Dreams of Her Own (19 page)

Chapter 24

“
Well, that went well,” Ian said at the last echo of the slamming door. “Just like the rest of my day.” He paced over to the desk. “Goddammit!” Picking up the stapler, he hurled it against the brick wall with such force, it exploded, sending staples tinkling to the floor like so many shards of glass.

Why did everyone think he needed help? What was he, helpless? No. “Goddammit!” They thought he was a dumb fuck. Just like Hank did.

He couldn’t take their pity.

It was one thing for Caleb. It was another for Millie. She was so smart, so well-read. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved a college professor, with fucking patches on his sleeve who would sit in their library at night and read Wordsworth or Kant to her. Someone who would stimulate her mind, not just her body.

Bile rose in his throat. He didn’t want to think about this paragon of a man stimulating her body.

Bending over, hands to his knees, he huffed like a man who’d just run a marathon, his chest tight. Straightening, he pressed a hand over his heart thinking this was what a heart attack must feel like.

All along he’d worried about hurting Millie. It seemed he’d hurt himself, as well.

“Get it together, Brand.” He strode into the kitchen, tugged open the fridge, and grabbing a bottle of water, chugged it so fast it gave him brain freeze. “Good.” At least it would take his mind off the ache in his chest.

Standing in the kitchen, the broken stapler lying at his feet, he couldn’t think of a worse day. He’d put his mentor in Hospice, argued with his best friend, and broken up with the only woman who’d managed to touch a place deep in his heart. A place he didn’t know existed. Until her.

He told himself the relationship already had an expiration date. He’d just moved it up a bit.

“I did the right thing,” he said to the empty loft. If that was true, why did the ache in his chest linger.

After leavi
ng Ian’s, Millie had run as far as she could before a stitch in her side stopped her. Tears froze on her cheeks. Or was it the sleet? She couldn’t tell.

His words echoed in her head.
It was wrong and I knew it.

Stupid, stupid Millie
. How could she have ever thought he’d even want a serious relationship with her, much less love her? She’d learned long ago that anything too good to be true, usually was. Fairytales didn’t come true for people like her.

Walking through the dark, cold night, she berated herself for her stupid Get a Life List. The only thing she’d accomplished from it was a broken heart. And for all that, she was still just Mousey Millie. Invisible.

Ian had made it quite clear that his interest in her was over. He’d finally come to his senses. Realized he could do so much better than her. How could she fault him for that?

Except she did.

Didn’t she deserve a little sliver of happiness?

Standing on a street corner somewhere in Washington Heights the pain of rejection consumed her, making it impossible to breathe, as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

She could now add ‘broken heart’ to her list. And check it off.

The next few weeks, M
illie saw little of Ian. The nursery and bathroom remodel was almost complete, and he’d been spending most of the days at a new job he’d started in Greenwich Village. She wondered if he’d heard anything on the Hawkins Hall job.

The searing pain of rejection had eased to a dull ache. Keeping busy helped. Darcy had two books coming out within three months of each other, making for a busy marketing and public relations schedule. She and Josh worried it might be too much with the baby due in April, but Darcy had recovered from her fall and looked radiant in her happiness.

Millie rang in the New Year as she usually did, alone with a good book, refusing Darcy’s concerned invitation to spend it with her and Josh.

As she helped Darcy hang the baby clothes in the nursery closet, and listened while Darcy chattered away about where she planned to place the furniture, she recalled the day she’d seen Ian standing among the cabinet doors, his black T-shirt covered in dust, that tool belt slung low on his hips. He’d been something to behold.

Heaving a sigh that went unnoticed by Darcy, Millie reached closure of some sort. She’d always be grateful to Ian. He’d given her a beautiful initiation into sex, and for that he’d always hold a special place in her heart. Even if that heart was no longer whole.

As Ian prepared for work, he g
lanced out the window at the bright sunshine. They predicted warmer temperatures today, so his bike was the preferred mode of transportation. Maybe he’d take a ride up to the job in Westchester later, open up the bike, clear his head.

