Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (15 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Emily wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around
Mark and shed the happy tears that were making it difficult to see.

This man loved her. Loved her so much that he was willing to
take a chance with his heart and that of his son’s.

On her
.

She’d dreamed of a moment like this for more than half her
life. Yet now that it was here, she knew it couldn’t be. Not for her,
anyway.

To let Mark and his son love her would be unfair.

Slipping her left hand from his, she wiped a finger beneath her
eyes, dislodging all tears. “I appreciate what it must have taken for you to
come here and say these things to me. And I’m touched. I truly am. But I don’t
want a relationship, with you or anyone else.”

He pulled her hand from her face and held it tightly, scooting
closer as he did. “Look, I know I was a jerk, Emily. But I was wrong. I know
that.”

“Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. But as for you and me, it’s
not going to happen.” She hated how cruel she sounded, but it needed to be
said.

This time, when she pulled her hands away, he let them go, the
bewilderment in his face impossible to miss. “Emily. I don’t get this. I’m
telling you I love you. I want you to be a part of Seth’s and my future.”

She drew back. “Your future?”

“Of course. What do you think I’ve been trying to say?”

Silence fell between them as she let his words sink in, their
meaning, their sincerity making her wish things were different. That
she
was different. But she wasn’t.

She pushed herself off the couch and wandered over to the
fireplace, where the countless photographs lined the mantel. There was the
picture of her and Kate on a river in Tennessee, the look of horror on her
friend’s face as they paddled through rapids a stark contrast to the grin on
Emily’s face. There was the photograph she’d taken while rappelling down a rock
wall in Montana. And the gag one Kate had framed of Emily’s hair after a week of
survival camping in the Colorado Rockies.

Each picture represented a milestone along her path to
fulfilling some of her biggest dreams. No, there weren’t any wedding poses or
cute babies smiling out from any of the frames, but that was okay. In just over
thirty years, she’d accomplished more of her dreams than most people did in a
lifetime.

“You’re in need of a few new pictures, don’t you think?”

She spun around to find Mark standing not more than a foot
away. “Excuse me?”

“You missed a picture in your office and, because of that,
you’re missing a few here.” He motioned toward the photographs in front of them
and smiled. “Fortunately for you, I have one of them with me.”

Unsure of what he was talking about, she followed him over to
the packet she’d set on the coffee table, and watched as he opened the back
flap, withdrawing an all-too-familiar, golden-hued paper.

Emily lifted her hands. “How did you get that?”

Holding the whimsically illustrated page next to his face, he
flashed his best knee-weakening smile. “Notice the hair?” He pointed from the
prince’s head to his own. “Do you see the color?”

“It’s Milk Chocolate,” she whispered.

“Uh-huh…” He pointed to his own hair once again, before drawing
her attention back to the picture. “And the eyes? What were those? Royal
something or other?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “Ocean Wave Blue.”

“Ocean Wave Blue, eh?” He smirked. “Uh-huh. Got those, too,
don’t I? And if you use just a little imagination, you’ll see that my muscles
aren’t so far off, either.” He hooked an arm upward and flexed his biceps,
eliciting a laugh from her.

When her laughter began to fade, he grabbed her hand once
again. “I can be this guy, Emily. I can be your prince. I just happen to have a
second, and far cuter, prince in tow. That’s the only difference.”

Oh, how she wished that were true.

Wriggling her hand free of his, she took the drawing and turned
it so he could see the whole picture. “But that’s not the only difference, Mark.
Not by a long shot.”

“Then help me see what I’m missing,” he pleaded.

She smacked her free hand against the other figure depicted
there. “
She’s
different!”

“Not really.” He stepped forward and, reaching out, captured a
piece of Emily’s hair between his fingers. “Same blond locks, just a little
shorter.” He released it and brushed the back of his hand down the side of her
face. “Eyes are just as big and brown as ever. Though you left off one of my
favorite parts when you opted not to draw in your freckles.”

She closed her eyes against a burning that had nothing to do
with happiness and everything to do with the fact that her heart was breaking
over the one dream she knew she couldn’t have, no matter how desperately she
wished otherwise. When she opened them again, she saw the face of a man who’d
spent the past thirty minutes being honest about his feelings. The least she
could do was do the same.

“I’m not talking about the stuff you can see. I’m talking about
the stuff you can’t.”

“Like what? Because I can’t see your spirit in this drawing,
but it’s plain as the nose on my face. And I can’t see inside your heart in
this, either, but I saw it when you made Seth feel special on the beach, and at
the pizza parlor later that same night. And I
felt
it when we were together at Kate’s barbecue, and when we held each other after
we’d made love.”

