What Mattered Most (25 page)

John slammed his desk drawer shut. Tucked in the drawer, the blue velvet box mocked him every time he needed a paper clip. What the hell had he been thinking, buying her a damn engagement ring?

He glanced at the phone, fighting the urge to call her, to give in and take her on any terms she wanted. He reached for the phone and pulled his hand back. They deserved more. He wasn’t going to settle this time.

You don’t have to marry her to be committed. It’s a ring, a piece of paper.

No. There was more to it than that. The memory of standing outside the surgical unit, being told he couldn’t see her because he wasn’t family, rose in his mind. Another memory assaulted him—Caitlin making the medical decisions because he had no rights. Having to fear losing his son because he and Lanie weren’t married.

He wanted more than the ring and the piece of paper—he wanted the vows and the rights that went with being her husband. He wanted to give her the same rights. He wanted to make those vows to her, to promise to always be there. He wanted everything—the good and the bad.

And Lanie wanted… What? Hell, he didn’t even know.

Guilt clenched his gut, and he dropped his head into his hands with a muffled groan. Here he sat, bitching and moaning to himself about her not wanting to commit to him, and what reason had he given her? Again, it was all about what he wanted—he wanted her, he wanted them together, he wanted her to marry him.

Not once had he really stopped and thought about what she wanted. Hadn’t
asked
her what she wanted, what she needed from him.

And when she balked, he walked out. No, he wasn’t her father, but he’d abandoned her all the same when things didn’t go his way. Some way to prove himself.

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching for the phone. Her answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. “Lanie, it’s John. Honey, we need to talk. If you’re there, pick up.”

Silence greeted him.

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll try again later. And, Lanie? I love you.”

An hour and three identical calls later, his nerves sang with tension. He wondered if she was by the phone, listening to his voice, refusing to pick up, refusing to talk to him. Worry shifted over his skin. What if something was wrong?

The chair emitted a loud squeak as he pushed up from the desk. “Joyce, I’m leaving for the day.”

Arms crossed over her sagging chest, she pinned him with a look. “Is it an emergency?”

“Yeah. You could call it an emergency.”

Lanie’s vow not to need John lasted until early afternoon. Memories of John’s hurt expression and the slump of his shoulders cropped up, no matter what she did to try to forget. With the phone’s ringer off, she threw herself into cleaning while the baby napped. Family photos lined the mantel, and she pulled each one down and smoothed a soft cloth over the glass and wood.

She traced a finger over the smile on Caitlin’s face in one picture and glanced up at the images on the shelf. In the largest photo, her grandparents sat surrounded by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Her grandmother had been in the final stages of chemotherapy, and the treatment’s ravaging was apparent in her drawn face and smooth head. She gave the camera a weak smile, but Vincenzo Falconetti’s gaze lingered on her, an expression of love and utter devotion suffusing his face.

That’s what a marriage should be.

Not the mix of need and resentment her parents had shared. Or the wild attraction she and John had once shared.

Lanie shook her head. An example of what marriage should be. Taking the bad with the good.

Love.

Sacrifice.

Devotion.

Basically, everything John had proved during the last two months. Not with words. With actions.

Taking care of their son when she couldn’t.

Absorbing her hatred and barbs without comment.

Comforting her when the memories became too strong.

Giving up the job he loved so Sonny Buck would have the security of an available father.

Shame chilled her.
I’m not your father.
No, he wasn’t, but she’d judged him that way, simply because of his lingering feelings for Beth.

Fingers pressed against her lips to suppress a tiny moan, Lanie closed her eyes. He’d chosen her. He loved her. He’d become everything she wanted him to be.

And she’d clung to her blind judgment, refusing to see that what mattered wasn’t the past—her parents’, or even theirs. What mattered was the future, the future John had offered her with a dazzling ring and a lopsided grin, which she had so quickly spurned.

Oh, Lord, what had she done?

The driveway was empty, but John went to the door anyway and knocked. The house stood silent. He sighed and stared at the spot in the driveway where Lanie’s car should be. She could be anywhere. The store. A doctor’s appointment, although he knew Sonny Buck didn’t have one scheduled for another two months. She could be having lunch with one of her friends.

The empty house and missing car didn’t mean she’d gotten scared and run. Didn’t mean he’d pushed too hard and pushed her away. The signs didn’t have to mean that, but John would be willing to bet money they did.

He pulled the key from his pocket, shrugging off the tiny stab of guilt. She’d given him the key to use in an emergency. As he saw it, finding her right now constituted an emergency.

Inside, an eerie silence permeated the house. The refrigerator hummed, and the mantel clock ticked off seconds. The portable playpen was missing from the living room. His heart thudding against his ribs, John jogged up the stairs. Her overnight bag wasn’t in the closet, and the bathroom counter had been cleared of her toiletries.

He didn’t even have to look in the nursery.

Fear and anger churned in his gut. She was gone, and he had no clue where to look. Reason tried to assert itself. She didn’t mean to stay gone forever.

She had to come to it in her own time.

He’d pushed, and she’d run.

Well, this time, he’d just wait her out.

Sonny Buck grumbled and stretched out his body as Lanie eased him into the car seat. His duck-embroidered hat fell over his eyes, and he fussed harder. With a laugh, she pushed it back. “C’mon, Sonny Buck. Cooperate with Mom. We’ve got to find your dad. I need to tell him what an idiot I’ve been.”

