Fairytale Not Required (15 page)

Her belongings had felt full and complete in her old place, but in this place, her life felt woefully inadequate. She swallowed nervously. "Do you want a drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

She pressed her lips together, suddenly embarrassed. "Tap water. I haven't gone shopping yet, and I used up everything when I thought I was going to move."

One slow eyebrow went up. "Tap water is fine. Do you have glasses?"

"Of course I do." She quickly turned and opened the cabinet to grab her glasses, but as she looked at them, suddenly she saw them for the first time. Four mismatched, scratched glasses, scavenged at the same garage sale that had provided her bedframe. They were beautifully engraved, full of interesting curves, which is why she'd loved them, but they were old and well-used. Suddenly she wished she had a set of beautiful, pristine matching glasses, ones that would be good enough for a wealthy doctor from New York.

She snuck a peek at Jason, and this time, she didn't see the sawdust and the paint. She saw jeans that fit him perfectly, boots of high quality leather, and the sculpted cheekbones of a beautiful man. She thought of his luxurious, expensive car. Of the fact he'd been able to afford this amazing property even after walking away from his career and any steady source of income. How did she look to a man like him? How did her little world look to a man like him?

"I'll take the one on the right," Jason said, reaching past her to pluck her favorite glass off the shelf. He held it up, inspecting it. "This is incredibly cool. Are these hand blown? I've never seen designs like this."

She swallowed. "I don't know. I found them at a garage sale."

"Yeah, I would bet you'd have to. I doubt anyone takes the time to make things this beautiful anymore." He grabbed another one. "This one good for you?"

She stared at him, a warm feeling suffusing her as he filled their glasses. "You like the glasses?"

"Hell, yeah," he said as he handed her one. "My mom used to collect glasses and plates," he said. "Every single thing in our kitchen was one of a kind. Coffee cups, plates, silverware, you name it. She had an incredible knack for finding this stuff." He ran his hand over the glass, turning it to watch the light refract. "I forgot how she used to do that," he said. "It's cool."

A slow smile spread across Astrid's face, and the tension eased from her. "My mom used to steal glasses from whatever man she was walking out on," she said. "Not quite the same thing—" Oh...crap. Had she just said that aloud?

"Yeah?" Jason raised his eyebrows at her as he settled back against the counter, holding his glass loosely between his fingers. "Tell me about your mom."

"Um, no." She turned and walked away, sitting down on one of the smaller boxes that she was using for a seat. It was beside a larger box that had become her table. "So, the pizza will be ready in a couple minutes. How's the cafe coming along?" She smiled at him, trying to give her most charming grin to distract him from asking any more questions about her mother.

Jason narrowed his eyes as he studied Astrid. She had such a wall around her, just like his former wife had. But he'd seen past Astrid's defenses before. He knew there was more to her. There was softness, passion, vibrant energy and warmth. How did he get to it?

This woman, this mysterious, aloof woman was carrying his child. He had to know more. He had to find out what she was like, what he was facing with her.

He walked across the room and sat on another box. It sagged beneath his weight, but he didn't get up. If Astrid wanted to sit on boxes, he'd sit on boxes. "The store is not going well," he admitted, trying to get comfortable on the box that was sinking lower and lower beneath him. "It's in bad shape, and I'm scheduled to open on the Fourth. I haven't even found my recipes yet."

"Recipes?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Wait a second. Don't you have a chef you're planning to hire?"

"Nope. I'm the chef." He moved his box against the wall and leaned back against it. Ah...better.

"How does that figure?" She studied him with eyes that were clearly trying to ferret out his secrets, and he grinned, realizing he was enjoying her scrutiny, her need for answers about who he was. "You're planning to open a pizza shop with homemade pies, and yet you can't reheat one in your own kitchen?"

"Yeah, well, I lied about not being able to find my stove." He stretched his legs out, trying to uncramp them after being on his knees all day. "I wanted company. I saw your light on, and I figured I'd use the pizza as an excuse to get you to let me in."

