From the Beginning (22 page)

Unfortunately, it seemed her talent for lying to herself—especially about Simon—had disappeared along with everything else after Gabby’s death.

Happy housewarming to her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SIMON POPPED THE TOP off the champagne and resisted the urge to drink straight from the bottle. He felt as if he was going to explode, and if he couldn’t have Amanda, then he definitely needed something to calm him down.

“I forgot to bring glasses,” he told her as she entered the kitchen behind him.

“I got some.” He heard her rummage around for a second, then she handed him two plastic champagne flutes.

He glanced at her in surprise.

She shrugged. “I bought champagne, too. Figured a celebration was in order.”

“Absolutely.” He handed her a glass.

“What should we toast to?” she asked.

He glanced around. “That the house doesn’t fall down around your ears?”

“Excuse me. We’re supposed to be celebrating my new home, not poking fun at it.” She rolled her eyes, and it was such an un-Amanda-like thing to do that he stared at her. And then realized his mistake as he hardened to the point of pain. “Besides, it’s not that bad.”

“I know. I like it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I do. It’s got personality. I think it’s a good start.”

“Maybe. I hope so.” She glanced around, and though her smile was a little tight, her eyes were clear. “So let’s toast to that.” She held up her glass. “To a new start.”

They touched glasses, drank, and he never took his eyes off her. He couldn’t. She really did look beautiful tonight, her skin glowing with a health and vitality that had been missing three weeks before. And though she was still too thin, it was obvious that she’d been making an effort to eat regularly. She filled out her jeans and scoop-necked T-shirt a little better than she had the last time he saw her.

He was glad she was doing well, thrilled that she was slowly moving past the nightmare of Gabby’s death. But he wasn’t sure what it said about him that, after everything that had passed between them, he still wanted her. Even when he knew that she didn’t feel the same way about him.

“So, are you hungry?” she asked a little nervously, and he realized he’d been staring at her too long.

“Yeah, sure.” As he followed her back to the dining room, the bottle of champagne still clutched in his hand, he didn’t bother to tell her that food was the last thing he was hungry for.

He was supposed to be on his best behavior, after all, and accosting her the first time she let him back in was probably not the best way to convince her to continue whatever weird, twisting path their relationship was set to take next. He had no intention of doing anything to jeopardize this newfound truce between them. Even if it killed him.

And it just might, he thought, watching as she bent down to arrange something on the pretty yellow quilt she’d spread on the dining-room floor. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and trace the gorgeous curves of her ass. To run his lips down her belly and feast again on the sweet, syrupy warmth of her.

Putting on the best poker face of his life, he sat across the makeshift table and asked casually, “So, what do you have planned for the house? You said you were going to get the kitchen gutted?”

The look she gave him was half puzzled and half amused. “You don’t really want to spend dinner talking about the house, do you?”

No, he wanted to spend dinner with her spread- eagled on the blanket as he trailed crushed strawberries over every inch of her before licking her clean. But since that option was obviously not available, he figured hearing about her plans was as good a way as any to try and dampen the raging erection he’d had since she opened the door.

Much to his surprise, dinner passed easily as she told him about the different phases of remodeling she wanted to do. The kitchen was first—she had hired a company to deal with it, and had already picked out appliances and cabinets. The other stuff—not including plumbing and electric—she planned on doing herself, one painstaking room at a time.

“I’m hoping it will be cathartic,” she told him over another glass of champagne and the best Turtles brownies he’d ever eaten. “Working with my hands, fixing up the house. If I’m lucky, maybe for each room I put back together I’ll get another piece of who I am back.” She shrugged. “It’s cheaper than therapy.”

“I don’t think you’re missing that many pieces.”

“You might be surprised. I’m pretty much a waffling ball of neuroses at the moment.”

“I’ve seen my share of neurotics through the years, Amanda, and you do not fit that bill.”

“No? Then how would you describe me?”

“My best guess? Someone who’s down but not out. You’ve had it rough, no doubt, but you’re making your way back—”

“Clawing my way back, don’t you mean?”

“Whatever. As long as you finish the journey, how you do it doesn’t matter to me.”

She looked away. “I still don’t know if…”

“If what?” he asked when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to continue.

“If I can handle being with you again. I invited you here because I wanted you to know that I’m okay, that I’m putting my life back together. But I don’t know how much more I’m ready for. If anything, I mean.”

“Is being my friend really that stressful?”

She laughed, but the humor had drained from her beautiful face. “Yeah. It kind of is.”