The drive to Houston took forever. She couldn’t find a legal parking spot outside the precinct that housed the records division, and she parked in a slot marked
Official Use Only
. Lifting Sonny Buck to her shoulder, she nuzzled his cheek. “Hopefully, we’ll only be a minute. Want to go see Daddy?”

He chortled, and Lanie hugged his small, warm body as she climbed the marble steps to the precinct house. Nerves clenched in her stomach. What if she was too late? What if he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble?

Holding on to the memory of his hopeful gaze the night before, she pushed the doubts down. It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be.

She eased through the crowded hallway, dodging uniformed officers escorting plaintive suspects and world-weary detectives shooting the bull over coffee. Pushing open the door to the records division, she swallowed and took a deep, calming breath.

The middle-aged woman with brassy red hair and deep frown lines grimaced at her, an expression Lanie supposed was meant to be a smile. “Can I help you?”

Shifting Sonny Buck in her embrace, Lanie glanced around the room. A younger woman sat at one of three desk, entering data into a computer. John wasn’t in sight. “I’m looking for Sergeant O’Reilly.”

The woman harrumphed. “He’s out.”

The hope Lanie had tried to hold on to settled into a cold lump in her stomach. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

One hand on her hip, the woman pinned Lanie with a long-suffering look. “All I know is he said he had an emergency and not to expect him back today.”

An emergency? Lanie swallowed and backed toward the door. “Thank you.”

She traveled the way she’d come, her mind clicking through possibilities. Could his emergency have to do with her? “What now?” she whispered against Sonny Buck’s forehead. “Where should we look, kid?”

Stepping outside, she pulled her keys from her pocket. A horrified moan slipped past her lips when she glanced where her car should have been. The spot stood empty. Glancing up and down the street, she saw the taillights flare on a departing tow truck, her car hitched to the back.

With a muttered curse, she held her baby tighter. Could the day get any worse?

Hours later, Lanie turned onto her street. The baby slept in his car seat, and the setting sun cast long shadows on the sidewalk and lawns. It had taken her two hours and over a hundred dollars to retrieve her car, and her spirits had taken a dive during that time. John’s emergency could be anything. She had no reason to think he was looking for her.

She’d given him no reason to do so.

Preparing to turn into her driveway, she braked too hard and stared. His car sat in its customary spot, and sitting on her front steps was John O’Reilly, reading the newspaper, a soft drink can next to his feet.

Joy leapt into her throat, and she forced it down. His being here could mean anything. She pulled into the drive, her hands shaking on the wheel.

He didn’t move from the steps, but Lanie could feel his gaze on her while she removed the sleeping baby from the car. He continued to watch her as she walked toward the steps. With deliberate motions, he folded the newspaper and set it aside. Hands linked between his parted knees, he looked at her, not smiling. “Where’ve you been?”

She wished he would smile. The seriousness made her more nervous, if that were possible. Stalling, she set the car seat on the step next to him and fussed with Sonny Buck’s blanket. Finally, she glanced up to find him still watching her with that somber expression.

She looked away, her hands tucked in the back pockets of her jeans.
Tell him
, a little voice whispered.
Tell him you figured out what’s missing.
She met his gaze again. “I was looking for you. I went to Houston, to your precinct, but you weren’t there.”

He nodded. “I was here.”

“My car got towed, and it took forever to get it back.” She closed her mouth, aware she was rambling, but so nervous her palms were damp, her mouth dry. More than anything, she wished he would reach out, touch her, tell her he loved her.

“Why did you go to the precinct?” For the first time, he dropped his gaze. Uncertainty and hope lingered in his words, and Lanie wondered if he was waiting for her to reach out, touch him, tell him she loved him.

She touched his knee and felt him flinch. “To tell you I want everything. To tell you I love you and I want to wear that ring and I want to marry you. To beg you for one more chance. To tell you that I—”

He didn’t give her the chance to finish. His hands shot out and jerked her between his knees, his mouth covering hers. Lanie twined her arms around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair. She opened her mouth, swallowing his groan. After a long time, she pulled away, smoothing her fingers along his jaw. She smiled, gazing into navy eyes dark with desire. “To tell you I know what matters most. You. Sonny Buck. Us. Our future. That’s all. Nothing else.”

His lashes dipped, and he caught her to him again. “God, I love you.” His arms around her waist, his head against her chest, he sighed. “You don’t have to wear the ring yet, Lanie. I’ll wait for you. I was an ass last night—”

Her fingers gentle on his jaw, she tilted his face up. “I want to wear your ring, John. I love you, and I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband, and I want us to have everything.”

Doubt lingered in his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Very.” She smiled at him, stroking her fingers over his temple. “Let’s go to Vegas and find a wedding chapel. I’ll make an honest man out of you, O’Reilly.”

His eyes flared. “Don’t tempt me, Falconetti.”

She feathered her lips over his. “I’m already packed.”

“You don’t want the big wedding with all the trimmings?”

“I want
you
.”

Laughing, he set her back a step and stood. “Let’s go.”

Lanie wrapped her arms around him, holding on to everything that mattered. “I love you, O’Reilly.”