Loving Jessie (28 page)

Jessie stared at him. She felt hopelessly inadequate to deal with this kind of pain. She wasn’t a therapist, trained in dealing with grief or guilt or post-traumatic whatever. But she was his wife and his friend, and she knew him as well or better than anyone else, knew who he was and what he was.

“They didn’t kill that poor girl because of you, Matt. They’d dragged her into the street and were roughing her up before they saw you. And if they did… If they did shoot her because they wanted to be famous, it still wasn’t your fault.”

“No?” He lifted his head, looked at her with eyes gone dark and empty. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but what if I helped it happen? What if I was thinking about getting a Pulitzer and just didn’t think about the fact that there was a real live human in front of the lens?”

“Were you thinking about a Pulitzer?” Jessie asked, calm in the face of his sharpness.

“No.” He seemed indignant, then caught himself, and a trace of humor crept into his eyes, pushing back the darkness. “Using logic is very sneaky, Jessie.”

“Sorry.” She allowed herself a small smile. She reached up, cupping her hand against his cheek. “There’s no way of knowing what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. Maybe they would have killed her anyway. Maybe they wouldn’t have. Maybe they would have
gone on a rampage and killed a dozen people. The point is,
you
didn’t kill her.”

“If the fact that I was there made them—”

“No.” Jessie put her fingers against his mouth. “No. You didn’t kill her.”

The look in his eyes reminded her of a small child who wanted to believe that the goblins under the bed weren’t real but still had doubts. She wanted to take him in her arms and cuddle him, chase the bad dreams away, the way her parents had when she was little. And maybe that was exactly what he needed, what they both needed.

She reached behind him and stacked the pillows up against the headboard before lying back against them. Taking hold of his arm, she tugged him toward her. “Come here.”

Matt hesitated for a long moment, pulling back against her hold, but she refused to release him, and he eventually gave in, let her pull him down, his head resting against her breast, his arm lying heavy across her stomach. She combed her fingers through his thick, dark hair, feeling him gradually relax against her, his long body sliding closer, one knee over her thigh, felt the heat of his skin through the layers of his pajamas and her nightgown.

She didn’t talk, but she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of having him close. It had only been a little over a week since he’d held her, touched her, but it seemed like forever. She’d missed him—missed this—more than she would ever have believed possible. He’d always been a part of her life, but somehow, in the last couple of months, he’d become…necessary in a way no one else had ever been.

Matt’s breathing slowed, deepened, his body going lax against hers, and Jessie cradled him closer, listening to the rain spatter against the windows as she kept him safe.
They still had a ways to go, but, for the first time, she was sure they were going to make it.

She was just sliding a pound cake into the oven when she heard the doorbell ring the next afternoon. Punching the start button on the timer, she went to answer it, feeling her stomach drop when she saw Reilly standing on the porch. The rain had stopped, but the weather was still cold and gray, dulling the dirty blond of his hair, muting the green of his eyes.

“Hi.” He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, hunching his shoulders inside the supple leather of his jacket, his expression wary, as if he was uncertain of his welcome.

“Hi.” Offering up a furtive prayer that Matt wouldn’t come home earlier than usual, Jessie stepped back to invite him in. He pushed the door shut behind him and then stood in the entryway, not quite looking at her.

“I…uh…just wanted to see how you were.”

“I’m fine.” After a moment’s hesitation, she led the way into the living room. Somehow, the kitchen just didn’t seem appropriate right now. “How are you?”

God, they sounded so stilted, like a textbook lesson on manners.

“Okay.” Reilly didn’t take off his jacket. Instead, he slid his hands in the pockets. He looked at her and smiled a little, shrugging one shoulder. “Actually, not great. I…ah…told Dana about…what happened and she threw me out.”

“Oh, Reilly, I’m so sorry.” The awkwardness was forgotten. Jessie closed the short distance between them and put her hand on his arm. “She’ll get past it, Reilly. I mean, it was only a kiss.”

“Yeah.” He frowned, looking as if he wanted to say
something more, and then changed his mind. “How’s Matt?”

Jessie drew back, putting a little distance between them. “He was very upset, of course. But he… We’re working things out.”

