Dear Diary (30 page)

You have no one to blame but yourself.

She’d known from the beginning that Nick couldn’t love her. So why had she listened when he’d said those three meaningless words? Why had she let herself believe in the impossible?

Max walked into the living room. His T-shirt was too short and his belly hung out, giving him the look of a belligerent prizefighter gone to seed. A scowl was plastered across his baby face. Rory looked at him, forcing a smile. “What is it, Tiger?”

“Lisa hit me.”

“You’ve hit her a time or two, haven’t you?”

“No!”

“I don’t think that’s quite true. I’ve seen you hit her.”

The conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. For a moment he stood in defiant indecision, then he climbed onto the couch and buried his face into Rory’s neck, crying as if his heart would break.

For Rory it was a surprising moment. Max so rarely showed the need for affection, especially from her, that she hardly knew what to do. Hugging him close, she rubbed his back. “Hey, it’s not so bad.” He sniffled louder, for effect. Rory smiled against his hair. She had to resist the desire to squeeze too hard, to ask for the love she herself craved. Her eyes closed. Her heart hurt. She inhaled deeply the smell of dirt and chocolate, and the clean baby scent that lingered through all. Tears burned. “Oh, Max,” she murmured, a catch in her voice.

His blue eyes looked at her, huge and round. “You sad?” he asked.

“Very sad.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t talk. Max lay his head against her shoulder and she wept silently, brushing at the tears, unable to stop their flow.

Michelle stopped short at the entryway to the room. She didn’t say anything, merely lifted her brows to ask if Max was bothering her. Rory shook her head. It felt wonderful to have someone in her arms who gave and received love so willingly.

Max lasted about thirty seconds. Patting Rory’s hair, he said matter-of-factly, “You feel better,” and slid from her lap.

“Do you?” Michelle asked after Max had gone in search of his sister. She perched on the ottoman in front of the couch.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, stop it. I know you’re miserable. I can’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”

Rory’s gaze dropped to her hands. If Michelle kept this up, she was going to see her sister cry rivers.

“You haven’t lied to me about Nick, have you?” she asked quickly.

“No. Oh, no. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.” Rory drew in a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “He… uh… was finally honest about us.”

“What does that mean?”

“He just wants to be friends, too. It was a mistake. He said he was wrong.”

“Oh, Rory.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Rory glanced away, chewing on her lower lip. “I knew it would be this way. I was stupid to get involved.”

“Maybe he’s just not admitting how he really feels.”

“Oh, no. He was clear on that. But I don’t want to talk about it.” Rory sighed. “Really. You’ve got worse problems than I do.”

Michelle lifted a hand, then dropped it in defeat. “James is coming by this afternoon. I’ve asked him to hold off on the divorce, and he’s agreed, at least temporarily. We’re finally going to talk.”

“Good.” Rory struggled to pull herself together. “That’s just what Nick said you ought to do…” Her voice trailed off with remembered pain.

Squeezing her hand, Michelle said, “It’s not over till it’s over. In a weird way, I’m happy you’re finally facing your feelings.”

“Maybe. It’s just never seemed like a good idea to let anyone get that close. It hurts like hell.”

“Yeah. It does.” Her lips twisted. “But I have two wonderful children from taking that chance, and I wouldn’t change that for anything, no matter what happens between me and James.”

Rory left Michelle’s when James arrived. He looked terrible. He might be the villain in this drama, but his choices weren’t making him completely happy, either. Had her father felt like that? Rory wondered. She’d never credited him with emotions stronger than lust, but maybe it had hurt him a little to give up his family.

She drove home aimlessly, stopping by the park where she’d taken Max and Lisa. It was still hot, but a light breeze had kicked up, making the air feel fresher, more bearable, more Seattle. Rory thought over everything that had happened since Nick had blown back into her life. She hadn’t been the same since he’d walked across the threshold of her office.

She’d been so frightened, so suspicious. Nick had accused her of being an adventurer at heart, but Rory had closed her ears, wanting to keep her safe, ordered world intact.

I know you
, he’d said in a tone that suggested deep, private secrets shared between the two of them.

Rory picked up a stone, plunking it into the duck pond, encouraging the whole flock of darkly feathered ducks to skim toward her, hoping for a handout.

Well, she knew him, too. And he’d run true to color in the end, rejecting her when the going got sticky.

But he did tell you he loved you.

And then he took it away.

The ducks honked noisily, flapping their wings and fighting for position in front of Rory. “Sorry, I’m empty-handed,” she apologized, turning back toward her car.

She thought briefly about going back to the hospital, but headed home instead. She wasn’t strong enough to face Nick, yet. She needed to work out some things first anyway.

At her apartment she passed by a Porsche parked at the curb and had to do a double-take before she recognized it.
Nick!
Throwing open her door, Rory glanced up to her balcony. There was no one there.

Walking slowly up the front steps, she glanced back down to the street several times. That
was
Nick’s car. She was certain of it. So where was he?

She nearly jumped from her skin when her apartment door opened in front of her face. “Nick!” she shrieked.

“Rory.” He looked surprised, too.

Problem streaked outside, darting down the stairs.

“I was just letting the cat out,” he explained.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Your neighbor, Mr. Little, saw me sitting on the stoop and took pity on me. I guess he has a key to your apartment, because he let me in.”

Rory shook her head to clear the cobwebs as Nick stepped aside, then closed the door behind her. For once the room didn’t feel so bare. Nick’s presence filled the empty spaces. “He was feeding Problem some of the time while I was at Michelle’s,” she said. “I’m surprised he let you in. He’s normally so cautious.”

Nick smiled faintly. “I think he decided after waiting three hours that I wasn’t going to rob the place.” He glanced at the sling on his left arm. “And I imagine I don’t look like much of a threat.”

