All I Want Is You (24 page)

“One day soon you'll wake up.” He knew that with his whole soul. He finally had the faith in Susan that he should have had when they were young. And he needed to be there—­for her, and for himself—­when she opened her eyes and rejoined life again.

And that was the
real
reason he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Sunnymeade.

J
ACK
barely slept that night. Charlie's words kept haunting him. They'd haunted him all damn night. And all damn day after he'd woken up the next morning.

Now he sat out on his front porch swing eating a bowl of ice cream. It was hot out—­the thick of the Cincinnati summer was upon them—­and it seemed like as good a dinner as any.
That's what I like about being single—­no one can yell at you if you feel like eating ice cream for dinner
.

He'd kept to himself since getting home—­he'd caught up on work, he'd resumed fixing up his house . . . and he'd finally packed away that old honeymoon picture. Now, of course, brand new heartache had taken the place of the old, so also on his to-­do list since returning home was doing his damnedest to get over the girl across the street.

He'd felt nearly as alone as he had in the early days after finding out about Candy's disloyalty. But he'd tried to ignore that and be the guy he'd been before Christy had come along. The guy who closed himself off from feeling very much. The guy who focused on his business and home renovations. The guy who had everything all under control. And he'd figured he could keep right on doing that until it became real and not just a matter of shoving the hurt away. But Charlie's phone call had changed that.

On one hand, he didn't know what the hell to make of it. He liked Charlie and thought the old guy had a lot of good insights on life—­but on the other hand, for all he knew, that call was the result of some medication he was on or something. And maybe he should just regard it as an old man's ramblings.

Because by the time they'd gotten home, Christy had finally convinced him they were really through. And maybe it was just healthier to accept that than to keep fighting it, keep wanting and wishing for something he'd lost and wasn't getting back.

Life, it seemed to him, was a delicate balance of hope versus acceptance, and it could be difficult to know when the best thing to do was to just cross that line. Accept loss. Try to make peace with it and move on. And right now, Charlie had him screwed up on where the line was.

Forget about it. Forget the call. Forget getting Christy back. If she doesn't think you're worth forgiving, then why do you want her anyway? You don't need any more hurt. Maybe the best thing for both of you really is to just accept that this is over.

Even if the mere thought of her still makes you happy, sad, crazy, and wildly hot for her body all at the same time.

He rolled his eyes at the thought.
I'll get over her. I really will. Starting now.

He set his empty ice cream bowl aside as Christy's car pulled to the curb across the street. She didn't look up as she got out—­in fact, she appeared rushed as she hurried to her front door. He wondered what was up. But then he stopped.
She's not your business anymore.

Well, he
tried
to stop. But he kept watching. He watched her slide her key into the lock, then turn it. Then jiggle the knob. Then cuss. “Damn it.” Her voice echoed across the street.

Two minutes later, she still struggled with the door.

And even Jack felt her frustration. He was mad at her and sad at her and lots of other things, too, but he still wanted her to be able to get in her front door. And without quite planning it, he found himself standing up and walking across the street.

Stepping up onto her porch behind her, he realized he hadn't been this close to her in days and that it felt strange—­and desperately good. But he didn't want to feel that. He wanted to feel surly and bitter instead. So he said, “Big date?”

She flinched, then turned to him with a sneer. Understandable, he supposed. And it made her no less gorgeous. “If you must know, I'm waiting for an important phone call and I forgot my cell today.”

Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He almost knew what they were both thinking, even if he hesitated to say it. It seemed an odd road to go down again. But he still finally said, “Want me to break the door down, Alice?”

 

. . . and the fall was over.

Lewis Carroll,
Alice in Wonderland

Chapter 21

C
HRISTY CONSIDERED
the offer. It was all too tempting to say yes. But . . . it suddenly seemed like an irrational move. It was a phone call, after all, not . . . a date with a rich guy. And for the first time, her original decision to have him bust the door down suddenly seemed irrational, too. Funny, at the time that date had seemed so all-­important.
That was before you were brave enough to depend on yourself and just wanted someone to rescue you.
She was glad those days were over because she felt so much stronger inside now—­even if not all that much had really changed.