"Oh." A pleased smile flitted at the corners of her mouth, and anticipation rolled through him as he realized she wasn't as detached from him as she'd tried to act. "You could have just asked."

"I did. You didn't answer the door until I said I had food." He narrowed his eyes, studying her. "How are you feeling? Have you made a doctor's appointment yet?"

Her cheeks immediately turned bright red. "I'm fine. I will handle the medical side of things. You don't need to concern yourself."

"But I do." He sat up and leaned forward. "Do you have medical insurance, Astrid? Can you afford a doctor?"

She leapt to her feet and paced restlessly away from him. "Stop it," she said. "Just because I live here doesn't mean you can control me."

"I'm not trying to control you." Jason stood up, energy coursing through him at Astrid's resistance. "But that's my child you're carrying, and I want to make sure you both are safe."

"We're fine—"

He caught her arm, turning her toward him. "Astrid, the fact you lost a baby before might mean that it could happen again. You need to get to a doctor who can run tests to find out whether there is any preventative treatment that you need to have."

"Stop it!" She pulled her arm out of his grip, her eyes blazing. "I know that! Don't you think I know that? It's my problem. I'll deal with it."

"Shit, Astrid, it's not your issue alone. I'm in this with you. Together. As a team, not as someone trying to control you." He saw her composure unraveling and he didn't know how to help her. "Talk to me, Astrid. What did I do? Why are you freaking out on me?"

She slipped out the window onto the deck and leaned on the railing, staring out into the night. Jason ground his jaw and followed her, easing out onto the narrow deck behind her. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, and the night was filled with the sounds of nature, sounds that Jason hadn't heard since he'd left Minnesota for school.

Astrid wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her arms to her chest as she faced the lake.

After a moment, Jason set his hands on either side of her hips and leaned forward, trapping her between his body and the railing.

She stiffened, but she didn't move away, and Jason became increasingly aware of the intimacy of their position. It was altogether too much like when they'd been on the rock. That moment had led to lovemaking, which meant he should back off now and make sure that didn't happen.

But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Astrid," he said quietly. "We've got to work through this together. Don't shut me out. Talk to me. What's going on?"

God, it felt amazing the way Jason was holding her. Barely touching her, not trapping her, just feeding her his strength and warmth. Astrid bit her lip, struggling to hold her composure. "I'm scared," she finally whispered.

"Me, too, sweetheart," he said. "Me, too."

"You are?" She hadn't expected that response. Jason was all about strength and power.

"Yeah." His hands slipped off the railing. He wrapped his arms around her waist, easing her back against his chest. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn't make herself do it. It just felt too good to be held. "What are you afraid of?"

"Everything."

"Such as?"

"God, everything." She leaned her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes, focusing on the strength of his body against hers. "I failed last time, Jason. So completely. In every way."

Jason rubbed his jaw against her cheek, his whiskers bristling against her skin. "Were you married before? What happened with the baby's father?"

Astrid bit her lip. How could she tell him what happened? She looked like such a fool. A pathetic victim. She didn't want anyone to look at her like that anymore. She wanted to be strong, and to have Jason see her as a woman who could stand on her own. "I'd rather not talk about it." She tensed, expecting him to push, but he didn't.

He was just quiet, and she began to relax.

"My wife's name was Kate," he said, resting his cheek against hers. "She was a dermatologist who specialized in cosmetic treatments. She had pioneered some new treatments that were all the rage in Hollywood, and celebrities were constantly flying out to New York to get treated by her. She was a star, and she loved it."

Astrid bit her lip against the wave of inadequacy. Jason's former wife was a famous and ground-breaking doctor with celebrity clients? As opposed to Astrid, who was a broke, creatively-challenged artist with a stained childhood and tainted family history. The difference was grim and depressing, a bleak stamp of reality on any fantasies about her and Jason.

Suddenly, Astrid wanted out of his arms, away from the façade that he was concerned about her as a woman. How could he possibly be interested in her romantically, after being married to a woman like that? She was nothing compared to that, and she knew it. "I need to go check the pizza." She pushed at him, but his grip tightened in unspoken refusal.