Rory met his amused gaze, resisting the urge to run her hand along his bruised cheek. The swelling had receded, but the cuts and blackening around his eye gave him a dangerous, raffish air. “You shouldn’t have left the hospital,” she said, turning away. “And you shouldn’t have waited all this time for me. You could have just called.”

“Well, my phone’s probably at the bottom of the ocean, and I needed to talk to you.”

“I was at Michelle’s.”

“I know, but I figured you’d show up here sooner or later.”

Rory glanced back uncertainly. She loved the way his hair smoothed dramatically away from his forehead, the lines of humor surrounding his eyes, the slant of his mouth. “What was so important that couldn’t wait until you feel better?”

“Well…” He stretched, wincing a bit at the strain on his arm. “You were trying to tell me something at the hospital, but you never got it out.”

“I was just so relieved that you were going to be all right. It just about killed me when I thought…” She shuddered.

“What were you going to say?”

“I‌—‌I don’t know.”

“I lied to you about not being in love with you,” he said. Rory stared at him, fighting back the surge of joy that threatened her common sense. “Did you really think I would tell you I loved you if I didn’t mean it?”

“But at the hospital—”

“Forget what I said at the hospital. I was really down, worried sick about Marsden, who, by the way, is getting better by the hour. I was still suffering the effects of the night before. I didn’t mean it. You’d hurt me, and I wanted to hurt you back.”

After that speech Nick sank down onto the couch, laying his head back and closing his eyes. Rory was instantly filled with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked quickly.

“Yes, I’m okay,” he answered with difficulty.

“I’m glad about John.” Rory hovered uncertainly. “You should’ve stayed in the hospital. This is crazy.”

“No, I’m fine. Truly. Sit down.”

Rory perched on the edge of the couch; her eyes searched his face. He was pale beneath his tan. “Can I get you anything?”

He lifted his lashes until his eyes were too silvery slits. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what you meant to tell me at the hospital.”

“How do you know that—”

“Say it, Rory. Say how you feel about me.”

“I think you might have misinterpreted…”

“
Say it!
”

She looked at him helplessly. She had been about to tell him she loved him. He knew it. But she had always struggled to admit her feelings and called on the spot, she felt the words would come out mangled and dull-sounding.

“I’ve written it down for years, ever since we met.”

“Written it down?” He frowned.

“The words… my feelings. In a journal,” she said softly. “A diary, I guess. I started in the third grade and though there’ve been times when I left it for years, I’ve just recently been keeping it up again.” She flushed, embarrassed to add, “You’re my main subject.”

“Really?” His lips curved.

“Yes, you egotist.”

“Well, where is it?”

Rory thought of all the moments she’d recorded: her feelings after she’d caught her father with his lover; the misery she’d felt over Nick’s marriage; the love she’d finally admitted to. Her most private thoughts and fears, all the emotions she’d kept hidden from the outside world, would be there on paper, raw, bare and unedited. It was the biggest risk she’d ever taken.

Without a word she went into the bedroom and found the diary, returning to the living room before she lost the courage.

She handed it to him with a shade of reluctance. “It stops at your wedding, but I have more on my laptop. You’re my friend…” she murmured in a voice unsteady with emotion. “And the only man I’ve really ever loved. But even though I trust you, I’ve always been afraid you’d turn out like my father somehow.” Drawing a breath of courage, she added, “When I was seventeen, I caught my father in the arms of his lover. They were at my house, my mother’s house, drinking champagne, kissing and… having sex against the kitchen counter. I told myself I would never trust a man. Any man.”

Comprehension slashed across his face. “You never told me.”

She shook her head. “But it’s all in there.”

Nick’s gaze turned to the book lying on his palm with the winking jewel on its cover. “You’re trusting me with this?”

Rory lifted her shoulders, unable to speak. He reached a hand over, yanking her down beside him once more.

“I love you, Rory,” he said fiercely, cupping her chin, and kissing her with so much emotion that her limbs turned to water. She lay limp beside him, reveling in the taste of him. “I’ve loved you from the moment you saved that poor frog.”

She laughed against his mouth. “Oh, come on. No more lying, Nick. You did marry Jenny Sumpter.”

“Only because she reminded me of you.” Rory pulled back, her blue eyes wide and suspicious. Nick’s gray ones stared right back. “Oh, I didn’t know it at the time, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. But that’s why I married her. I wanted her to
be
you, because I couldn’t have the genuine article.” Softly he added, “I told you, didn’t I, that I never really loved her.”

“You told me, and I thought that you meant you couldn’t love anyone.”

“Maybe that’s what I wanted you to think. I didn’t really want to face my feelings, either. Your rejections hurt.”

She drew his mouth back to hers, rubbing her lips against his. “I only rejected you because the timing wasn’t right, and because I was afraid. I promise I won’t be afraid anymore.” A pause, and she whispered, “I love you, Nick. Pinkie swear.” She lifted her pinkie, and with a whoop of joy he grabbed her, kissed her hard, then hooked his little finger through hers.

“That’s a solemn oath, y’know,” he said.

“I know.”

“So, will you solemnly swear to marry me?” he asked casually, his gaze traveling back to the diary. Across the front ‘Rory’s Diary’ was written in bold third-grade handwriting, the dot of the i a tiny circle.

Nick turned to the first page and read:

I met a new boy at school today. He’s in the third grade in my room. He got hit by those mean sixth graders. There was lots and lots of blood. He saved my life!!!! His name is Nick.

He slid her a sideways glance, amusement tugging at his lips.

“I solemnly swear,” Rory answered with love shining from her eyes. “After all, you saved my life.”