From the Beginning (28 page)

“He’s my ex,” she told him.

“I figured. Better your ex than your current, if tonight’s behavior is anything to go by.”

“It isn’t, actually. In the twelve years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like this.” She couldn’t help rushing to his defense, even though she had no desire to tell Lucas why today was such a rough one for Simon. If she did, she’d have to admit that it was an awful day for her, as well. And while she could see herself being friends with her boss, it was hard enough to live through today without actually having to talk about it.

Before she could say any more, they stopped in front of Simon’s apartment complex. Lucas helped her wrestle him into the elevator. “You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, before stepping into the lobby.

“Of course. I’m going to get him settled and then watch him for a little while, make sure he’s metabolizing everything okay.”

Lucas nodded. “All right, then. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

As the car quickly ascended the twenty-one floors, Simon groaned and clutched at her. “Make it stop, for the love of God.”

“Are you going to be sick?” She tried to step away from him.

“I don’t know. Everything’s spinning.”

“Yeah, you’re going to be sick.” She fished in his pockets for his keys, and as soon as the elevator stopped, she hustled him out and down the hall. He was so unsteady on his feet that she ended up half carrying him to his apartment. As soon as she got the door unlocked, he lurched toward the bathroom.

She made sure he got their safely, then turned around and headed to his kitchen. If he had any hope of functioning in the morning, he needed to drink water—and lots of it—before he went to bed.

After filling up a large glass and grabbing some ibuprofen to go with it, she wandered back to the bathroom, where Simon was leaning weakly over the toilet. “You doing okay?” she asked.

The sound of him getting sick again was her only answer.

Leaving him to it, she went into the bedroom and turned down his bed. A couple of minutes later, she heard the water running in the bathroom down the hall and went to help him.

She managed to get him into bed, but he turned his head away when she gave him water.

“You need to drink,” she told him in her best doctor’s voice.

Finally, he did, draining the glass in one long gulp. Putting it on the nightstand, or trying to, he whispered, “Sorry about this, Mandy.” His words were still slurred. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.”

She shook her head. “What were you thinking, Simon?”

“Didn’t want to think,” he mumbled. “Hurts too much.”

Her heart broke a little for him, for this man who always, always, always stayed in control. For him to get this drunk—and in public—he had to be hurting as much as she was. She felt bad for all the terrible things she’d thought about him throughout the day. He hadn’t forgotten Gabby’s birthday. He’d been using it as another tool to torture himself.

She started to move away, but his hand snaked out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone,” she assured him. “I’m just going to go in the other room. Let you sleep.”

“Stay with me,” he repeated, tugging at her until she gave in and sat by the side of the bed.

“Okay. I’ll stay until you sleep.”

He awkwardly maneuvered both of them until she was spread out on the bed next to him. “Sleep with me.”

“Simon…”

He kissed her cheek so sweetly that she wondered if he had somehow sobered up, but a quick look in his eyes told her he was as intoxicated as ever. “Stay with me, Mandy.” He rested his head in the curve of her neck. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”

She never had been able to resist him when he put his mind to it. Eventually, she nodded and he curled himself around her. “So cold,” he whispered, shivering.

She pulled the comforter over him. She might die of heatstroke, but if it made him feel better—

He kicked the cover off. Then, with another long shudder, drifted off to sleep. As she lay there long into the night, listening to him breathe, it occurred to her that when he’d complained of the cold, he hadn’t been talking about the temperature.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SIMON SURFACED SLOWLY from a sleep so deep it bordered on unconsciousness. His mind was sluggish, his body heavy, and he had no idea where he was. He remembered taking the day off work and drinking himself into oblivion, remembered walking down the street to the bar when he ran out of liquor in his apartment. But everything after his first mojito was a blur.

What had he done last night? he wondered a little frantically. And why wasn’t his head throbbing the way it should be? It wasn’t pleasant, but no one was wearing clogs and doing the cha-cha, either, which was probably more than he deserved.

Cracking his eyes open a little, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that he was in his own bed. So whatever he’d done, it couldn’t have been that bad if he’d managed to find his way back to his apartment. He sat up slowly, and only years of controlling…everything…kept him from yelping in surprise.

He might be in his own place, but he was wrapped around Amanda. She was asleep, as dead to the world as he’d been moments before. But what was she doing here? In his bed? And how could he have been so drunk that he didn’t remember?

A quick glance under the covers told him they were both fully dressed, which meant nothing had happened—thank God. He couldn’t imagine not being able to remember making love to Amanda. But still, how had she gotten here? Why had she come?

