Barefoot in the Sand (38 page)

“And after that…” He finally looked at her.

“After that we’re building a resort,” she said, a little too sharply. “A resort that you designed. With villas and a house.” Right?
Right?

Silence. Oh, God.

“
Aren’t
we, Clay?” A bad, bad feeling slivered through her.

“Lacey, I think maybe you should take the project to another builder.”

She just stared at him, any chance of taking a breath or firing back a response gone.

“I mean, you’ll have what you need to get started and I’ll have enough to sit for the exams. And I can consult from North Carolina if you—”

“Consult?” She practically choked the word. “You want to be a consultant?”

While she was sitting here rehearsing the first
I love you
? She grabbed the door, fighting the urge to flip the handle, shove it open, and run.

Instead she squeezed the metal and clenched her teeth. “If that’s what you want to do, then fine.”

“Lacey.”

“What?” She turned on him. “What do you want me to say? Great idea, Clay! Be a consultant from a thousand miles away.”

“I want you to have what you want.”

“I want
you
.” So much for subtle, perfectly timed, romantic admissions.

He took a slow breath. “I can’t give you want you want.”

“Meaning, what? You can’t give me…”
Say it, say it, say it
. “Love.”

The word hung like a cloying scent in the car. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

Shit. “I’m taking a walk,” she said.

Without waiting for his response she slid onto the running board, then hit the asphalt, congratulating herself on not bolting away like a kid having a temper tantrum.

Instead she took long strides to the boardwalk, then down to the beach, making it about fifty feet before he reached her side and took her arm.

“Lacey, please. This is better for both of us.”

“Is it? Well, sorry, I’ll be the judge of what’s better for me and I can tell you that your going back to North Carolina is not better for me. And David Fox is not better for me. No one is better for me than you.”

“Are you sure?” He took her wrist to pull her closer, but she yanked herself out of his grip.

“What do I need to say to convince you? I’m not in love with him. I’m… I’m not interested in having another child with him, no matter what he says or anyone else says.”

“I want you to be certain of that, because I can’t give you that.”

“I never said I wanted a child.”

“I can’t give you all the things you want. I can’t give you the kind of love you deserve. I’m not—I don’t have that in me. I have…”

“I know what you have,” she said. “Issues. Pain. A hurtful breakup. Problems. It’s called life, Clay. And you’re using them as…” She laughed softly, the irony of it all hitting her so hard it might be funny if it weren’t her heart that was breaking. “Excuses. You’re just using your dad and your hurt as excuses not to fall in love, not to have a family, not to have a
life
.”

He turned toward the water, away from her. “Maybe I am.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said, grabbing his arms to make him face her, the power of what she wanted to say and why she wanted to say it nearly rocking her backward. “I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not hiding behind excuses or old hurts.” She took a slow, deep breath and squeezed his arms. “I’m falling in love with you.”

“Lacey…” But his voice trailed off into silence.

“I’m waiting.” She smiled. “And not for you to say the same thing. I’m waiting for some kind of pain to consume me because I know you’re
not
going to say it.”

Searching her face, he stayed silent. Miserably, woefully silent.

“But that’s okay,” she said, a weird brightness almost choking her. “That’s okay because I feel the pain and the love and the need.” She hammered her chest. “I
feel
it right here.”

“Then you’re really lucky.” He took her fist and placed it on his chest. “You know what I feel there, Lacey?”

She shook her head.

“Numb.”

Numb. Not the four-letter word she was hoping to hear. “Maybe you’re just asleep,” she said. “Maybe someone or something needs to shake your heart awake.”

Without waiting for him to answer she walked away, the sand cold on her feet, vaguely aware of a buzzing in her head. No, that was his phone.

“Is someone texting you?” she asked. Now? At two in the morning?

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, his eyes widening so slightly that someone who didn’t know his every expression might not notice. But she noticed. He didn’t read the text, just stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

When he looked up his entire expression had changed. His eyes were distant, and his brain somewhere else. Who had texted him? That wisp of jealousy she’d felt the other day wrapped around her chest. And squeezed.

Whoever it was had just taken him far, far away from a very important conversation. One she suddenly didn’t want to have anymore.

She climbed into the truck, slipped on her shoes, and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She would not let him see her cry. When he didn’t open the driver’s door, she checked the side-view mirror to see what he was doing.

Reading the text. Standing frozen in the moonlight, reading the words someone had sent him, running a hand through his hair, looking up at the sky and closing his eyes like someone had just stabbed him. The way he’d looked when he’d gotten off the phone with Darcie the other day. When he’d teared up and wouldn’t tell her why.

He stayed behind the truck for a good two minutes,
long enough for her to start to question everything she knew about him.

Who was texting? Why wouldn’t he tell her? Was this text from…

Jayna
. The name banged around her brain. Could he be talking to his ex? Still in love with her? Was that why he was numb? Unable to take the next step because maybe he thought there was still a chance with her?

Had he lied about talking to his sister that afternoon? Had he been talking to his ex?