Well, wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? And here he’d been on his best behavior all night. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to go?”

“I don’t know what I want,” she told him passionately. “That’s the whole problem. I can’t figure it out. I mean, I know I want the past two years to never have happened—to go back to a time when Gabby was alive and healthy and whole.

“But since I can’t have that, I don’t know what else there is to wish for. What else there is to want. And believe me, I don’t expect you to stick around while I try to figure it out.”

He stiffened before he could stop himself. “So, you don’t want me to stick around?”

“That’s not what I said. I don’t know what I want right now and that’s the truth. It’s like I’m treading water, trying to keep from drowning. But no matter how hard I try to stay afloat, I keep getting pulled back under.”

“And you don’t think I can help with that?” He struggled to understand, but it was difficult when all he wanted to do was wrap her in cotton and keep her safe. Even if it meant she never got in the water again.

“I think you probably could. But I can’t do that again. I can’t put my emotional health and well-being in someone else’s hands, because what do I do when it goes bad again, Simon? I don’t know if I’d have the willpower to do all this again.”

“You’re so sure it will end?” He held his breath, waiting to hear what she would say. In his head, he knew she had reservations about him, about them, but he wanted the chance to prove her wrong. He wasn’t the same man she remembered, wasn’t the same man who was so caught up in his own control issues that he refused to believe his daughter was dying until it was too late.

Until she was already gone.

He’d learned his lesson and he wanted Amanda to know that. Didn’t want to leave tonight until he’d gotten her to believe and accept that.

“I don’t want to take the chance.”

“Let me take the chance, Amanda. Let me take care of you. I swear, I won’t run out on you—” He broke off when he saw the look on her face. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Trying to control everything?”

“A little bit.” She scooted closer, until he could smell the sweet, spicy scent of her and it drove him crazy. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to make love to her until he chased the shadows from her eyes once and for all.

But then, that was a pipe dream, wasn’t it? Life had given them both a lot of hard knocks until neither of them was the same person they’d once been. He needed to accept that he couldn’t be everything to her this time around. She wouldn’t let him.

He started to tell her he understood where she was coming from, but was stopped by the feel of her hand cupping his cheek. It felt so good to have her touch him again that he closed his eyes so he could savor every second of it.

A part of him wanted to reach up and capture her hand, to hold it right where it was until all of her warmth seeped into him. But he knew doing so would send the wrong message, so he kept his hands where they were—resting lightly on his knees—though it was damn hard.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to wait,” she told him softly. “I thought we could let each other go and everything would be okay.”

An instinctive protest rose inside him. “Amanda—”

“Shh.” She moved her hand until her fingers covered his lips. “But that doesn’t seem to be working out so well for either of us. I missed you these past few weeks, hated being this close to you and not having any contact with you.”

Her words were exactly what he needed to hear and he nodded, encouraging her to continue as the beginnings of sweet relief started blossoming inside of him.

“At the same time, I don’t know how much I have to give to anyone, Simon. Even you. Especially you. Every ounce of energy I have has to go toward making me well.”

“I understand that,” he murmured against her fingers, then insisted, “I do,” when he saw her skeptical look. “But I was miserable without you these past weeks. Can’t we just take things slow, try to be friends?”

“You really think we can do that? With everything between us?”

Hell, no. Not when he wanted her so much that every breath he took was an agony. But if it meant the difference between having her in his life or losing her forever, he’d wear the friend cap for a while. It wasn’t as if he’d never had to do it before.

“Except for these past eighteen months, we’ve been friends all along, haven’t we?” He did take her hand now, squeezed it. “That’s a lot of history to just throw away.”

“I feel closer to Gabby when I’m with you,” she whispered.

They weren’t quite the words he wanted to hear, but he knew what she meant. It was the same for him.

“I know,” he told her.

“You don’t mind?”

“She was my daughter, too.” And her absence from the world was an arrow through his gut every single day of his life.

Understanding dawned and she scooted closer to him, until he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. “I know. And I’m sorry for all the terrible things I said. At the funeral, when you came for me in Africa. I was in pain, but that’s no excuse.”

“Believe me, I’m not holding a grudge. I deserved everything you said, Mandy.”

“No, you didn’t. I was suffering and wanted you to suffer, too. I forgot that you already were.”

He closed his eyes and lay his head on her shoulder as the old, familiar guilt overwhelmed him. Her arms came around him and she held him for long minutes, neither of them knowing what else to say but neither wanting to break the connection.

Finally, Amanda whispered, “Simon?”

He lifted his head reluctantly. “Yes?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”