Leave it to Max (Lori's Classic Love Stories Volume 1) (27 page)

At peace, Garrett followed her with dreams of
the past and the present merging into one future.

He awoke all tangled up in her. In the depths
of the night she’d turned to him again. Silent and sure they’d
shared their bodies, shared love without a single word.

He lay with her warm at his side as dawn
grayed the windows. This was the first time they’d ever slept the
night through together, and the beauty of it, the perfect rightness
in such a small thing, humbled him.

She’d lost her camisole. Actually, he’d lost
it for her, and she lay nestled against him, skin to skin. Her
breasts appeared heavier, the veins blue against the pale satin
smoothness. He longed to love her in the light, to run his tongue
along those veins, over the auburn peaks and down into the
alabaster valleys.

With words like those someone might mistake
him for a writer.

He missed it all of a sudden—picking one word
over another, putting this sentence before that, the characters who
became so real he heard them talking sometimes, their lives not a
fable but his mission, and most strangely, but wonderfully, the way
everything sucked until, miraculously, it didn’t.

That was writing. What was he going to do
without it?

Livy and Max just might make up for the loss
of all he’d held dear, because now he couldn’t think of anything
more dear than his son and the woman who had given birth to
him.

Garrett inched away. If he continued to touch
Livy and think pretty thoughts, he’d want her again, and she looked
so tired. She’d had a rough day yesterday.

After throwing on shorts, a shirt and some
shoes, Garrett trotted down the hall to check on his son. The boy
snored on fast asleep.

Garrett went downstairs to start the coffee.
As he passed the table in the hall, the package from Andrew shouted
his name. He hesitated, tempted to throw the thing away, but
curiosity won out and he yanked open the envelope.

A letter and a legal document spilled out.
Maybe Andrew was suing him.

Dear Garrett,

Since you’ve decided to turn off your phone
so I won’t bother you, I’ve had to resort to courier.

Garrett hadn’t turned off the phone; he just
hadn’t charged the battery in weeks.
Oops.

I’ve been waiting patiently for your next
gag gift, but it hasn’t come. I’m beginning to think the joke is on
me. No book. Ha-ha. Is that the joke, Garrett? If so I’m not
laughing.

I know you. If you had something, I’d have
it by now. So I’ve included a contract for a new house. Get there,
get the book done, or you’re done. You signed a contract. We gave
our word. Whatever’s gotten into you, get it out. This is your big
chance. Do not blow it.

Andrew.

The contract was for a house in Alaska. Talk
about getting away. He stuffed the letter into his pocket, then
tossed the envelope and contract back on the table before he
wandered onto the porch.

Andrew was right. He had agreed to write a
book, and if he reneged now he’d better be dead for real because he
would be dead in publishing.

The inertia that had plagued him since he’d
discovered Max was fast dissolving and the familiar panic was
taking its place. He might
want
to write the book, but the
book did not want to be written, at least not by him.

He had a son now. If he played things right,
he might have a family. Did he dare reach for the magic when his
own magic was gone? What else did he know but writing?

Not one damn thing. Without it he was just
J.J. again, the wandering loser Livy would rather say was dead than
claim as the father of her son.

What had happened between them last night had
touched him deeply. He’d thought it had touched Livy, too. Yet
despite his ability to break through the barrier and tell her how
he felt, she hadn’t said a word about love or the future.

Once, she’d been the only person who saw him
as special. Then he’d walked out on her and proven her belief in
him a lie. Would she always see him as that worthless boy? Most
likely, since he was very close to losing his standing as a
worthwhile man.

Livy awoke alone. That wasn’t new. But
considering she awoke in Garrett’s bed, in Garrett’s house, she
didn’t like it.

Sitting up, she shoved her tangled hair from
her face. The room resembled the set of an X-rated movie—or what
she imagined one to be: clothes tossed everywhere, her camisole
hanging from the lamp, sheets crumpled, the quilt peeking from
under the bed.