He got in, his expression more frozen than before. They drove the two blocks to her parents’ house in a thick silence, the echo of her ugly thoughts all she could hear in her head.

“Look, Clay,” she said as he pulled the truck up to the curb. “The zoning presentation is in two days. Let’s stay focused on that and when it’s over we’ll figure out where we go from here, whether it’s to North Carolina or…”

“I’m going home.” He muttered the words. “I have to.”

She had no answer to that, and, honestly, it was obvious he didn’t want an argument. He was going home after this presentation.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” He flipped his phone onto the console and got out.

Her gaze cut to the phone. Her finger itched. Her brain hummed. Her heart rolled around.

With a lightning-quick move she touched the screen, making it light up. Then she touched it again to read the list of texts, the top name the most recent.

Jayna Walker

Oh,
God
.

He opened her door and she turned guiltily from the
phone, inching forward so he wouldn’t see the light of the screen in the car. She took a minute to gather her bag, and her wits, and slowly stepped down, certain she hadn’t been caught.

Then she saw the moisture in his eyes. Apparently, there was a woman in this world who could make him cry. And it wasn’t Lacey Armstrong.

“I want to do the presentation alone,” she said.

“What?”

“Just let me make the presentation to the zoning committee on my own.”

She waited for the argument, the “Why would you do that?” fight. She wouldn’t admit she’d just peeked at who’d texted him, but—

“Okay.”

Okay.
Okay
? Had two syllables ever stabbed so deeply? What could she say?
You’re supposed to say no!

“Okay,” she repeated, grateful that the word even found its way through her pain-thickened throat.

He didn’t respond, his eyes still distant. He was a million miles away—with Jayna.

“I’ll get the materials tomorrow morning,” she somehow managed to say. “Will you…”

“I’ll leave the key behind the mailbox.”

In other words, he’d be gone by tomorrow.

“Good-bye, Clay.” She opened the kitchen door and stepped inside as fast as she could move, with no regard for waking David or Ashley.

When she closed the door and leaned her head against it, she took a deep breath, but all that came out of her was a low, slow, soul-cracking, heart-wrenching sob.

“Mom?”

She whipped around to see Ashley at the kitchen table drinking a glass of milk, waiting for her like a mother waits for a wayward teenager who’s stolen away in the middle of the night. For a moment, Lacey braced herself for the inevitable disapproval, hearing her mother’s voice in her head.

I told you he was scum
.

I warned you about that boy
.

You never pick the right ones
.

“What’s the matter, Mom?” Ashley stood slowly, her chair scraping over the tile floor, echoing loudly in the silent house.

“It’s Clay. He’s leaving.”

Ashley’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no! I’m sorry!”

“It’s not your fault, honey.”

“But, Mom…” Her face looked stricken as she came around the table, reaching out. “You’re crying!”

“I know you hate when I cry, Ash. I’m sorry. I-I just…” The sob caught in her throat, embarrassing her. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!”

She swiped her eyes, choking a dry laugh. “Honey, when you hand yourself over to a guy and give him everything and he dumps you, you are officially too stupid to deserve happiness.”

Ashley hugged her close, squeezing harder than Lacey could remember. “You’re not stupid, Mom. And you do deserve happiness.”

“Yes, I do, baby. Yes, I do.” The problem was she’d just thrown it away. And he hadn’t even put up a fight.

W
hy are we waiting?” Tessa asked, leaning against the kitchen counter impatiently. “He said he was blowing out of town, so let’s just go get the stuff and start helping you rehearse.”

Lacey shook her head. “I don’t want to run into him.”

“I do,” Zoe said. “I want to run
over
him with that big ol’ Jeep, actually, then spit on his broken bones and tell him what I think of cheaters and liars.”

“He didn’t cheat,” Lacey said quietly. “We weren’t official. I let my imagination run away with me.”

“Details,” Zoe shot back.

“Excuses,” Tessa added. “Where’s David, by the way?”

“I let him take Ashley cave diving.”

“You what?” Tessa slammed down her coffee cup hard enough to splash the granite. “I thought you were morally, ethically, and parentally opposed to that.”

“They got me at a weak moment, and it’s really a beginner’s cave. I trust him, and I need the day to rehearse and prepare.”

And lick my wounds
.

“Honestly,” she added, “I’m not afraid of him letting her swim tethered in a cave, but I’m scared to death she’s going to tell him Clay had me in tears last night, and now David’s going to drag the whole story out of her and think he has a chance with me.”

“Does he?” Tessa asked.

“Not even a small one.”

“Then come on, Lacey, let’s go,” Tessa insisted. “So what if you see Clay? You know where he stands now.”

“He stands with his father’s wife.” Zoe made a face. “Eww.”

Lacey grabbed her purse. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Zoe drove while Lacey sat in the front and tried not to summon memories from places she’d been with Clay. When they pulled into the parking lot of Hibiscus Court, she couldn’t resist looking at his empty parking spot, remembering a few hot kisses in his truck before they stumbled into his apartment, and into his bed.