Created In Fire (Art of Love Series) (26 page)

“Michael, having legal rights to someone is not the same thing as having their sincere love and affection. I learned that the hard way and almost lost Luke. I hope you appreciate the difference without making my mistakes,” Ellen said, searching his face for ulterior motives, finding only caring and love.

Michael sipped his beer. “I don’t want to talk about not marrying her anymore. How did she look in her dress?”

“Incredibly beautiful,” Ellen said sincerely. “You can look at lots of dresses, but there is always just the one that when you put it on. . .well, you see yourself and just know.”

Michael closed his eyes, visualizing Carrie in all white, looking ethereal and regal at the same time. He could almost see her walking down the aisle to him.

Ellen reached over and took her son’s hand in hers. “She doesn’t seem to handle a loss of control any better than you do, Michael. You might want to consider turning her loose and letting her make a voluntary decision sans contract to marry you.”

Michael was shaking his head.

“Michael, divorce is not easy. People hurt each other with divorce. Marriage is tough enough without so many things stacked against it. The baby is already going to be a challenge,” Ellen said, imploring her hard-headed son to see the negative repercussions of trapping Carrie in a marriage she didn’t want.

“Mom—stop,” Michael said, squeezing her hand. “I can’t let her go. She married two other guys before while I could do nothing but watch. I can’t let that happen again.”

“No,” Ellen said, sighing and getting emotional again at the obvious panic it caused Michael. “I don’t suppose you can.”

She finished half of her beer, then pushed the remainder to Michael, who laughed.

“Tea with brandy would have been better,” she said, standing. Her attention was caught by the art on the table outside. “Is that a new piece?”

“Yes,” Michael said, standing and following her to the patio door as she looked at it.

“I like it,” Ellen said. “It’s very different from your other work.”

Michael looked at her with his eyes wide. “Are you really my mother?”

Ellen laughed and patted his chest. “It still wouldn’t kill you to hang some curtains in here.”

“Oh, there you are. Thought for a minute there I was talking to an alien,” Michael said, putting his arms around his mother and hugging. “Thank you for helping Carrie find the perfect dress.”

“Think about what I said, Michael,” Ellen ordered.

“Okay,” he said, mostly just to reassure her.

After she had gone, Michael went out to the patio and worked on fixing the rest of the joints in his new piece.

He couldn’t imagine not marrying Carrie. He would just have to work on winning her after he was sure she couldn’t marry anyone else.

*** *** ***

“Your mother probably thinks I’m the biggest weenie in the world,” Carrie said later that evening, sipping the tomato soup Michael had brought her in the mug with a blow torch on it. “Ellen even held my hair back while I was being sick. Then I burst into tears afterward because I was totally embarrassed, and she did too. Her face turned red and mascara ran everywhere. I wouldn’t blame her if she hates me for that alone. I messed up your perfect mother.”

Michael sat at the foot of the bed, listening to the rant with amusement.

“Mom stood in the doorway of the bedroom until you fell asleep, and left me with orders to take care of you,” he told her.

“It’s humiliating to be sick in front of people,” Carrie complained, putting the remainder of her food down. She wasn’t having much luck eating this evening.

“Yes. I’d hate it as well, especially if I made people cry,” he said, liking the glare she gave him.

“I didn’t
make
her cry. She just cried. Sympathy I guess,” Carrie said harshly, defending herself.

“I think instinctively people know how strong you are, so when you lose it, well—it’s easy to feel sympathy for your situation,” Michael told her.

“Great. Fine—I make people cry. Not exactly the super power I was hoping to develop in my lifetime,” Carrie said sarcastically, leaning her head back. “Sorry I didn’t eat much of what you fixed, but the food helped.”

“I heard you telling Shane if you were a superhero you’d like to have the ability to be invisible,” Michael said, sliding one of her feet into his lap and rubbing as she leaned back on the pillows.

“I would have said anything to Shane to cheer him up. Geez, he’s like a big puppy when he’s upset. He was so sad. I just wanted to hug him and make him wag his tail again,” Carrie said on a laugh.

Michael grinned. “If he wags his tail at you, he’ll be a dead dog,” he said firmly.

“Grow up. You heard what happened. I’m ready to put up posters all around Lexington to help him find her,” Carrie said, frowning. “And those pictures he drew. . .” She shook her head in dismay.

“Those pictures were a great idea. They made him feel better. You fixed the fixer in our family with art. That was pretty amazing,” Michael told her. “We usually have to let Shane fix himself.”

“I used to be the fixer in my family. I guess it’s just instinctive,” Carrie said, thinking about how she used to smooth things over between parents and intervene to save her wretched brother even.

“Who’s the fixer in your family now?” Michael asked.

“No one, I guess,” Carrie told him. “Well, I guess I’m still fixing Darla and Alison. I shooed them back to Bowling Green and told them not to come back until Friday morning. I gave them money for all the extra trips because I didn’t want them staying at Mom and Dad’s.”

Michael picked up her other foot and switched it for the one in his lap. He kneaded the instep and listened to her moaning as she relaxed. It reminded him of last night and every other time he rubbed her with any part of him. Lord, he had it so bad for her.

He sighed over her foot and looked up from his task to see her watching him.

“When I got so sick earlier, I forgot to pick up the yogurt bars,” Carrie told him, thinking about how much she liked his stroking touch.

Then she was remembering him exploring every inch of her last night. First, he’d used a melting yogurt bar and then he’d used his tongue. She sighed loudly, mirroring his.

“No yogurt bars tonight,” Michael said sadly. “I’ll get some more tomorrow.”

“Last night was amazing,” Carrie said softly. “It was what I always imagined sex could be if done slowly and right.”

