One Millhaven Lane (3 page)

"Why does that concern you?"

"What shame you bring down on yourself, you bring down on me, divorced or not."

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable." Nate watched her lips curl into a sneer. He didn't care what she thought of him.

"How long is she in town this time?"

Nate shrugged. "A few days."

"Daddy said she intends to put Joanna's house on the market."

"Why are you asking me questions when you have all the answers?" Of course, he knew the answer to that. Catherine loved to rub his failures in his face and by her smug expression, she was particularly loving that she could tonight.

"You're still bitter you missed seeing her at Joanna's funeral." She took her hand from the newel post and removed her leather gloves, one finger at a time, not once removing her gaze from his face. "Will you ever learn she doesn't want anything to do with you?"

"Get on with it, Catherine, and tell me why you're here."

She reached into her clutch and came out with a sheaf of share certificates. "As per your agreement, sign the back of these and I'll be on my way."

Nate had forgotten about the share certificates until his lawyer reminded him last week. In fact, that last detail had escaped everyone's attention and now, as he peered at the certificates clutched in his ex-wife's hand, this was the first he'd seen of them. Her father had bragged about giving his son-in-law shares in his construction business, but what people didn't know was that Ambrose hadn't actually turned them over to Nate, which caused him to wonder whether there was any truth to the gift, or the symbol of good faith, as Ambrose referred to the gesture. It would appear that his ex-father-in-law had been on the up-and-up all along. That surprised Nate.

"An offer I can't refuse." Once he turned over his shares in her father's construction business, he'd sever all connection to Catherine and her overbearing father. He took the pen from the hall table and scribbled his name on the certificates. "If that'll be all," he said, handing the shares to her, "thank you for stopping by. I know you always have my best interests at heart."

She huffed a breath and strode toward him. "Do yourself a favor and stop pining after someone you will never have."

Nate had taken all he intended to take from his ex-wife that evening. He turned and opened the door.

She gave him the
look
.
 

He wouldn't let it affect him.

"Good night, Catherine." It took a great effort, but he closed the door after her without reverberation, her advice bouncing off the walls of his mind like a rubber ball.

It wasn't true. Catherine didn't know and could never understand what he and Asia had shared. He could make Asia love him again, if only she'd give him the chance. Life wasn't worth living without her. At one time, she felt that way about him. Maybe she could again.

In the living room, he plunked himself on the recliner, moaning Asia's name and cursing destiny. Time was running out for him. Once Joanna's house was sold, Asia would have no reason to return to the Grove. There would be no more chance opportunities to see her.

Asia had never set a pattern, varying her trips to see her mother, but not an entire month would pass without a visit. He had known every time she was in town. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. When the hunch came upon him, he'd drop what he was doing and take a drive to Millhaven Lane and sure enough, her car would sit in her mother's driveway.

At any of those hundreds of times, he could have pulled to the curb, gotten out of the car and rung Joanna's doorbell. But he never did, choosing instead to settle for glimpses of Asia through a window. On one of those occasions, he noticed she'd dyed her hair black. The change was drastic, but he'd loved it.

Over the years, he'd kept a close watch on Joanna. It didn't make up for mistrusting her daughter or his idiocy, but he needed to make amends somehow.

What he wouldn't do for an
undo
button.

Nate thought back to that morning. He'd recognized her as she drove by him at the turn-off to the Grove. He also knew she was not speeding, but believed Asia would think she had been. From the first time she climbed behind the wheel of a car, she never gave a thought to checking the fuel gauge or speedometer. It was always at his and Joanna's reminders that she stopped at a gas station to re-fuel. He'd always pictured Asia somewhere dark and dangerous with an empty gas tank. Their pleas to maintain the speed limit went unheard, though. At least, then. Perhaps someone in her life had finally made her understand the importance of keeping on top of menial tasks and attention to details, however trivial she might consider them.

Enough, Nate told himself.

No more reminiscing.

No more self-badgering.

He needed to move, to be somewhere else, some place where the past wouldn't haunt him. He sprang from his chair, sprinted into the foyer, grabbed his car keys and sped out the door.

On the way to Millhaven Lane, he promised to only drive past, slowly though, affording himself the little opportunity to catch Asia at ease, to see her as he used to see her. He pictured her then with wind-tousled hair, her cheeks bursting with color, and eyes solely for him.

Outside her house, he set his foot gently on the brake until the car coasted to a stop.

This is a bad idea, Nate. Really bad.

A light burned dimly in the living room. He pictured Asia reading a cozy mystery and sitting with her legs folded under her, an afghan crocheted by her mother draped across her lap.

He put the car in park and turned off the motor.

Don't do anything stupid, Nate.

I won't.

He pulled the keys from the ignition, got out of the car and walked the several feet to the front porch, fabricating a lie so he wouldn't seem desperate.

Someone reported a prowler in the neighborhood. Thought you should know. Keep your doors and windows locked.

