A Bride After All (14 page)

“Oh, that’s not good, is it? But Chessie’s over that, she said so.”

“Anyone can talk a good story, Claire. And maybe it’s true, too. But that doesn’t mean you can have your former best friend tell you to your face that she and that rotten Rick Peters are divorcing and—Chessie says this is word-for-word—
I’m done with him, so you can have him back now
. And then she said she’d be sure to tell Rick he should call her, so they could catch up on
old times
.”

“Oh, poor Chessie. You don’t want to go home, do you, Marylou? You’re going over to Second
Chance Bridal, to see her. Look, if I can’t find Nick, I’ll be right there, so you can leave. Give me fifteen minutes, okay?”

Nick pulled into the driveway and parked beside Claire’s car. He hadn’t planned it this way, but she was here, and he was here, and after four long days and nights of not seeing her, he figured he could confine himself to
grateful
and not look too hard at the
why
of it.

He’d been at the State Police barracks when Claire phoned him, pulling together the facts surrounding the accident, and the charges being brought against the driver of a tractor trailer that had side-swiped the school bus as he merged onto the highway.

Once he knew Claire was on her way to relieve Marylou, Nick drove to the office to write his story, as deadline was fast approaching and he wanted to do two sidebars—one about one of the children who was injured, and another on the continuing battle to make belt restraints mandatory in any vehicle transporting children. He’d gotten that idea from Claire, who’d complained to him that nearly all of the injuries could have been avoided if the students had been restrained.

He’d teased her that she was fast becoming his muse, if not his editor, but he genuinely enjoyed her lively mind, her ideas. She wasn’t just another pretty
face, not Claire. He was still trying to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky.

But tonight would have nothing to do with luck. She’d either want him or she wouldn’t.

Nick entered the quiet house just as the mantel clock in the living room chimed out the hour of midnight, and softly called Claire’s name. There was no answer.

He checked the kitchen, the den—took a shot and tried his bedroom—before peeking into Sean’s room to see his son sound asleep on his back on top of the covers, his arms and legs splayed out as if he was trying to turn his body into the letter X.

Nick had read somewhere that the position a sleeper assumes shows a lot about his mental state. Sean had spent the last few nights pretty much drawn up into a fetal position in his bed, as if protecting himself from some unseen assault. Sleeping on one’s back, Nick remembered, showed a mind at peace, a confident person willing to open himself up to the world.

The photograph of his mother, which had been banished to the bottom of his closet, was once again on the nightstand beside him. Nick couldn’t be sure, but he had a pretty good idea who had brought about that change, when he had been unable to get through to his son.

Sometimes being a parent broke your heart in a bad way…and sometimes it broke your heart in a good way. Nick went into the room and bent over Sean, placing a light kiss on the boy’s soft cheek. Tonight it was in a good way.

Stripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt as he returned to his own bedroom, Nick quickly changed into a favorite worn Lehigh University T-shirt and a pair of sweats, and went hunting Claire once more.

He found her in the living room, curled up on her side on one of the floral couches, a mohair throw his mother had crocheted draped over her as she slept.

Her hair was loose and falling over her face, one hand tucked under her cheek.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, perching himself on the edge of the cushions and pushing the hair back from her face so that he could press a light kiss against her ear. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Claire slowly opened her eyes, turning onto her back to smile up at him. “Don’t apologize. I think I needed that nap. I really have to ask Sean to show me how to work your TV remote.” She motioned for him to move and sat up. “What time is it, anyway?”

“A little after midnight,” he told her, watching her stretch like a cat just waking from a nap. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll make some coffee. I’ll need it for the drive home. And I did want to talk to you some more about Cassandra’s phone call.”

Nick followed her into the kitchen. “She really got to you, didn’t she?”

Claire pressed the button on the coffee machine, obviously having already filled and programmed it. “She got to you, once. You loved her, remember?”

