook her head. And then realized her friend couldn’t hear that.
“It is a bad thing, Bec,” she said, knowing that she spoke the truth. “Whatever pulls the two of us together also keeps us apart. We aren’t good for each other on an elemental level. Our love hurts us, because we’re both so aware that we’re letting the other down. But it’s in ways we can’t help.”
Those words didn’t sound good out loud, either, but they rang true.
“That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard,” Becky said.
“I know.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Becky asked, and Annie thought she detected a hint of a smile in her friend’s words—and tears there, too.
“I love you, Bec.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
CHAPTER TEN
ONE OF THE THINGS Blake had learned in his two years of struggling with the gift of getting his life back was that he would not ever, ever get behind the wheel of a moving vehicle after having more than two beers. He’d done it once. And missed hitting an innocent child by about two inches.
The incident had sobered him for good. He’d not been drunk since.And he wasn’t tonight. But he’d had three beers.
As soon as Luke was gone he relocked the Continental and, pocketing his keys and cell phone, set off on foot. He’d hitchhike into town. Maybe stop and get a sandwich someplace. As small as River Bluff was, he’d have to go twice around the town before he figured he’d be ready to head back to his car and return to San Antonio, unless he found somewhere to stop off first.
He headed down Main Street. Past the Longhorn Café. Sandra, the night waitress, was on duty tonight. He could see her in the window. Pretended not to notice her welcoming smile as she spotted him.
He’d been in one too many Wednesday nights in a row. Must have given Sandra the wrong impression. Blake was definitely not interested in a night or anything else with her, and he walked on past.
No one
was hanging around the River’s Run building, like one might see outside the San Antonio Gazette. Or, he expected, any other major paper across the nation. Passing a couple of gift shops, a lawyer’s office and a barbecue place, Blake headed toward the clinic and the houses beyond. He could always walk out to Cole’s place. If his friend was there, he’d have something for Blake to eat, pour him some black coffee and then drive him back to his car.
And if Cole wasn’t there, Blake could let himself in with the key his friend had given him, and wait for him.
He could also keep walking.
Or he could quit lying to himself—something he swore he’d never do intentionally to counteract those times his head played tricks on him and led him to believe things that didn’t actually exist—and just admit that he knew where he was going.
The place he’d been longing to visit for the past forty-three hours and twenty-one minutes.
The place he’d known he’d end up at when he left his office in San Antonio earlier that evening.