Losing You (Stars On Fire Book 4) (42 page)

Her eyes fell to the sleeping baby, but not before he saw the tears in them. Abruptly, she stood up and placed Maddox in the bassinet then turned around and stared at him.

“Tom helped me get over you—only after I got done being angry with him. I couldn’t believe neither of you discussed your drug use with me. I’m not the kind to hold a grudge, but then again, getting over you . . .” she said, coming back to the bed, her shirt still undone. He stared. He couldn’t help it. Her gorgeous breasts were there, barely covered by the open shirt. When she spoke again, he lifted his eyes to her face. “I remember feeling so shocked when I realized my feelings for Tom ran deeper than friendship, and his for me. It was something I never expected, but was very happy when it came to me. Tom blessed my life in so many ways, Marc. From the moment I met him in high school to today and probably well into the future. And I . . .” she stopped and turned towards the open balcony doors.

“What? Talk to me.”

“No . . . I’m ashamed to say it.”

He stood up and went to her side. “Hey, you can tell me—” he started but she whipped around, her face awash with emotion.

“I’m so angry that Tom isn’t here! Why did he have to be on that damn motorcycle that night? Why couldn’t he have taken his damn delivery truck instead? And then why did he have to get all fucking romantic on me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” he asked, confused.

“Never mind.”

He took her arm, pulling her closer, needing this truth. Whatever it was. “Elizabeth.”

“I don’t want to hurt you . . .”

“You won’t.”

“Tom was going to ask me to marry him . . . that night. He’d been preparing his house for the occasion, ring and all.”

Okay . . . he had been wrong. That hurt. Like swift-kick-to-his-dick kind of hurt.

Tom would have had it all—Lizzie, a son . . . a family.

But Tom had none of it because he was dead and that was worse.

Shit
, Marc thought in realization. How did Lizzie even know about this? Tom had died before ever asking the question. “How can you even think about this hurting me? All I can think of is you finding that out.”

Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and then she shook her head slightly, a small smile teasing her lips, surprising him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Marc. Never doubt that,” she said, cupping his face. “You’ve been so wonderful to me. You’ve helped me through one of the hardest times in my life. Still are, and I never expected that . . . your friendship after everything.”

“It’s the least I can give you,” he replied, their faces inches apart.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You always say that,” she said, the smile on her face growing, then her soft lips were on his, her hands holding his face to hers, the movement pulling open her shirt. The kiss was sweet, tender, and she didn’t pull away—she kissed him twice again, and when she was done, she exhaled against his lips.

“Thank you,” she said softly, kissing him yet again.

“You’re welcome,” he said, hugging her, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. “Now . . . I’d like to discuss something.”

“Hmm,” she said, her cheek finding its home on his chest, her fingers grazing his back.

“Did you realize we had this whole conversation with your shirt unbuttoned?”

Her fingers stilled and she gasped. “Marc!”

“What?” he laughed.

“You should’ve told me!”

“Oh, Elizabeth, that wasn’t going to happen. Your breasts are the things of fantasies.”

“That’s the only place you’ll be seeing them,” she grumbled, yet did nothing to fix her shirt.

“Oh . . . I already have plenty of fantasies with them front and center,” he said, grinning at her.

Her eyes widened at that confession and the flush on her cheeks pretty much matched her hair.

“Six weeks,” she said, her hands stopping at the waistband of his shorts.

“What’s in six weeks?” he asked, confused.

“When we can work on some of your fantasies.”

“What? You serious?”

“If I hadn’t just pushed a six-pound baby out of my vagina, we’d be working on them now.”

“Yeah . . . that, you should probably rest.”

She laughed and shook her head in disbelief.

“You staying?” she asked with hopeful eyes.

His hands went to her shirt and slowly buttoned it up. “I’m not going anywhere, Elizabeth.”

Lizzie

November 13, 2010

The day was beautiful. Warm, not a cloud in the sky. Not really typical for a Chicago November, but she’d take it because it was a perfect day for a picnic with her favorite little guy.

Lizzie put down the blanket on the yellowing grass then took Maddox out of the stroller and put him down for some outdoor tummy time—his new favorite thing to do . . . especially with Uncles Ollie and Marc. Those two men spent so much time rolling a ball back and forth to her son. Though right now, all he did was look at it.

Her friends were always around, as was Mrs. Myers. She’d moved in for the first couple weeks of Mad’s life and helped Lizzie acclimate to motherhood.

Marc visited pretty much daily. He probably spent more time at her place than his own. He took her to every single doctor’s appointment, to the store . . . sometimes doing that without her. He’d grumble about it, but there’d always be a twinkle in his eyes. He’d then take Maddox from her “to give her arms a break.” More like so he could have a little buddy to sit with him while he watched the Cubs games. She was pretty sure Mad’s first word would be “Cubbies” and not “Mama.” She’d be fine with that because what she got in the process was to see how much Marc loved her son.

Her time alone with Marc hadn’t crossed the sexual line again. There were plenty of hugs and snuggles, but for the most part, she’d been too exhausted to even entertain it. She knew it would happen—eventually, but for now, she had enjoyed his presence even the times when he holed up in her office, busy finishing up his second book. She loved sitting on the office sofa watching him write. If she wanted to watch TV, he’d follow her to the living room to write.