“Good. Good. I mean, that’s great. Really great.” Reilly nodded, glanced at her, looked around the living room, glanced at her again, and then fixed his gaze on the mantel. He cleared his throat and spoke rapidly. “Look, about what happened last week. I don’t want you to think that I’m…on the make or anything. Toward you, I mean. Not that any guy wouldn’t want to be. But I—” He broke off, looking so miserably uncomfortable that Jessie took pity on him.

“It was just an impulse,” she said. “A stupid impulse on both our parts.”

“Yeah.” He seemed relieved, a little of the tension leaving his shoulders. This time, when he looked at her, his eyes held. “You’re one of my best friends, Jessie. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose Matt, either. You guys are…you’re family and I don’t have a whole hell of a lot of that. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”

“You’re not going to lose us,” Jessie said, hoping she was telling the truth, determined to make it the truth. It would be ridiculous to let one meaningless little kiss ruin twenty years of friendship, not to mention Reilly’s marriage. She drew a deep breath. “Would you like me to talk to Dana? Try and explain?”

“No.” Reilly shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it would be a good idea. Dana and I had…issues before this.”

Jessie nodded and tried not to look too terribly relieved. If he’d wanted her to, she would have tried to talk
to Dana, but she had to admit that she had no idea what you were supposed to say to another woman when you’d been caught kissing her husband. She was fairly sure Miss Manners didn’t have a chapter on that particular sticky social situation.

“You and Matt, you’re sure you’re going to be okay?” Reilly asked, eyes anxious.

Jessie nodded, remembering the way Matt had opened up to her last night, the way he’d let her hold him. They
were
going to be all right, even though Matt might not know it yet. She’d been disappointed to wake and find him gone this morning, annoyed that one of the symptoms of early pregnancy seemed to be the tendency to sleep like the dead, so she hadn’t been aware of him leaving their bed. But her disappointment had been softened by the closeness they’d shared the night before. They were definitely on the road to all right.

“We’re going to be okay,” she told Reilly, and saw him relax at the conviction in her voice.

“Good.” He shook his head, his mouth curving in a rueful half smile. “You know, it seemed really weird at first, the idea of the two of you getting married. I mean, you were my friends, and it just seemed…weird to think about you two married.”

“It seemed a little weird to me at first, too,” Jessie admitted, and he grinned, a quick flash of teeth, gone in an instant.

“Yeah, well, I figured I’d get used to the idea, but the two of you…fit. Seeing you together, it’s like seeing two halves of a whole, like you were just waiting to come together. You just…fit.”

It shouldn’t have seemed so profound. She already knew that she and Matt fit, better than she’d ever imagined possible, but there was something about hearing
someone else say it—hearing Reilly say it—that really hit home.
Like we were waiting to come together
. That was exactly what it felt like, she thought, feeling something soft and warm unfurl in her chest.

She’d been waiting for something—someone—her whole life, and she’d thought it was Reilly, thought he was what she needed to make everything complete. But it hadn’t been him at all. She looked at him now, and he didn’t look any different. The rumpled blond hair, the gray-green eyes, the crooked smile, it was all the same. But it was all different. She looked at him and she saw a dear friend, someone she loved, but this wasn’t the man she wanted to spend her life with. This wasn’t the man she pictured waking up next to in five or ten or twenty years.

She realized suddenly that she’d never pictured a lifetime with Reilly, only that initial white-hot moment when he looked at her and realized he loved her madly. It was different with Matt. Once past those first, confused moments after he’d asked her to marry him, she’d been able to see a future with him, had been able to see herself growing old with him.

“I love Matt,” she said, speaking half to herself.

“Of course you do.” Reilly shifted uneasily, as if a little uncomfortable with hearing her say the words. “I mean, it’s obvious the two of you are nuts about each other.”

“Is it?” She stared at him, wondering how it could be obvious to him when she had only just now realized the depth of her feelings.

“Sure.” He shrugged, as if surprised she’d asked but willing to indulge her. “The way you guys look at each other all the time. I had my doubts at first, but when I
saw you together, it was pretty obvious that this was the real thing.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said slowly, feeling the knowledge roll through her on a slow, sweet wave.

Reilly waited, but when she didn’t say anything else, he shifted the topic back to the reason for his visit. “I’d better get going,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure that you and I were okay.”

“We’re fine,” Jessie said. She blinked, focused her attention on him and gave him a sudden, dazzling smile. “We’re great.”