The past few weeks had sucked. He snorted as he shoved his wallet into his back jeans pocket. That was putting it mildly. Caleb wasn’t talking to him and he’d been sleeping alone in a cold bed.

“Whose fault is that, Brand?”

He had to make things right with Caleb, as soon as he figured out how. And as for sleeping alone, well, he still believed he’d done the right thing with Millie. Even if his heart hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and his soul felt empty.

It had been a mistake bringing her to his loft. Everywhere he looked brought back memories of her. His shop, where she’d skimmed her hand along the unfinished dining room table, the wall beside the desk where he’d pinned her as he’d had mind-numbing sex with her, and, of course, his bed.
Sweet Jesus.
He had to stop this nonsense.

He’d be leaving for England in a few weeks, and he had a lot of loose ends to tie up before he left. He didn’t need memories of Millie to interfere. She’d been the best he’d ever had, and likely would ever have. And damn if wasn’t the icing on his shitastic cake.

Grabbing his leather jacket, he headed down the stairs and out to his garage. First up, the job in Greenwich Village, then on to the Xavier house in Midtown. If all went well, he’d take that ride up to Westchester, then back to spend the evening at Ruby’s side.

While most people were ringing in the promise of a New Year, he’d been preparing for goodbye.

He knew it wouldn’t be long. She spent more and more time sleeping, less awake and aware. The morphine had a lot to do with it, but the hard truth was her body was shutting down. She’d had little to eat the last four days, a sign that her body no longer needed the calories.

As much as he wanted her to stay, it was time to say goodbye. To let her know it was okay. She’d suffered enough. But that didn’t make it any easier.

The last time she’d been awake, she’d taken his hand and asked after Millie. He couldn’t tell her he’d broken up with her, so he’d lied and said that she’d been very busy. Ruby had closed her eyes, a soft smile on her face. “Marry that girl, Ian. She loves you.”

An ice pick to the heart would have hurt less. Even now, he rubbed his hand across his chest.

He picked up his helmet, then set it back on the seat as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Probably the plumber from the Greenwich Village job. “Brand.”

“Mr. Brand, this is Constance Bessler with Hospice. You need to come right away.”

Chapter 25

Millie had just shut off the lights when there was a knock at her door. Her heart jumped to her throat. Glancing at the time, she knew a knock at this hour could only mean trouble. Yet, it had to be a neighbor, because the building was secure.

She tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. Ian! Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and with one glimpse at his face, she knew. “Oh, Ian.” Tears filled her eyes. “When?”

“This morning.” His voice broke as he swiped a hand over his face. “I’ve been walking around the city, and I . . .”

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and hauled him into the apartment, into her arms, shutting the door behind him. God, he was freezing!

She didn’t know what to say. She’d had little experience with death and grief, so, she just held him. “I’m so sorry, Ian.”

He pushed off her, looked everywhere but at her. “Me, too.”

“You’re cold. How about some tea?”

“Sure.” He sank down onto the loveseat at the foot of her bed, his hands hanging limp between his thighs.

Having something to do helped her until she could figure out something to say. After filling the kettle, she set it on the burner, then opened her cupboard, selecting a soothing chamomile tea.

She shot a worried glance at him, but he just sat, staring into space. Her heart broke for him, and ached for the loss of Ruby. It didn’t matter that he’d essentially abandoned Millie. His grief was written all over his face, revealed itself in the tension in his shoulders, in the haunted look in his eyes.

And he’d come to her.

While the tea steeped in the mugs, she walked over and sat next to him. “It should be ready soon.”

He nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, then reaching up, latched onto the back of her neck and hauled her mouth to his, his tongue penetrating her open lips. Nothing gentle about his kiss. He poured all his grief, frustration, anger, and fear into that kiss. And she absorbed it all as his hands roamed her body with an urgency that left her breathless.

“Millie.” His mouth skimmed her jaw to her ear where he nipped and licked until she’d melted into a hot puddle of goo.