More often than not, she’d fall asleep in whatever room they were in, but when she awoke, she’d find herself tucked into bed.

Another thing that she’d been loving was that every single dinner had at least Marc, Gwen, Ollie, or Mrs. Myers at it.

Every single one.

Today though . . . it would be just Lizzie and her son.

For today would’ve been his daddy’s thirty-fourth birthday. It was also the one-year anniversary of his death.

Kneeling down, she stared ahead, her eyes blurring as the tears rushed to the surface. One year without him.

“God,” she said, wiping her eyes, focusing on the gravestone in front of her. “I didn’t think this would be so hard. I didn’t think talking to you would feel like I was pulling my own heart out. I miss you so fucking much, Tom. I wish that you were part of Maddox’s life. I would love to share these moments with you. I just hope you’re watching him from above. That you can see his goofy little grins and his contagious giggles,” she said as her son let out a giggle. The sweet sound pulling up her mouth in a smile. She tickled his chubby little legs and he giggled some more. Lizzie turned her head back to the headstone. “I hope that you will get to see him as he grows into a toddler . . . a school kid, a young adult—a man. I wish I had you by my side because I need advice, I need support. And that’s one reason why I’m here.”

She picked up Maddox and placed him in her lap, his happy gurgles making her laugh. “I want to talk to you about something, Tom. I . . . uh, well . . . you see, I’ve got these feelings for someone . . . the lovey-dovey kind. Like serious, forever kind of love. I find myself thinking about forever with him. I see our future with him,” she said looking down at her smiling boy. “He’s so amazing with Maddox. Every time I see him with our son, I know—he’ll make the best father for him.”

Taking a breath, Lizzie thought about what Tom would ask her . . . did she forgive Marc for what happened? Tom was there with her when she went through that. He saw her pain. It was a valid question . . . one that she’d asked herself. Maybe in the past it would have been different but right here, right now . . .”I forgive him. He’s proven himself to me over and over. I trust him to be there for your son and I. He won’t hurt me like that again. He’ll be there for me, just like he has been the past year, helping me move on just like you did when he left me.”

Saying this next part pulled the tears from her. It was the step she never had wanted to take . . . ever. What she found with Tom was a dream she’d never known she had but when it came to be, it was everything she had wanted. Her best friend as the man who would be by her side as she walked the path to her future. He left her alone on that path. For a time, it seemed like the path ended, then she found out she was going to be a mother and the path lit up again. She had been able to see a future, though it had been hazy. But it wasn’t anymore, she just had to take this step.

“This is not how my story ends . . . me alone with Maddox. I’m ready, Tom. I’m ready to take this step forward. I just need to know that it’s okay—that my best friend thinks I’m making the right choice, that he’s okay with it. Because this guilt . . . ugh . . . I
know
you can’t speak to me but . . . I don’t know honestly,” she said, looking at her baby for some guidance . . . of any sort. A sign . . . something.

He just giggled at her.

Yeah . . . she thought as much.

Lizzie stared out at the cemetery before her, trying to get her thoughts together. Her eyes focused on a bird flying their way. As it flew closer, she saw it was a pigeon. It landed on the headstone next to Tom’s. The bird cooed and cocked its head side to side at her.

She mimicked the bird and it copied her back. Scrunching up her face, she stared at the bird. It felt like the bird was looking at her, trying to send her a message.

“You have a message for me, birdy?”

“
Ooh . . . oooo . . . oor
,” it answered.

Whoa.

“So . . . am I making the right choice?” she asked and smiled when it cooed, repeating its soft, throaty message. “Okay . . . okay,” she said, nodding, her smile wide now that she had a decision. “’Til I see you again, Tom. I love you.”

“
Coo rooooo
,” the bird uttered and flew off.

Lizzie

November 14, 2010

“Hey, Elizabeth,” came Marc’s voice over the phone. Lizzie checked the clock on the stove—he should have been in the air, not talking to her.

“What’s going on?” she asked going straight to the issue. That he was calling instead of on his flight had chills, and not the good kind, racing thru her body.

He’d been gone for the past two weeks out in L.A. meeting with his screenwriter friend to finish up their screenplay. Marc had already delayed his return which she’d been fine with, but now she just wanted him home.

“No ‘Hello, Marc’ or ‘I missed your sexy face?’”

“Hello, Marc. I missed your sexy face. Now what’s going on? You should be on the plane heading home . . .”

“That’s more like it,” he said in his smooth as whiskey voice, and she chuckled softly, not wanting to encourage him because then she’d
never
get an answer out of him. “Hi, Elizabeth. I missed your beautiful face too, especially that smile of yours.”

When he said that, she couldn’t help but believe him and she smiled, feeling a damn blush cover her cheeks. “Marc—”

“It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Marc? Is everything okay?”

“Yes . . . it is . . . well, except for the fact that I have to wait to see you. Flight’s been delayed. Mechanical something or another.”

“Oh . . .”

“But . . . I’m booked on another flight. Mia’s with me. I was wondering if you could meet me at her place.”

“Sure.”

“How are you, Elizabeth?”

“Actually good. I took Maddox to visit Tom’s grave yesterday.”

His sigh over the line made her frown. “I’m sorry this took longer than I had anticipated. I wish I could have been there for you.”

“I appreciate that, but it was good for me to do it on my own.”