No. Asia would see straight through that for what it was — a lame excuse to talk to her.

Okay, then. Maybe this:
Since dinner, I can't think of anything else but you.
No good, either. Too bad, she'd say. You should have thought of that before you betrayed our love and me.

Of the many times he'd apologized, he never managed to say anything else before she either slammed the door on him, walked away from him, or turned in the other direction. On one particular instance at a fruit stand, he hadn't managed an apology at all. She'd thrown a banana at him when she noticed him approaching. He could still see the yellow missile sailing toward him and whizzing past his head with a quarter of an inch to spare. It took that incident for him to realize Asia wanted nothing more to do with him and no amount of apologies would change her mind.

Again, the thought crossed his mind how bad an idea this was.

Nate pressed a finger on the doorbell.

Ding. Dong.

He imagined Asia unfolding her legs from beneath her and throwing aside the coverlet that kept her warm against a chill. She'd wonder who was at her door at this hour of the evening, but wouldn't feel frightened. Nothing ever happened in the Grove. She answered the door barefoot and wearing sweat pant cut-offs and a mid-riff tank top, her toenails painted a glossy black.

He looked into her blue eyes and before all reason left him, he said in a rush, "Hi."

She inhaled deeply, folded her arms against her chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.

Seconds passed where all she did was stare at him. He grew uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Maybe he'd misread her eyes. Maybe she hadn't finally fully forgiven him. But, hell, they belonged together. He had to make her see that somehow, make her understand life was too short to miss a second and that they should be together as they'd pledged.

Make your move, Nate. It's now or never.

He let his heart speak for him. "When you entered the dining room tonight, I lost my breath. You always had that effect on me and all these years of living without you have been torture. What I did was wrong and God knows, you have a right to your hurt and anger, but you could never hate me more than I hate myself." He searched her eyes, willing them to tell him the truth — that she loved him as much as he did her and had never stopped loving him. But he couldn't determine anything from her expressionless face. If he could make her see she still loved him, she'd give him another chance. He was sure of it.

"I'll do right by you. I'll never let anyone or anything stand in our way again. As the Lord is my witness, I promise I will. Let me prove my love for you, Asia." To his utter surprise, she rose on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his cheek.

"I forgive you, Nate. Truly, I do."

He opened his mouth to speak. She silenced him with a kiss.

Nate had awaited this moment for eighteen years. She forgave his betrayal and from what he could determine, intended to make up for the time they'd lost. But something wasn't right and he couldn't continue without knowing. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he broke off the kiss.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Asia's heels hit the floor, and she looked up at him. "I'm very sure."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. "It's not too late to change your mind."

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to reconsider," she said, staring at his mouth. He kicked the door closed and crushed his lips against hers in a kiss that made his head spin. She wanted this as much as he. He groaned and walked her backward until she hit the wall. He nuzzled her neck, feeling his need growing in intensity with every second.

***

Asia fell asleep with Nate's arms around her.

Hours later, she awoke in the same position. She yawned and stretched, then relaxed beside him like a languid kitten. If anyone were to ask, she would describe how she felt with one word: Euphoric. She had never experienced such bliss. Sex had always been great with Nate, but nothing like what just happened.

Sated and close to bursting with happiness, she rested her head against his chest, one hand lazily caressing his abdomen. If her energy weren't spent, she'd run to the center of town and shout her glee from Maple Square. They'd reunited. She smiled, thinking how her about-face had surprised him. How could she tell him that her heart had yearned for their reconciliation all these years? She'd only needed the proper encouragement.

Tonight, at The Haunted House, she'd experienced that inspiration.

Nate had never given up. If he had, she might have missed out on the greatest love of her life.

Eighteen years of telling herself she was better off without him was a lie. As was all those times she'd told herself her current lover was a better kisser than Nate. No one was better at kissing then Nate. No one. What lies she told herself to manipulate her broken heart.

Nate woke and squeezed her tighter against him. "Are we okay?"

His voice sounded tentative and shy and she could feel him holding his breath. If she responded negatively, he would never survive the rejection. From the moment his lips touched hers for the first time tonight, he'd shown her the depth of his love and how much he'd missed her and how he regretted his distrust. Her love meant everything to him and he would never doubt her love for him again. She knew that as surely as she knew her name.

"We're just fine, Nate," she said, feeling the air of his released breath brush past her ear. "Just fine." She meant that with everything she was. Many times she'd told her mother she'd forgiven Nate, but she hadn't, not fully. Trust, like respect, had to be earned. When Nate took the word of someone over hers, he'd not only disappointed her but wounded her deeply. That wound had never healed. Until now. She was whole again. It wasn't anything he'd said or done that had changed her mind. The time had come. Situations were clearer in hindsight, but looking back, she should have given them another chance, given him time to regain her confidence.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Anything."

"Why didn't you ever hear me out?"

Tonight they would not only share their love but their total honesty and that question was easy to answer.