Last night she’d needed Garrett and he’d been
there. His touch had soothed her sadness. She’d been at home,
feeling lost and alone, so she’d called Kim and ended up listening
to her machine. Rosie had gone out. And as good a friend as Klein
had proved to be, she didn’t want to talk to him. She’d wanted to
be near her son. She’d wanted—no, she’d needed—Garrett.

Last night had been spectacular. So why did
she feel so unsettled?

Because he’d told her he loved her, and she
hadn’t been able to say the words back. He’d blindsided her when
she’d least expected it. She had not been thinking of love; she’d
been living the lust.

And once her mind cleared, the thought of
saying “I love you” had brought a superstitious fear that if she
uttered those words again, he’d run just as he had the last
time.

But this wasn’t last time, and she had to
stop comparing then and now.

Livy got up. She found her underwear on the
floor, then a robe in the closet. Though she really could use some
coffee, she took a jaunt down the hall and peeked into every
room.

Garrett’s belongings were all still there.
Max slept in a tangle of covers on a pullout couch. She resisted
the urge to kiss him. With her luck, he’d wake up and start in on
her like his gramma and Kim. She could really use a few more
moments of peace.

But peace was not to be found. Nor was
Garrett Stark. As Livy meandered through the place, she discovered
that she and Max were the only living beings in the house.

‘‘Like the last living cells in a dead body,”
she murmured, and gave an evil-sounding laugh.

Her joke did not seem funny. Nothing did when
she entered the foyer and saw an orange, white and purple envelope
on the table along with some legal-size documents. Though she knew
she shouldn’t, she picked them up anyway.

“Alaska?” Her voice trembled.

Insane as it was, Livy ran outside. He wasn’t
on the porch. She ran down the walk and straight into the
sisters.

“Olivia!” Miss Violet let her gaze wander
from Livy’s tousled head, down the man’s robe, to Livy’s bare feet.
“How incredibly tacky.”

“Thank you,” Livy said absently, looking up,
then down, the street. The sisters were the only people out and
about at this hour of a Saturday morning. Lucky her.

“We were on our way to speak with Rosie,”
Miss Viola said. “But since you’re here, you may as well tell
her.”

“What now?” She did not need her mother
arrested today.

“We wanted her to know that we don’t want the
goose back. She’s no doubt shipped it to some farm and it’s ruined
now anyway.” Miss Viola leaned over and whispered, “Consorting with
common geese will do that.”

“Rosie doesn’t have it.”

“You keep on believing that, dear.” Miss
Violet patted Livy’s arm.

They began to walk toward home, but paused
after only a few steps and turned back.

“Were you looking for someone, Olivia?” Miss
Violet asked.

“Garrett.”

“The boy’s father?”

“Yes.” It felt good to say that, almost
liberating. So she said it again. “Max’s father, Garrett
Stark.”

“He drove off in his car.” Miss Violet
pointed down the street. “That way.”

All of Livy’s good feelings evaporated.
“Drove off?”

“He was in an awful hurry.” She sniffed.
“Yankees always are.”

Livy didn’t notice when the sisters left this
time.

Drove off? Hurry?
Alaska
? He
couldn’t have. Not again. Not when Max loved him so. Not when she
loved him.

Why hadn’t she told him? Pride? Superstition?
Both seemed silly in the face of all she felt now.

Livy sat on the porch steps as the sun spread
over the street, over her. She was numb, confused. She didn’t know
what to believe. When the door opened and Max sat down next to her,
she didn’t know what to say.

This was why she hadn’t wanted to tell Max
the truth. She did not want to see the echo of abandonment in her
son’s eyes. She didn’t know if she could bear it.

“Hey, Mom.”

She cleared her throat. “Hey, baby.”

“Mo-om.”

“Sorry. Max.”

“Did you sleep here, too?”

Answer only one question at a time, she’d
learned. Don’t tell him more than he wanted to know. “Uh-huh.”

“Too bad you missed the popcorn and the
movie.”

He seemed to have completely forgiven her for
any transgressions. Unfortunately, there might be a few more coming
his way.

“Where’s Dad?”

“I’m not sure.” True enough.

“Why did he rent a house in Alaska?”

