The Contract (34 page)

Sadly, though, I knew he would never change
enough
to allow my love. That he would never want my love. We had a truce. To his shock, and mine, we became friends. His insults were now teasing, and his dismissive attitude gone. However, I knew that was all I was to him. A friend—a collaborator.

I sighed as I dug my toes deeper into the cooling sand. I would have to go inside soon. Once the sun set, it grew colder, and I was already a little chilled, even with a jacket on. I knew I would pass another night pacing and rambling around the small cottage. Chances were I would end up back on the beach, bundled up, walking to try to exhaust myself so I could fall into a restless, unsatisfying sleep. Even in my slumber, I couldn’t escape my thoughts. Asleep or awake, they were filled with him.

Richard.

My eyes burned as I thought of how he had taken care of me when Penny died. How he acted as though I would shatter like glass if he spoke too loud. When he had carried me to his bed, intent on comforting me, I already knew I had to leave him. I couldn’t hide the love I felt much longer. I couldn’t stand the thought of watching his face morph into that cold, haughty mask he used to cover his true self as he dismissed my confession—because he would.

Until he could love himself, he could never love anyone. Not even me.

Impatiently, I brushed the tears away, hugging my knees tight to my chest.

I had given him the one gift I had left—myself. It was all I had, and in truth, I was being selfish. I wanted to feel him. To have him possess my body and be able to keep that memory as the one I held the tightest. It was still painful to think of, but I knew as time passed, eventually the edges would soften and wilt, and I would be able to smile thinking of the passion. Remembering how his mouth felt on mine. The way our bodies joined perfectly, the warmth of his form surrounding mine, and the way his voice sounded as he groaned out my name.

Unable to take the barrage of memories, I stifled a sob and stood up, brushing off my jeans. Turning, I stopped, frozen. Standing in the waning light, tall and stern, hands buried in his coat pockets, staring at me, with an unfathomable expression, was Richard.

RICHARD

She was too thin again. Even with a jacket on, it was evident. Her appetite had been non-existent after Penny passed, and in the few days we’d been apart, I knew she wasn’t eating. She was suffering as much as me.

When I arrived at the small cluster of cottages, I parked far enough away I wouldn’t alert her to my presence if she was, indeed, there. Walking onto the beach, I spied her right away, a small, huddled mass on the sand, staring into the horizon. She looked lost and tiny, and the need to go to her, lift her into my arms and refuse to let her go, was strong. I had never felt anything that intense until today. However, I resisted, knowing I needed to approach her cautiously. She had run once, and I didn’t want her running again.

We stood, staring at each other. I began to head toward her—slow, wary steps, until I was in front of her, inches away. Up close, she looked as ravaged as I felt. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and weary, her skin paler than ever, her hair limp and dull.

“You left me.”

“There was no need to stay.”

I frowned. “No need?”

“Graham had already waved your probationary period. Penny died. You didn’t need the cover of our marriage anymore.”

“What did you think I was going to tell people, Katharine? How did you expect me to explain your sudden disappearance?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You always tell me how good you think on your feet, Richard. I assumed you’d tell them I was overwhelmed with losing Penny and went away to clear my head. You could string it along for a while, then tell them we’d been having problems, and I decided not to come back.”

“So you expected me to blame you. Lay it all at
your
feet.”

She swayed slightly. “What would it matter? I wouldn’t contest it.”

“Of course not. Because you weren’t there.”

“Exactly.”

“But it did matter. It
does
matter to me.”

Her brow furrowed as she watched me.

I took a step forward, wanting to be near her. Needing to touch her, worried at how fragile she seemed to be.

“You left things behind. Things I would think were important to you.”

“I was going to contact you and ask you to send them—wherever I ended up settling.”

“You didn’t take your car or bankcard. How were you planning on accessing the rest of your money?”

She stuck out her stubborn chin. “I took what I earned.”

“No, you earned so much more, Katharine.”

Her lips trembled. “Why are you here? H–How did you find me?”

“I came here for you. A friend suggested I start at the beginning.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Graham told me where to find you.”

“Graham?” She frowned, looking confused. “How . . . how did he know?”

“He had a suspicion, and because he listened better than I ever did, he knew the answer was in our home. He told me to look. He refused to tell me. He said I had to figure all this out on my own.”

“I–I don’t understand.”

“After you left, I did a lot of thinking. I wallowed some, drank too much, and ran around looking for you. Finally, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what?”

“I finally understood what you were feeling. My life had become one lie after another. I couldn’t tell where reality ended and the lies began anymore. Even at my worst, when I was a complete bastard, I was honest about it. I had been hiding for so long and I didn’t want to hide anymore. I told Graham you left me.”

A tear ran down her face.

“Then I told him everything. Every single, fucking lie.”

She gasped. “No! Richard—why did you do that? You had it all. Everything you wanted! Everything you worked so hard for! Why did you throw it away?”

I grasped her arms, shaking her a little. “Don’t you get it, Katharine? Don’t you see?”

“See what?” she cried.

“I didn’t have everything! Not without you! I had nothing, and without you, it all
meant
nothing! The one real thing I had, the one honest, real thing was you!”

Her eyes grew round and she shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I came here for you.”

“Why? You don’t need me.”

I ran my hands up her arms, over her shoulders and neck, cupping her face—her tired, beautiful face—between my palms. “I do need you.” I met her weary gaze with my determined one, speaking the words I had only ever spoken once in my lifetime. Back then, I spoke them with a childish mindset, and the words really had no meaning. Now though—they meant everything.