"Kate didn't want to be burdened with a family and kids," he said. "When Noah was born, she barely even acknowledged him. As I told you, she wanted to abort Lucas." There was bitterness in his voice now, anger and guilt, emotions that touched her heart, because she knew what it was like to love someone who didn't have any love to give.

Instinctively, she put her hand over his and squeezed lightly.

Jason flipped his hand over to hold hers, needing her touch as he re-opened memories that bit so deeply. "There was very little left in our marriage," he said, recalling the silence of their condo when he'd get home late. The closed door to their bedroom telling him to sleep in the guest bedroom. The coolness of his wife's body language when they ran into each other in the mornings. "And when Lucas died, there was nothing left between us. Kate disassociated herself from me and Noah. The marriage became in name only, if that."

Astrid turned to face him, and he saw compassion in her eyes, true understanding. He cupped her face and bent his head, brushing his lips over hers, needing the touch of someone so emotional and alive.

"Did you divorce her?" There was an edge to Astrid's voice, a ripple of judgment and fear.

"No." Shit, he should have. He should have had that mercy. "I decided that I couldn't live like that anymore. I was reeling from Lucas's death, and I wanted to try to hold onto the family. I rented a place on Nantucket for a week, and I ordered her to take the week off from work."

Astrid studied him. "Really?"

"Yeah. She showed up two days late, on the eve of a huge storm, and I was pissed." He ran his hands through Astrid's hair, using the silkiness of the strands to ground him, to keep that night at bay. "It was bad shit, what went down between us that night. Things you don't say to the person you're married to." Guilt burned in him for the blame he'd thrown at her for Lucas's death in his attempt to breach that cold wall of emotional distance she'd erected around herself. "She got angry and walked out. She said she was going back to New York. She wanted to get out before the storm stranded her there, because she couldn't abide being with me another moment."

Suddenly, Jason was back there in that night, standing there in the doorway of the cottage, watching Kate stalk down to the car she'd rented. The wind had been raging, the rain wild, the seas high and relentless, and he'd stood there and watched her go. He hadn't tried to stop her. "The storm was closing in fast, but she bribed one of the pilots to take her anyway, and I didn't stop her. I was just fucking tired of fighting with her, and I let her go." He met Astrid's gaze. "The plane crashed less than a half mile offshore. Both she and the pilot were dead."

"Oh." Astrid's hand went to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Jason gave her a grim smile. "See, that's the thing, Astrid. I wasn't sorry. Not the way I should have been. When the cops came and told me what had happened, all I felt was this huge sense of relief. Relief.
Relief.
" He met her gaze, baring the truth to the woman who needed to know what he was like, because she was stuck with him in her life, at least on some level. "My own wife had died in a tragic accident, and I didn't feel even one moment of grief. I just sat there and thanked God that Noah would not have to grow up realizing he was stuck with a mother who didn't love him. My son had lost his mother, and all I felt was relief."

That was it. That was all he had to say. That was who he was.

Astrid stared at him, but he couldn't read her expression. "What?" he urged. "Talk to me."

"And now," she asked. "Do you feel sadness now?"

He grimaced. "No, and I know I'm a total bastard for the fact I don't. I know I betrayed Kate by letting her get on that plane when I knew how bad the weather was. I feel guilty about that, and every day I look at my son, I know that I'm responsible for the fact he doesn't have a little brother or a mother. I fucked up his life, Astrid, and I'm making it worse with every choice I make, but no, I still don't grieve Kate's death, not the way I should. I grieve the fact that I don't, and for what kind of a person that makes me."

Astrid couldn't believe it, but she knew Jason was telling her the truth. He truly did not grieve the loss of his wife. "I don't understand. How could you not care about her?"

He shook his head. "I ask myself that every day." His voice was anguished, tormented, but Astrid could barely register it, she was so consumed by his confession. How could he not care about the woman he'd made so many promises to? "It was my job to find a way to connect us. If I'd tried harder, if I'd cared about my marriage and my kids enough, there must have been a way to salvage everything. But I was working almost as hard as she was, and I didn't do shit to make it happen."