He looked a little surprised by her enthusiasm but returned her smile. “Good.”

She walked him to the door and saw him out, hardly hearing his goodbye. Closing the door behind him, she leaned back against it, wrapping her arms around herself, hugging this new and amazing knowledge to herself.

She loved Matt. No, she was
in
love with Matt. In love with the man she’d married, the father of her child. Jessie pressed one hand flat against her stomach and closed her eyes. If Reilly was right and Matt loved her, too… God, it was hardly possible to imagine that her wild idea to get Matt to father her child had a chance of turning out so impossibly, wonderfully, incredibly perfectly.

“S
o, you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Gabe leaned one shoulder against the half-open garage door and fixed Matt with a curious look.

“Came out of your cave, did you?” Matt asked, glancing up from the carburetor he was disassembling. Last time he’d seen his older brother, Gabe had been crashed facedown across his bed, fully dressed and snoring.

“Got the rewrites done around two o’clock last night. Printed them out and drove them to the post office.”

“On the off chance that a rogue postal employee would be there to snatch them up and send them off to New York?”

Gabe grinned. “Just wanted them in the mail. Came home and crashed. When I woke up, I realized you’ve rebuilt my house in the last week.”

“Not completely.” Matt picked up a rag and wiped the grease from his hands. The carburetor was in need of more help than he could give it. He would pack it up for now, and when he got around to rebuilding the engine,
he would take it to a mechanic and let him take a look at it. “I did some work in the bathroom is all.”

“Some work?” Gabe raised an eyebrow. “You’ve pretty much finished the whole job. I know I wasn’t paying much attention.” He ignored Matt’s snort at this understatement. “But I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed a construction crew, so you must have put in a lot of hours, and it’s now almost five o’clock.” He glanced at his watch for confirmation. “And you’re still here. Why?”

The simple question momentarily threw Matt. “Why what?”

“Why are you working twelve-hour days on my house and on this junk heap?” He stretched one long leg to poke the pitted rear bumper. “You made arrangements for
House and Garden
to pop by next week?”

“More like
Shack and Shed
,” Matt muttered.

Gabe grinned, but persisted. “You’ve got the Chevy entered in a classic car show?”

“Not unless I can display it in pieces.”

“So what’s with the excess work ethic?” Gabe asked. “Why are you out here freezing your ass off in this garage when you could be home cuddling by the fire with Jessie?”

“No reason,” Matt lied. “Actually, I was just heading home.” Another lie, but one he could easily make reality.

“Something on your mind?”

“Other than getting home to a nice home-cooked meal?”

“Low blow, little brother,” Gabe acknowledged, grinning. “But not as low as it would have been if I hadn’t already seen the leftovers in the fridge.”

“I told Jessie not to cast chicken casserole before swine.” Matt tossed the greasy rag on the cluttered workbench and moved toward the big door. Gabe had only
opened it a crack, and he stepped back as Matt approached, allowing him to step out into the chilly evening air.

“I would think Jessie’s pretty used to feeding swine by now,” Gabe said, falling into step with him as Matt walked to the Jeep.

“You’re right. She’s been feeding you for the last couple of months.”

Satisfied with the exchange of mild insults, and with having distracted his annoyingly observant older brother, Matt swung up into the Jeep and slid the key into the ignition. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Gabe said, lifting one hand in farewell.

He took his time driving home. It was stupid, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say when he saw Jessie again. How to act. He’d never, in his entire life, had someone hold him the way she’d held him last night, as if she was sheltering him from the world, keeping him safe from harm. Maybe she had. He’d slept like the proverbial dead after that, waking in the cool gray hour after dawn, still wrapped in her arms, though by then they’d shifted so that she was wrapped in his arms, too. He’d stayed there for several long, slow minutes, listening to the beat of her heart, the soft rhythm of her breathing. A week ago, he probably would have kissed her awake and made slow, sleepy love to her. But a week ago he hadn’t known she was pregnant and needed her sleep. A week ago he hadn’t seen her kissing Reilly.

He’d contented himself with settling one hand lightly over her stomach, trying to imagine his child lying there, safe beneath his touch. He still hadn’t absorbed the reality of it, not with everything else that had been going on.