“I love you, Katharine.”

Her hands wrapped around my wrists, the doubt plain on her panicked face. “No,” she breathed.

I leaned my forehead to hers. “I do. I need you so much. I miss my friend, my
wife
. I miss you.”

A wild sob broke from her throat. I gathered her in my arms, refusing to allow her to escape. She pushed at my chest, fighting against the comfort I needed to give her.

“You can’t run. I’ll follow you, sweetheart. I’ll follow you anywhere.” I pressed a kiss to her head. “Don’t leave me alone again, my Katy. I couldn’t bear it.”

She broke. Flinging her arms around my neck, she buried her face in my chest as hot tears soaked my shirt. I lifted her into my arms, and carried her across the hard sand toward the bright blue cottage at the end. It was the one with the white shutters she wrote about in her journal.

I held her tight, dropping light kisses on her head. I wasn’t letting her go.

The rustic cottage was exactly how I pictured it in my head from the description in her journal. A well-worn sofa and chair were in front of a fireplace. To the left was a rudimentary kitchen with a table and two chairs. An open door led to a small bedroom, and beside it, a bathroom. That was the entire cottage. I sat Katy on the sofa and turned to the fireplace. Soot and smoke from years of use had settled into the stone and brick, turning the entire mantle a dull gray. I added some logs and kindling, wanting a fire to warm up the cool interior.

“The flue sticks.” Katy kneeled beside me, reaching past me to tug on the duct.

I struck a match, making sure the kindling caught, then stood, replacing the small screen. Bending down, I brought her to her feet, tugging her damp jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the side. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her tight, the sense of relief saturating my body. She shivered, a long, low breath escaping her mouth. I cradled her head in my hands, dropping a kiss to her crown. She tilted her head back, the firelight dancing over her features, highlighting the delicate contours of her face.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t try to find you, Katy?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I only knew I had to go.”

I pulled her to the sofa, gathering her hands into mine. “Why, sweetheart? Why did you run?”

“Because I fell in love with you, and I didn’t think you could love me back. I couldn’t hide it any longer, and I knew when you realized how I felt you’d—”

My heart clenched at her words. She loved me. I squeezed her hands, prompting her. “I’d what?”

“You’d turn back into the Richard I hated and laugh at me. You didn’t need me anymore and you would tell me to go. I thought it would be easier if I went.”

“Were you planning on coming back at all?”

“Only to find out what you wanted to do and get my things. I assumed you wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

“You thought wrong. About all of it. I need you. I want you back. I . . .” I faltered. “I love you.”

She looked down at our joined hands, then back up. Bewilderment was evident in her expression; blatant disbelief was in her eyes. I couldn’t blame her, but I wanted to eradicate both.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” she admitted.

I slid closer, knowing I needed to find a way to convince her I was sincere. My gaze swept the small cottage as I mulled over my words, landing on the small urn sitting on the fireplace mantle.

“Did you bring Penny’s ashes with you to scatter them?” I asked.

“Yes. We had many happy memories here. She worked hard to make sure I could come here every year. She and Burt used to come here, too. She scattered his ashes on the beach.” She swallowed, voice quivering. “I thought maybe, somehow, they’d meet up and be together again in the sand and water.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “I guess that seems silly.”

I lifted her hand to my mouth, kissing the knuckles. “Silly? No. It sounds like a sweet gesture. Something a gentle soul like you would think of.”

“A gentle soul?”

“You are one, Katy. I realized it a few weeks ago, when I stopped being such a bastard. I watched you, the way you were with Penny. The interactions you had with the Gavin family. The kindness you showed to the staff at the home.” I traced the back of my fingers down her cheek, the skin like silk under my touch. “The way you treated me. You give. You constantly give. I had never experienced that until you came into my life. I didn’t think there was anyone like you on this earth.”

I bent closer, needing her to see the sincerity in my eyes. “I didn’t think anyone like you could ever be a part of my life.”

“Because you didn’t deserve it?”

“Because I didn’t believe in love.”

Her reply was a whisper. “And now?”

“I know now I
can
love someone. I do love someone. I love you.” I held up my hand when she started to speak. “I know you might not believe me, Katy. It’s true, though. You taught me to love. You showed me everything you said was true. What I feel for you makes me stronger. It makes me want to be a good man for you. Be honest and real. That’s why I came clean with Graham. I knew the only way I had a chance to get you back, and keep you, was to be honest. Make you proud.”

“When?”

“Pardon?”

“When did you start to change? When did you stop disliking me?”

I shrugged. “I think maybe the day you told me to go fuck myself. That was the first time I saw the real Katharine. You’d been hiding that fire.”

“I had to. I needed my job. Penny was far more important than you or your nasty attitude.”

“I know. My behavior was horrendous. How you managed to get past any of it and agree to be with me—even for Penny—is still a mystery. That night you told me your story and let me know exactly what you thought of me was an eye-opener. I don’t think I’ve ever sobered up as fast in my life. And once again, you forgave me—you married me.”

“I had given you my word.”

“Which you could have backed out of easily. I expected you to, but once more, you surprised me. You surprised me at every turn.” Smiling, I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Not much surprises me, yet you do—constantly. I like it.”

She smiled back, her expression not as wary as it had been.

“The most amazing thing to me was, and is, the way you were with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“All I asked, all I expected, was for you to put on an act when we were out together. I fully expected you to ignore me when we were in the privacy of the condo. I know I planned to ignore you. But . . .”