Moving as quietly as he could, he slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. It tasted as if something had crawled into his mouth and died overnight, and he was dying to brush his teeth. But the second he flipped on the light, his head exploded. Actually blew up at the same time that shards of glass stabbed into his brain. That had to be it—there was no other explanation for the pain.

Eyes closed, he fumbled the light off and immediately the pain got better. He brushed his teeth with his eyes half-closed, then went into the bedroom with the intent of crawling into bed with Amanda again.

He might not know what she was doing there, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy every second of it.

Except, when he glanced at the bed, she was sitting up and stretching, which did amazing things for her breasts. It was a view he took full advantage of, despite the headache brewing in the back of his brain. And as he walked closer, he wanted nothing more than to take one of her strawberry-red nipples in his mouth—through her blouse, if necessary.

He loved the little sound she made in her throat when he did that.

“You’re awake,” he said, parking himself on the mattress next to her.

“So I am.” Her hand reached out and smoothed his hair back from his face. He figured he looked an awful lot like a wild man right now, but the tenderness in her eyes said that didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.” At her inquiring look, he continued, “If I did anything last night to offend you. I don’t remember what happened. I don’t even know how I got here, let alone how you did.”

She smiled. “Yeah, well, you were so drunk I’m shocked you remembered your own name for a while there. I found you in a bar, so wasted you could barely function. My friend and I brought you back here.”

He groaned. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. Did I embarrass you?”

“I think he understood.”

It took a second for what she’d said to register, but when it did, he felt his heart stop. “He?”

“Lucas. My boss. He took me out for a drink, since I looked so beat last night.”

He didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t want her boss or any other man anywhere near her, but he knew better than to say anything. Yet. Besides, there were more important things for them to talk about.

“I should have called you. I meant to. I swear, I did. I just—” He sighed. “I couldn’t. It was a bad day.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, reaching her hand out to squeeze his. “I know.”

“I miss her, Amanda. I miss the way she used to tell those corny jokes. Remember? ‘What did one bone say to the other bone?’”

The sound she made was half laughter, half sob. “‘We have to stop meeting at this joint.’”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I miss the way she was always decorating something, making it prettier…and pinker.”

“Including your favorite belt.”

“Exactly. I yelled at her for that.”

“Because she deserved to be yelled at.” She scooted closer, until her head rested on his chest. “You can’t second-guess every second of your time with her. For years, she was a typical, mischievous little girl—one who got in trouble sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There wasn’t enough time. I didn’t let there be enough time,” he corrected himself. “I missed so much.”

Amanda didn’t say anything to that, but then, what could she? He had been an absentee father for Gabby’s whole life. Wishing it was different wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t give him back all those birthdays he’d missed. Nor would it put him by Gabby’s side the day she died.

Nausea welled up inside him, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the many ways he’d failed his daughter—and her mother. He’d loved both of them more than anything, and he hadn’t been able to handle that. Hadn’t been able to tolerate the loss of control, and in the end, they’d all paid for his weakness. He’d lost both Gabby and Mandy.

Self-loathing overwhelmed him and he turned his head away from Amanda. God, some days he wished he could just shed this body of his. Slip out of his skin into nothingness. It would be better than spending his life trying not to see his own reflection in the mirror. Anything would.

Amanda reached up, turned his head to face her. “You have to let it go, Simon.”

“I can’t.” He choked the words out.

“You have to. Or you’re going to end up destroying yourself just as surely as I have. Isn’t that why you came to Africa? To save me? Don’t you think you deserve the same courtesy?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You fought for her every day. All I did was run away.”

“I failed.”

“What?”

“I’ve spent my whole life making sure I never failed at anything. Even the patients I lost were ones who were so far gone when they got to me that I couldn’t save them. Yet I couldn’t save Gabby. No matter what I did, no matter what doctor I called or what treatment I tried, I couldn’t make her better. I failed at the one thing I wasn’t supposed to fail at.”

Shock ricocheted through him. “Is that what you think? Mandy, you did everything you could.”

“And it still wasn’t enough. So, obviously, I missed something, let something slip. If I’d known sooner, if I’d tried a little harder, Gabby would still be—”

“No. That’s not true. Sometimes people die, no matter what you do.”

“Or what you don’t.” There were tears on her cheeks when she cupped his face in her hands. “She didn’t die because you weren’t there, Simon. In fact, I think she held on longer than she might have because of you.”

“At her funeral, you said—”