Jessie had stirred, muttering something in her sleep, frowning a little. He’d responded automatically, brushing a kiss across her forehead and murmuring soft reassurances. Maybe she heard him, because the frown smoothed out and she relaxed back into the pillows. He’d waited a few more minutes before sliding out of bed, careful not to wake her. He hadn’t been ready to face her then, not after spilling his guts the night before.

He still wasn’t ready, he thought now. Acting on impulse, he flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the Jolly Pirate. He wasn’t quite ready to go home, not quite ready to face Jessie. He pulled into a parking space and got out, arching one brow at the sleek black Porsche in the next space. Dana McKinnon drove a car like that, but what were the odds that Dana would be hanging out at a blue-collar bar on a weeknight—or any other night, for that matter.

Pretty good, apparently, he decided, standing just inside the door, scanning the room as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There was no mistaking that slim, elegant figure or the pale gold of her hair, though there was something different about the hair. He considered it as he crossed the wooden floor to where she sat at the far end of the long bar. She’d cut it, he realized. The long, sleek fall had become a pixie-short cap of pale blond that curled against the back of her neck.

“Buy you a drink, little lady?” he asked as he sank onto the stool next to her. When she looked at him, he thought about withdrawing the offer. It looked like she’d already had more than enough. It was nothing obvious, but there was an unmistakable glaze to those beautiful blue eyes. The bartender, a tall, balding man with a toothpick clenched between his teeth, asked Matt what he
wanted to drink. He ordered a Coke. It looked like Dana had had more than enough for the both of them.

“Matt.” She blinked as if to bring him into sharper focus and then smiled. “How are you?”

“Not bad. How are you?” Not that he really needed to ask. He doubted she was sitting there, on her way to a royal drunk, because she was happy.

“I told him to leave,” she said, skipping right to the heart of the matter.

“Oh, hell. Dana, it was just a kiss.” Hearing himself, Matt shook his head, his mouth twisting in self-mocking humor. “It was… It wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”

“No?” Dana slid her glass back and forth between her fingers, her eyes on the idle movement. “I cut my hair.”

“I noticed. It looks great.”

“Reilly likes my hair long.” She said it with a look of such simple pleasure that Matt snorted with laughter.

“That’ll teach him.”

She gave him a surprised look and then smiled a little. “I suppose it is kind of childish.”

“Well, you know, you should never cut off your hair to spite someone else’s face,” he said, deadpan.

She laughed a little. “I suppose not.” She lifted her glass, tilting her head back to finish off the last of her drink before signaling the bartender for another. Matt caught the look she shot him, as if she was waiting for him to protest, but he didn’t say anything. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’ve had enough?”

“Have you?”

The simple question seemed to startle her. She blinked a couple of times and then nodded. “I’m teetering on the brink of plastered, but you don’t need to worry. I’m not a messy drunk.”

“Yeah, that was my number one concern,” Matt said dryly.

The bartender set another old-fashioned glass in front of her, and Matt caught the smoky scene of scotch. Not exactly a dainty drink, he thought, but not a bad choice if you were setting out to get plastered.

“Reilly thinks I drink too much,” she said abruptly.

“Do you?”

Again she gave him that long, slow look, her eyes not quite focused. “Do you always answer with a question?”

“I don’t know. Do I?” he asked slyly.

It took her a moment to process his response, and then she smiled, her eyes almost in focus for a moment. “Smart-ass.”

“Thanks.”

Dana fell silent again, her brief moment of humor gone as quickly as it had come. She rolled the glass back and forth between her palms, eyes on the aimless movement again. “When my mother was disappointed in me, she’d give me this look. This sort of sad, unhappy look, like she couldn’t understand where she’d gone wrong. Do you know that look, Matt?” She peered at him uncertainly in the dim light.

“Not particularly. When my father was disappointed in me, he beat the crap out of me.”

She stared at him in silence for a long moment, maybe trying to decide if he was serious, and then she sighed abruptly. “Was I being maudlin?”

“Just a little.” He smiled to take any sting from the words.

“God, maybe I
have
had too much to drink.” She straightened, swayed a little, and Matt put his arm behind her, ready to brace her. But she caught herself and fumbled for her purse.

“I got it,” Matt said, signaling the bartender. His brows rose at the total. If Dana had put away that much booze and was still upright and mostly functional, she was doing better than he would have been.