“It's not a lock I don't have a key to this time,” she explained. “It's just that the regular lock always sticks. Let me try it one more time.”

And looking down with fresh determination, she shoved the key back in the lock, then pulled it back just a smidge, then gently turned the doorknob and key at the same time with just the right finesse—­and the lock finally clicked open.

She gasped in wonder as she lifted her eyes to the man next to her and they both let out happy laughs. “Life's little miracles,” she said.

And he replied, “They come along when you least expect them.”

“Thanks for the offer, though,” she told him. “It was sweet of you to be concerned.”

“I'm a sweet guy,” he said, their eyes meeting briefly again. But then he blew it off with a wink and a joke. “Just don't let that get around.”

As he followed her up the stairs to the apartment, he asked, “So what's this phone call you're stressed about? Something about Charlie? Is he doing all right?”

She looked over her shoulder at him as she entered her bedroom, making a beeline for her phone on the rickety bedside table. “He's fine as far as I know,” she said. “I'm expecting a call from my bank.”

“Oh?” He sounded surprised, which she could understand. She was still pretty surprised at her own boldness, too.

And she didn't mind telling him about it—­though the words came out more quietly than intended. “I applied for a loan,” she said as she grabbed up her phone to check it. And sure enough, she'd missed a call and had a voice
mail.

“A loan?” he said behind her. “To take care of your grandpa?”

But she was already dialing the voice mail, so she held up a finger to ask Jack to wait a minute.

“Ms. Knight, this is George Donner, your loan officer. We've thoroughly reviewed your loan application and would be happy to extend to you the amount you've requested—­however, given your short credit history and your current income, it'll be necessary to have a co-­signer on the loan.” From there, he went on to explain what she already knew—­that a co-­signer bore the responsibility of making payments on the loan if she failed to.

This was just what she'd feared and hoped against. She didn't want to make anyone bear her burden. And besides, the only person she knew who even had the means to co-­sign for her was the guy standing behind her right now, the guy she didn't want to ask for any financial favors. She knew he would probably do it, but she didn't want to be the girl he'd originally thought her, the girl who would use him for his money.

“You don't look happy,” he said. “They turned you down?”

“Not exactly.” She continued looking at her phone in order to avoid looking at
him
. “It's just that they want . . .”

“A co-­signer,” he guessed.

“Yep,” she confirmed, tossing her phone on the bed in discouragement.

“Tell me about the loan, Alice. Is it to take care of your grandpa? How much is it for?”

Christy was torn. Because she knew he was going to offer. And she almost didn't even want to let him. And yet . . . she
knew
she could make the payments; she just knew it. Her jewelry was selling so well and there were no signs of it stopping. And she would save as much of her money as possible in case lean times came, like after tourist season ended. And then maybe she could get into some boutiques further south, where tourist season
didn't
really end, or maybe she could try to get some sort of foothold selling her pieces online, and then it wouldn't even be about location.

So she took a deep breath and told him the amount. “And mostly, yes, it's to support Grandpa Charlie. But also to help me get my jewelry business more firmly established now that I've seen such promising results.”

“I'd be happy to co-­sign for you,” he said. “If you'll let me.”

Christy pulled in her breath. She remained torn—­but tempted. If she did this, if she let this happen, she had to make sure they were both on the same page about it. “If I were to accept your offer, Jack, it wouldn't mean I want your money.”

“I know that, Alice,” he said very calmly.

“And I'll make the payments, come high or hell water. I'm not looking for a bailout anymore—­I promise. I need for you to understand that and to know how serious I am about it.”

Jack peered down into her pretty hazel eyes, so desperate and wild at the moment, and longed to put her at ease. He didn't like her feeling she had to justify herself to him. And he was sorely tempted to tell her he could just pay for Charlie's care at Sunnymeade himself, and that he'd be happy to give her whatever additional amount she needed for her business.

But even as he opened his mouth to say all this, he realized . . . it was the wrong answer.

She didn't want a bailout. She didn't want his money.

And he instinctively understood that she didn't even necessarily want to be put at ease right now.

She wanted something else entirely.

She needed . . . for him to believe in her as much as she'd come to believe in herself. She needed him to believe that she was capable of making smart decisions and growing her jewelry business.