Damn!
She’d left the contract on the
table where she’d found it.

“He doesn’t live here. He’s only
visiting.”

“But now that he’s got me, he’ll have to
stay.” His dark eyes were full of hope. “We’ll all live together
and you’ll marry him.”

“Sometimes things don’t work out the way we
want them to.”

“Sure they do. I’ve been wantin’ this so bad
it can’t
not
come true.”

Livy touched his hair. He pulled away. So
much for forgiveness.

“Believing in yourself is great, Max. And if
you believe you can do something hard enough, I believe you can.
But changing what is, making people do things they don’t want to
do... You can’t make that happen just by wishing it.”

Max shook his head, spilling hair into his
eyes. “But he
is
my real dad. I believed it and it came
true.”

“It was always true. Your believing it didn’t
make it that way.”

“I don’t get it.”

Livy sighed. “Neither do I.”

“You think Dad left us again?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t!” Max jumped to his feet. “He
wouldn’t. He loves me.”

“He does.”

“He wouldn’t run off like he did before. I
believe in Dad. Can’t you?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why can’t you forgive him? I forgive
you.”

“Thank you. But—”

“There is no ‘but,’ Mom. I love you. You love
me. Even when you lied, I still loved you. Even when I mess up, you
love me. Because that’s what love is, right?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you love Dad?”

“Of course.”

“So when he messed up, you stopped? That’s
not love, Mom.”

Cars passed on the street. Doors slammed on
the block. The world was waking up. Maybe it was time Livy did,
too.

Her son was right. He so often was. In the
simple faith of a child so much wisdom could be found.

“I never stopped loving him,” she
admitted.

“Thank you.”

The deep voice made Livy leap to her feet.
Garrett stood on the walk in torn running shorts and a sweaty white
T-shirt. He’d never looked so good.

Her first thought was—
he’s back.
Then
she understood that he’d never left, and from the expression in his
eyes, he never would.

Livy jumped down the steps and into his
arms.

* * *

In shock from hearing Livy say she’d never
stopped loving him, Garrett still managed to catch her when she
landed in his arms. He even managed to kiss her, quite thoroughly,
even though he really wanted to talk.

He’d been scared, thinking about the worst
thing that could happen—that Livy no longer loved him and she never
would. He’d tried to figure out how he’d handle that. How on earth
could he face that fear and turn it around? And he’d lit on the
truth. He couldn’t. If Livy didn’t love him, there was no help for
it no matter how much that hurt.

Garrett lifted his mouth from hers, looked
about for Max, only to discover his son had disappeared. Smart
kid.

In Livy’s eyes, he saw everything he’d always
wanted right there in her.

“I love you,” she said.

His heart stuttered with hope. He wanted to
believe, but he still had to ask. “For Max? Or yourself?”

“Both. We need you. Stay with us. Alaska
sucks.”

“You saw the contract?’ ’

“Kind of hard to miss.”

“Let me explain—”

“You don’t have to. We were both kids once
and we both made mistakes. But now we have a child, and we’ll still
make mistakes. But we should make them together.”

Garrett removed himself from her embrace. Her
face reflected the uncertainty in his heart.

“Last night you told me you loved me,” she
murmured. “Was
that
only for Max? Because I’m not going to
keep him from you. You don’t have to say something you don’t mean
just so you can see your son.

“Livy.” He spread his hands, helpless to say
what he felt. He’d never been good at talking, only writing, once
upon a time. But he tried now, for her. “I never told another woman
that I loved her because there’s never been another woman for me
but you. Once, you said you loved me and I ran. I didn’t know if I
could love you the way you needed me to.”

“Just loving me is enough. Why do you think
you have to be something other than what you are?”

“What am I?” He threw up his hands. “A writer
who can’t write. A man who has no other profession but
make-believe.”

“I’ve told you before—you’re Max’s father.
You’re the man I love. To me, to us, you’re everything. I love you,
Garrett. That hasn’t changed in nine years without you—it isn’t
going to change now.”

Torn, he put his hands on her shoulders.
“Even if I have to go away for a while?”