“Thank you.” She looked at him and sighed. “I suppose you’re going to insist on putting me in a cab.”

“No, I’m going to drive you home myself.” Matt tucked his wallet back in his pocket and put his hand under her elbow, steadying her as she slid off the stool.

“That’s very chilav…chiral…nice of you,” she said, giving up on multisyllable words for the moment.

Neither of them spoke during the drive. Glancing at her, Matt saw that she was leaning back against the leather seat, her eyes closed, and he wondered uneasily if she was feeling sick. If she was, she controlled it, and he gave a sigh of relief when he pulled up in front of the house. She let him help her out of the Jeep and lead her up the walkway. They stalled on the porch while she fumbled in her bag for the key, and then he was unlocking the door and leading her inside.

“Don’t go,” she said abruptly, the first words either of them had spoken since leaving the bar. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Matt hesitated, but, looking at the loneliness in her eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He knew what it was to be lonely, though it wasn’t until he’d married Jessie that he’d realized just how lonely he’d been. Jessie. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the entryway. She would be expecting him home soon, worrying if he didn’t show up.

“I’ve got to call home,” he said, and Dana smiled, recognizing it for the agreement it was. She set her hand on his arm.

“Thank you. I know it’s silly, but the house is so…empty.”

Yeah, he knew how that felt, too.

“Why don’t you sit down for a minute while I call Jessie and let her know I’m going to be late? Then we’ll get you upstairs and into bed.”

“It’s too early for bed,” she muttered, poking her lower lip out in a pout. She looked like a four-year-old, and Matt was startled to hear himself laugh.

“Trust me, you’re not going to be feeling like doing much else tonight.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted with a sigh. She made her way over to the stairs, walking carefully. Sinking bonelessly onto the next step up from the bottom, she leaned her head against the banister and closed her eyes. “I’ll just wait here.”

Shaking his head, Matt went to find a phone.

Jessie saw the light blinking on the answering machine when she came downstairs after taking a shower. Matt’s voice, sounding…what? Reserved? Uneasy? Just neutral? She wasn’t sure which, wasn’t sure what. But if she couldn’t read his tone, the words were certainly clear enough. He’d run into Dana McKinnon. She was…upset, and he’d taken her home, was going to stay with her until she felt better. Don’t wait up for him.

That was it? Jessie sank down on the sofa and glared at the answering machine. What did he mean, Dana was…upset? Was that little pause supposed to tell her something? Offer some clue?

She almost reached for the phone, then stopped. She didn’t want to talk to him over the phone. She wanted to see him, dammit, wanted to look in his eyes and tell him she’d been an idiot but she loved him, really, really loved
him, and was there any possible chance that he loved her, too? Not that she would probably have the courage to put it that bluntly, but maybe just looking at him would tell her what she needed to know.

Jessie sniffed and blinked back tears. She was
not
going to cry. There was nothing to cry about. Her hormones were just wacky these days. She’d actually teared up at a trash bag commercial yesterday.

Still sniffing, she got up and went into the kitchen. Maybe she should stop planning special dinners, she thought, looking at the ingredients spread out over the counter and thinking about the pork tenderloin medallions she’d pounded earlier and left waiting in the fridge. Last week it had been Reilly coming here. Tonight it was Matt with Dana.
What’s wrong with this picture, people?

There was definitely something wrong with this picture, Matt thought. There was Dana, all freshly showered, her hair falling in artfully tousled curls around her forehead, skin all dewy and soft-looking, wearing a pair of pale pink cotton pajamas and a look in her eyes that made him very nervous.

He’d made a pot of coffee and sent her upstairs with a cup in hand and orders to take a hot shower and go to bed. Instead she’d come downstairs—to get another cup of coffee, she said—and had asked him if he would mind coming upstairs to open a stuck closet door. What could he say? I’m afraid you’re going to attack me? Ridiculous.

So he’d followed her upstairs, carefully not noticing the way her hips swayed under the thin cotton. The sliding door was actually off its runner, and it took a bit of muscle and considerable maneuvering on his part to get it back into place. When he turned around, Dana was standing between him and the door, which was no big
deal, right? It wasn’t as if she was stalking him. Except she was walking toward him, and the look in her eyes set off alarm bells.