What he'd had in life that she didn't were ­people who had always believed in him and supported him—­his parents, teachers and professors, friends and co-­workers—­and only in this moment did he realize how much their encouragement had mattered when it came to following his dreams and striking out on his own.

So instead of offering her the money, he offered her something else. He said simply, “I have faith in you. All the faith in the world.”

And when an unexpected light sparked in Christy's eyes, he understood—­that was what Charlie had meant. He'd found the thing she needed from him. Just simple faith. That was all.

Christy looked up at the man with whom she'd traveled such a strange and twisted and passion-­filled road. She hadn't expected this, and something in the simple words touched her more deeply than she could have anticipated. “Jack,” she said, “after everything, you don't know how much that means to me.”

And then she followed the instinct to throw her arms around his neck in gratitude. And, of course, wrapping her arms around him, having his body pressed up against hers, made her feel far more than just gratitude—­and when Jack enclosed her in a warm embrace, then said near her ear, “I know you can do this, honey,” it buried her. It erased every last ounce of her resistance. And it made her kiss him.

She never meant to—­it just happened. And to have her lips pressed against his warm mouth, to have his body molding so snugly against hers, felt like coming home.

She knew it was crazy to be kissing him under all the circumstances, and yet she couldn't stop. He kissed her back, just as feverishly—­until together they sank to their knees on her bedroom floor.

And then he stopped kissing her just long enough to whisper, “Have faith in me, too, Christy. Please.”

The words stole her breath, made her pull back, look into those sexy blue eyes.

“Have faith in me to never hurt you again. Have faith in me to always be honest with you, to always trust you. Have faith in me to be the man you deserve. Have faith in me to love you and make you happy. Because I'll do all those things if you'll only let me.”

Christy knew a moment of truth when she saw one. And she also knew there were plenty of good reasons she'd walked away from Jack that night on the beach. And she knew that even if she wanted to trust him again, it wouldn't happen automatically—­trust had to be earned, and that would take some time, some caution. It came back to that whole broken plate thing—­being sorry didn't instantly repair it.

But what if protecting herself was the wrong thing to do here? What if protecting herself meant never again opening herself up to real happiness, to a real, loving connection with someone?

And didn't she know that, despite his deceptions, Jack was the most amazing guy she'd ever met? And that she loved him?

And so if she was ever going to open her heart again, shouldn't it be to the man she loved? And to the man who had faith in her?

If he believed in her, was it so much of him to ask that she give him the same in return?

“Real trust,” she said cautiously, “won't happen overnight.”

But she could instantly see that her words had given him hope, told him she was opening the door, just a crack.

“I don't mind proving myself,” he promised her. “For however long it takes.”

Christy weighed it all in her head—­and in the end, she realized it came down to taking a risk, and believing. Just like when she'd set up that table at the beach that first night, nervous and afraid she wouldn't sell any jewelry. And look how that had turned out.

She didn't want half a life. And how on earth could anyone live a whole life—­a real life, a happy life—­if they weren't willing to take chances and believe in the things, or ­people, they cared about?

“I love you, Jack,” she said, being brave enough to open the door a whole lot more. “And I want us to go back to where we were, back to being happy, back to loving each other.”

“I never
stopped
loving you, honey,” he assured her, and her heart swelled in her chest.

“I didn't stop loving you, either. I tried, but I couldn't.”

“Thank God,” he murmured, then kissed her again.

But a blissful moment later, she stopped them with a gasp, pressing her palms to his chest. “Only . . .”

“What?” he asked, clearly worried.

“I . . . kind of decided that if I got the loan I would move to Coral Cove. Because it makes sense to be near Grandpa Charlie. And that's where the heart of my business seems to be. And, well, because I grew a lot there, and I was happy there, and so I just thought it made sense.”

“You're right,” he agreed with her, “it does make sense.”

She blinked. “But what about us?”

“I can't think of a nicer place than Coral Cove for us to start over together, Alice.”

Christy drew in her breath, amazed. “Really? You'd do that for me? You'd move to Coral Cove?”

“In a heartbeat, baby.”

And as she got lost in more warm, sweet kisses, she knew already that she'd made the right choice about Jack. And she suddenly had all the faith in the world in him, too.