Michael slowed his stroking, and then resumed. “Yes. It was amazing. I didn’t mean to keep you up so long though.”

“You’re not expecting me to make the same apology are you?” she asked, waiting to see if he grinned, feeling a gush of warmth in her chest when he did.

“Do I look that stupid to you?” Michael asked, smirking.

“Fifth Amendment on that one. Are you trying to get me to say something mean and nasty to you while you’re taking a care of me?” Carrie asked.

Michael shook his head. “I think I’ll take my compliment and shut up now.”

Carrie looked at Michael, raising one eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“It’s an experiment to see if we can maybe stop fighting long enough to get to know something more about each other than just our anger buttons,” Michael said, shrugging.

“Have you been talking to Shane about us?” Carrie demanded. “That sounds like something he’d say.”

“Yes—but only a little. I want to stop making you feel bad. I want to get to know you,” Michael said, working to keep the defensiveness in his voice as low as he could.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to be honest with me,” Carrie said carefully.

“I want there to be nothing but truth between us. Let’s trade questions—just one today, but no matter how it affects us emotionally we agree to not fight back about the answer. We’ll agree to just listen,” Michael suggested.

Carrie felt her stomach clench, not sure she could do as he suggested. She thought longingly of the mangled business card containing Jessica’s therapist she’d shoved in her purse.

“Okay. Let’s try it. Can I go first?” she asked.

Michael tightened his jaw. “Okay. You first.”

“Did you sleep with the women I work with just to upset me or did you like them genuinely?” Carrie asked.

Michael sighed. He wasn’t really surprised Carrie went straight for his balls with her only question. It wasn’t like he expected to be asked his favorite color.

“Shane thinks I did,” Michael said, watching Carrie bite her lip to keep from speaking. “I was hurt when you got married. The first time was hard. The second time you did it, I was destroyed. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to hurt you back for both those. I didn’t know then why you rejected me. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I had known. If it wasn’t you in my bed, I didn’t care who was. That’s why I don’t care about them now. I hate that you think it makes me a bad person.”

“Will you do it again after we divorce?” Carrie asked.

“We said one question. I’m not ready to answer that yet,” Michael said, tamping down his frustration that she was already talking about their divorce before they were even married. “My turn.”

Carried crossed her arms. “Okay. Fine. Ask your question.”

“What’s your real hair color?” Michael asked, staring and holding her gaze until she uncrossed her arms and looked away.

“Okay, I’m not a brunette. How did you know?” Carrie demanded.

“I’m an artist. I notice the details. The mountain and the valley had different shades of grass,” Michael told her. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Why should I? Sounds like you already know the answer,” Carrie said sarcastically.

“I don’t know anything. Your whole family is blonde and you aren’t. Still that’s not unheard of in genetics,” Michael said. “Want me to repeat my question?”

“No,” Carrie said. “My natural hair color is blonde, but I will never be one again.”

“Why?” Michael asked, his gaze boring into hers that was filled with so much pain.

“That’s a second question, and I’m not ready to answer it,” she said, throwing his words back in his face.

“You know, Carrie, it seems like you’ve had the power of invisibility for a long damn time in your life,” Michael said.

He rose from the bed, gathered her dinner tray, and walked out of the room.

Carrie closed her eyes and felt a tear trickle down the side of her face.

Chapter 18

“Carrie, I don’t want your resignation. You know you’re the best events planner I have. You want me to fire Erin for hassling you at work? Fine—she’s gone,” John said, crossing his fingers that Carrie would relent and not call his bluff. He didn’t want to lose either of them. Plus Erin would file a sexual harassment suit against him the day she left. What a mess.

Carrie considered the amount of pleasure she would get from watching Erin get the boot and lose her job. But it would have been as hollow a victory as watching Shane beat up Michael for her or Michael beat up Kevin. That was just shifting the conflict to someone else. She’d done that for too long already.

“That’s a very lovely offer and a tempting one,” Carrie said honestly. “But that’s not a solution. When Erin gets a little older and learns a little more about handling people, she’s going to be a great planner for you.”

“That’s because you trained her. She models you,” John said. “Don’t you think you both will move past this once you’re married to Michael?”

“John—Erin’s past with Michael bothers me, but she’s not the reason I’m leaving. I appreciate all I’ve learned here, but I need a change. Whether you accept the resignation or not, I’m still leaving. It can be tomorrow or four months from now,” Carrie said firmly.

“You know I want the four months,” John said, resigned to her tone. “Have we gotten the final figures on Lana’s show?”

“Lana sold ten pieces out of eighteen. I don’t have the exact amounts, but I think she made sixteen thousand after paying us. Not too bad,” Carrie said, thinking Michael could pull that in one piece. His father probably got double that for a statue.

“That means we made seventy-two hundred plus expenses,” John said.

“Around ten I’m guessing,” Carrie said.

“Stay,” John pleaded. “Just stay, Carrie. Lovers come and go. You’re good at this job.”

Carrie was shaking her head. “I was going to leave in a couple years even before I got engaged to Michael.”

“What’s your dream job? Maybe we find something else for you here,” John said, wondering how he was going to manage without her.

“My dreams are big,” Carrie said, laughing. “I want my own gallery, John. If I win the lottery and get it, I’ll swing a deal with you to host your shows there. I’ll be cheaper than the Lexington Center and a lot more elegant than a conference room near Rupp. I’ll even play nice with Erin if she does the planning.”

John leaned back in his chair. “Hell, if I had the cash, I’d front you for it, but I don’t. What are you going to do if you don’t win the lottery and get your gallery?”

“Run away to Bowling Green with my sisters,” Carrie said, not thinking how her new statement might be construed.