His hand cupped her breast and she moaned her approval, her traitorous body responding to his touch. She’d missed him. Missed this. She wouldn’t think about his abandonment of her. His rejection. She just reveled in the feel of him, the taste and smell of him. His warmth. His passion. His all-encompassing need.

Dragging her into his lap, he continued his assault, as she ground her behind into his erection, eliciting a hiss from him. Switching tacks, he lifted her indicating he wanted her to straddle him. Raising her nightgown he gazed down at her, his eyes burning with lust and the desperate need for something life-affirming. Like sex. Making quick work of his fly, he lifted her once more, sliding her onto him. She threw back her head at the sensations surging through her as he filled her.

Their coupling bordered on animalistic. Fast, furious, as he drove into her, pouring that same caustic mix of emotions when he’d first kissed her into her willing body. Grasping his shoulders, she took every punishing thrust until she cried out with her release. He followed her over the edge, her name on his lips.

Ian’s breath
ing slowly returned to normal and as it did so did his senses.
What the hell had he been thinking? To use Millie as if she were a sexual punching bag?

Her hot breath came out in pants, warming his still-chilled skin, her arms limp by her side.

He’d just needed her. Needed her so damn bad it scared the hell out of him. He’d walked all over the city in the cold, feeling lost and lonely, adrift in the sea of people he encountered on the streets. In a city of eight and a half million people, he’d never felt so alone in his life.

He could have gone to Caleb’s, but that’s not where his feet took him. Or should he say his heart?

Millie stirred.

“You okay?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“More than.” She smiled against his neck then leaned back cupping his face in her hands, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Are you?”

He didn’t know what he was except ashamed. Ashamed for using Millie. And ill-equipped to know how to handle it.

Lifting her off him, he avoided her eyes. Zipping his fly, he rose, noticed the mugs of tea still steeping on the counter.

“I’m sorry, Millie. I shouldn’t have . . .” Oh God, he was going to lose it soon. And once the torrent came it would be unstoppable. Like a dam bursting, all his emotions would swamp him in their intensity. “I have to go,” he choked out.

“Ian?” Millie’s voice held hurt and confusion. If she touched him, his resolve would crumble.

He reached the door just as she stepped behind him. Snatching it open he strode through, closing it. He never looked back as he charged down the stairs and out into the frigid night air.

Determined not to let
the hurt and the confusion over her last encounter with Ian stop her, Millie entered the Sunset Park Public Library a week later looking for Ruby’s memorial service. Seeing a sign with the meeting room and a directional arrow on it, she made her way through the friendly, familiar hush of a public library.

Entering the room, she was gratified, and not a little intimidated, to see it filled with standing room only. Ian stood at the front looking handsome, but clearly uncomfortable in a dark suit and gray tie. God, the only thing sexier than Ian in a suit was Ian out of a suit.

Her breath backed up into her lungs the second his eyes met hers. His brow creased in confusion, as she raised her hand in greeting.

Hesitating a moment, he finally made his way down the makeshift aisle created by the rows of chairs.

Her face grew hot as she remembered the last time they were together. The almost-punishing sex. Followed by yet another abandonment.

He stopped in front of her. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a voice just above a whisper.

She glanced around at the people in the room. “I came to pay my respects to Ruby”—she indicated the rest of the room—“like everyone else.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “Clearly she touched a lot of people.”

His gray eyes held pain and loss. “Yes.”

“Have you heard anything on the Hawkins Hall job?” Millie asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“I’ll be leaving in a few weeks.” He looked at a spot behind her.

“Ian, that’s, that’s terrific.” And she meant it, even as her heart broke a little more. As if that were even possible. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. You deserve most of the credit.”

“No.” Millie swallowed hard. “It’s your skills and portfolio that impressed the selection committee.”

His mouth formed a thin line. “Thanks, just the same.”

So, this was it. Probably the last time she’d see Ian Brand. She seriously doubted he’d look her up again after two years.