He knew himself to be on treacherous ground now, and decided to stick with the truth. That was the only thing that really worked long-term, anyway. “Yes, I loved her. She was exciting, different.” He smiled at a sudden memory. “When I first saw her on campus, she was wearing one of those granny dresses or whatever they’re called, and she had hair hanging halfway down her back. Brown hair, by the way. She carried an acoustic guitar with her, strapped on her back, even to classes. That didn’t last long.”

“The granny dresses or the classes?” Claire asked him as she got out cups and a bag of sugar cookies.

“Both. Sandy was an English major, but she dropped out a few months after we started dating, only one semester away from her degree. She’d found a band and the folk singer dresses went, the hair changed colors—pink the first time—and the acoustic guitar was traded in for a secondhand electric. Also pink.” His smile faded. “And I started backing away, a move I don’t know if she even noticed, because she was so caught up with the band. Then the test strip turned blue or whatever those things do, and that was that. I guess you’d say that’s the abbreviated version, but yes, I loved her. I think I did. Then, for a long time, I hated her.”

Claire poured the coffee and carried the mugs to the kitchen table. “That’s only natural. She left you. She left Sean.”

“I suppose so. Now? Now, I don’t really feel anything for her. That surprised me this weekend. When it comes to Sandy now, I guess I’m Switzer
land. Completely neutral. Except that I do feel sorry for her. She’s going to spend her life chasing a dream.”

“I’m no huge expert on this sort of thing, Nick,” Claire said after a moment. “But I think you’ve just described closure. How does it feel?”

He laughed softly under his breath, and thought about her question. “Different. Good. Mostly, it feels good. Sean’s all right, better than I could have expected. He’s one hell of a kid. Not that he wasn’t rocky there for a few days, but we’re moving through it. I saw Sandy’s picture is back on his nightstand.”

“We…talked a bit, and he decided to put it back.”

Nick lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the soft skin of her palm. “I’ve missed you. Are we done with our slowing it down experiment now? Are we ready for the next step?”

She dipped her head for a moment. When she looked up at him again he thought he had his answer. And then she surprised him. “Possibly. Maybe.”

“Excuse me?” Was she going to say they were still moving too fast? Was she going to tell him that she wasn’t ready to take on a man with a nine-year-old son, no matter how cute Sean was and how much she liked him? Did she look at him and think he was still carrying too much baggage?

“Claire, you were right. There are things about me this week that weren’t there last week. But that doesn’t mean that anything has changed in my feelings for you. But now it sounds as if you’re saying—”

She waved a hand in front of him, signaling that she wanted to talk. “I’m not, Nick. Really, I’m not. It’s just that I think maybe, before we say anything else, we should…practice some more.” Now her brown eyes were twinkling.

He relaxed against the back of the chair. “Practice. Really?”

“Yes. Before we make a commitment, you know?”

“Claire Ayers, are you asking me to take you to bed? Why, I’m shocked.”

“No, you’re not,” she told him, getting to her feet, pulling her up with him.

“You’re right, I’m not. In fact, taking you to bed has been on my mind all day today, so I’m glad we’re not going to talk anymore tonight. We’ve probably had enough talking, enough thinking for a while,” he said, drawing her down the hallway toward his bedroom, stopping just inside the doorway. “But I’m still going to ask you, you know. Sooner or later.”

“Um-hum, you do that,” Claire said, just before she shut the door, put both hands against his chest and began pushing him backwards, toward the bed. “And sooner or later, I’ll answer you. Just not tonight. Do you mind?”

He had already finished unbuttoning her blouse and had moved on to the front closure of her bra. “I think I can find a way to manage my disappointment,” he told her as the clasp came undone and he cupped her breasts in his hands. He stroked his
thumbs over her nipples, feeling them stiffen at his touch. “How about you?”

“Nick…you’re still talking…”

She was right. So he kissed her instead. Tasted her sweetness. Thrilled to her hunger. Felt his breath catch in his throat as she reached down her hand and slid it inside the waistband of his shorts.

He loved this woman. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever needed. She knew when to hold back, and she knew when to take what she wanted.

Tonight, he would give her everything he had to give. And then he’d give her more…

Claire cried at Barb and Skip’s wedding. She didn’t really know either one of them, but she’d cried anyway, because the ceremony was so beautiful, Barb and Skip were so beautiful, their love so great it was tangible for anyone who cared to look at them.

Sean had looked over at her at one point and laughed, telling Nick about her tears once the ceremony was over, laughing again in the telling, as if he’d never seen anything quite so funny. “Claire said she was crying because she was happy, Dad. Boys don’t do that. Are we going to eat soon?”

“So much for hoping my son has any romance in his soul,” Nick joked as they made their way out of the Rose Gardens and back to his car. “And don’t touch that bow tie, Sean. It has to stay on until we’re done
with all the photographs, okay? And that’s not just me saying it. Your cousin Barb gave me strict orders.”

“Oh, man…”

Claire laughed as Sean climbed into the back seat, loving the exchange between father and son, loving how right it all seemed to be here with the two of them. Sean had, with his father’s permission, begun calling her Claire, and she liked that, too. Every day was a step forward now, and each step seemed surer than the last.

At the reception, Nick introduced her to his parents and his sister, and that was another step forward. They all sat together and the conversation flowed naturally. Annie Barrington seemed especially pleased to hear Claire’s opinion of her former kitchen, but then leaned closer to confide quietly, “But I do think the appliances could do with a little updating, don’t you? Sometimes I think Nick believes he’s living in a museum, and nothing can change, or else I’ll be offended. He’s also been very busy, raising Sean, but it’s time he put his own stamp on the house, makes it a home for his family, begin his own traditions. You’ll help him with that, won’t you, dear?”

Claire had smiled politely and mumbled something she’d hoped was appropriate, but she knew she had just gotten the seal of approval from Nick’s parents.

Another step forward.

Tonight, she’d tell Nick she loved him. He had to know, but she still hadn’t said the words she’d nearly
blurted out much too soon; the same words he’d nearly said too soon. Now, the time was right.

“What are you smiling about?”

Claire turned in her chair to look at Nick, who had come up behind her without her noticing. “Nothing. I was just thinking about your parents, and how they’re taking Sean for the night so he can swim in the hotel pool. That’s all.”

“That’s all? You’re not thinking that we’ll be alone tonight, and that maybe something…special might happen tonight? I did tell you I was going to ask you again, remember.”

“And you still think I’m being silly.”

Nick went down on one knee beside her, so that she looked nervously toward his parents, who were still sitting at the table. “No, I think you’re wise, and wonderful, and even if many would still say we’re rushing things, I think we both know what we want, and know that it’s right. In fact, you’ve been right about everything, Claire, except for one thing in our timeline. You’re off by about five hours, as a matter of fact.”

Claire shot a quick look toward his family and then tugged at his sleeve, trying to get him to stand up, because not only was his family watching and listening, but it seemed as if the whole room was silent, straining to hear his every word. “Nick, please. Get up.”

“Nope,” he said, taking her hands in his. “But you might want to look behind you, sweetheart, because a few more guests have arrived.”

“What are you talking—Mom? Dad?” Claire couldn’t believe it. Not only were her parents standing there when they should be in Chicago, but Derek and his wife and children as well. She turned back to Nick and whispered fiercely, “What did you do?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” he whispered back to her. “I took the next step. Besides, I wanted to ask your parents’ permission, and when I called, well, one thing sort of led to the next, and they thought a visit to their grandchildren was in order.” And then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box and opened it, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen. “Claire, I love you. I’ve loved you almost from the moment we met, and I will love you until the day I die.”

“I love you, too,” she said quietly, feeling every eye on her, but seeing only Nick.

“Just
ask
her, Dad,” came an exasperated voice, and everyone laughed as Sean’s ears turned rather red and he buried his face against his grandfather’s chest.

“Thanks, Champ. It’s always good to have you in my corner. Claire, you heard him. I’m just going to ask. Will you marry me?
Us
?”