“I-I was wondering, could I, that is, would you mind if I read something . . .?”

Something flickered across his face. Surprise? “She’d have liked that.”

She relaxed a millimeter. “Just . . . whenever it fits the program.”

He nodded, and she turned to stand in the back corner as more people filed in. The more people who came, the more butterflies took flight in her stomach. Could she stand up in front of all those people, the center of attention, no matter how momentary it was?

She owed it to Ruby.

Ian stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat. He appeared nervous too, but she noted his lack of notes.

“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming today to celebrate the life of Ruby Van Buren Sinclair. I’m Ian Brand and at this time, I’d like to invite Meg Dryer, head librarian for Sunset Park, to say a few words about Ruby.” Ian stepped back, his hands clasped in front of him looking for all the world like a lost little boy.

Ian stood as one person after anoth
er came up to the podium, all talking about how Ruby had sparked a love of reading in them or their children, or their grandchildren. Ruby had been loved, respected, and admired. She’d touched countless lives, opened doors for so many, him included, and she would leave behind a void that very few people could fill. He rubbed his hand over the emptiness in his chest, an emptiness left deeper by Ruby’s death.

When he held her hand as she’d breathed her last breath, the grief had been a physical thing. A great snarling beast that tore open his chest, stealing his own breath, suffocating him. She’d left him. Alone.

His gaze drifted to the front row where Caleb and Jillie sat, and Caleb’s words came back to him.
You’d better start letting people in, or you’re gonna find yourself all alone someday.

They’d yet to make amends, but it didn’t matter. Caleb was there. He had always been there when Ian needed him.

He lifted his eyes to the painfully shy woman in brown who stood in the back of the room, wiping tears from her cheeks. No. Not alone. If he’d just reach out, she’d be there. He just needed the courage to do it.

When the last speaker finished, he returned to the podium. “Millie? Would you like to come up?”

At her nod, she glanced around the room at all the people, then slowly made her way down the aisle, all eyes following her progress. When she stepped up to the podium, she looked like she did the day that the delivery truck barreled toward her. She swallowed hard, stared out at the sea of faces, then cracked open the book in her hands. Tentative at first, her voice found its courage as she read from Emily Dickinson:

“‘If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain:

If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.’”

“I didn’t know Ruby very long, but we shared a love of reading, especially the classics, and she welcomed me into her home and made me feel like family. And from what I’ve heard about her, she’d give a person the shirt off her back if she thought it would help.” Millie sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I’ll miss her.”

Ian felt his chest swell with pride. Standing in front of a crowd, the center of attention, speaking from her heart, Millie Stephens was the bravest woman he knew.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, Millie lifted her
gaze to the mourners. She’d done it. She’d seen Ian again, she’d spoken before an audience, paid her respects to Ruby, and she’d survived.

Glancing back at Ian, she was shocked to see his eyes shining with unshed tears. She reached for him, but he shook his head, and the pain of rejection warred with the pain of grief. Closing her book, she walked back down the aisle, feeling his eyes on her.

“Thank you, Millie.” His voice gruff with emotion, he stood with his hands in his pants pockets. Clearing his throat he began, “I’ve known Ruby since I was twelve years old when she took pity on a frightened kid with a chip on his shoulders. She and her late husband, Curtis, became the parents my own mother and stepfather couldn’t be. Ruby guided me through my adolescence, with a little help from Curtis when I needed a kick in the pants, gave me a home until I could support myself, and helped me start my business.

In other words, they,
she
, made me the man I am today.” He paused, lifted his eyes to the ceiling, then looked out at the mourners. “I’ll miss her more than she will ever know.”

Millie stifled a sob as tears ran down her cheeks.
Oh, Ian. I’m so, so very sorry.
The urge to comfort him overwhelmed her. But he didn’t want her. The sooner she accepted that, the better off she’d be. Having done what she’d come to do, she left quietly, leaving Ian to face his grief. Alone.