“Stop!” she shouted. “I’m not talking about that kind of stuff.
I’m talking about being a burden.”

He held up his palms. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. A burden? A burden to
whom?”

“To you, to Seth, to anyone who signs on to spend their life
with me.” She allowed herself one more glance at the drawing she’d been so proud
of twenty years earlier, and then tossed it into the hearth, to be burned on the
first cool night. “I may not die from this disease, but I might very well be in
a wheelchair or wasting away on a couch, making you feel as if you can’t enjoy
your life or Seth’s because you’re stuck at home taking care of me. And then
what kind of life will you have? What kind of life will Seth have?”

“Emily, hold on a minute. Wasn’t it you who said you might live
out the rest of your days as if nothing was wrong with you?”

“Might is the key word, Mark.
Might
. That’s not enough of an assurance for me.”

“And if the worst case happens, I’ll take care of you. I’ll
carry you to the car so we can go for a drive. I’ll carry you up the side of a
mountain so we can have a picnic with a view. I’ll carry you to bed so I can
make love to you and then hold you all night. And I’ll do all of those things
because I
want
to.”

“Carry me?” she spit. “
Carry
me?
Oh, no…” She crossed the living room with quick, even strides and stopped just
shy of the front door. “A very wise man recently told me something that will
stay with me forever. He said we come into this life alone, and we’ll leave it
that way, too. So living it that way from point A to point B really isn’t such
an
awful
thing.”

“Awful? Maybe not. But
sad?
You bet
it is.”

She felt the sting in her eyes and knew it wouldn’t be long
before tears made it past her lashes. “He’s not sad. He’s determined. Like
me.”

“Maybe he is. And if he is, then good for him. But being
determined and allowing yourself to love and be loved aren’t mutually exclusive
things, Emily. Sure, you made all those pictures on your office wall come true
on your own. That’s awesome. But is there any reason those same dreams couldn’t
have come true with a supportive partner by your side? I don’t think so. And if
that supportive partner can step in and make things a little easier along the
way, is that so wrong?”

“Maybe I
want
to do it by
myself.”

“Do you?” Mark pressed. “Do you really? Because I don’t think
you do—”

She opened the door and stepped to the side to indicate her
desire for him to leave. “I won’t push this disease off on anyone else. It’s
mine to live with, not yours.”

After several long moments, Mark joined her by the door, the
determination in his eyes taking her breath away. “Love isn’t a burden, Emily.
It’s a journey. Through good times and bad. And I for one would rather have five
minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.”

She brought her hand to her mouth in an effort to stifle the
sobs that were building. “I never wanted to be carried through life. I wanted to
be the perfect wife, the perfect mother.”

“And being in a wheelchair negates that?”

“When your child wants to play with blocks and you have to
watch from five feet away, yes. When you want to make your husband his favorite
dinner, but can’t because the ingredients you need are too high for you to reach
from a seated position, yes. When you can’t walk your child to the bus stop,
hand in hand, on his first day of school, yes.”

“Emily, it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“The fact that it might be is enough for me.” She tried to
resist when Mark pulled her close, but she couldn’t. More than anything she
wanted to savor the feel of his arms one more time, to find whatever comfort she
could in knowing that her dream could have come true.

All too soon, though, he stepped back, his hand reaching for
hers in the process. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

* * *

H
E
HELD
HER
HAND
all the way to the front door, a wave of second
thoughts accompanying him. While there was a part of him that liked the idea of
Seth being present when Mark asked Emily to marry him, there was another part
that was just plain scared. Scared she wouldn’t see things the way he saw
them.

“You can open your eyes now,” he prompted. “Just don’t look
around too much out here, okay?”

“Don’t look around too much?”

“Humor me.” He wasn’t entirely sure she would remember the
house, considering the heightened stress level they’d been under when they’d
pulled up the driveway the first time. But he didn’t want to take any chances.
Her focus was needed inside.

“Where are we?” she asked as he gave a quick knock and opened
the door for her to enter.

“You’ll see.” He knew he was being cryptic, but he wanted her
to see reality with her own two eyes. With any luck, it would have more impact
than any picture he could try to paint with his words.

Step by step, he led her down the main hallway, his slow,
careful gait designed to give her time to soak up the various degrees and awards
that were displayed on the walls.

“Rose Reynolds?” Emily read as they passed. “Who is that?”

The sound of his son’s happy chatter saved Mark from having to
verbalize an answer. “Do I hear my little man?” he called.

“I’m in here, Daddy. With Gam.”

Emily tugged him to a stop. “You brought me to your mother’s
house?” she whispered. “Mark, what on earth are you doing?”

His only response was to guide her the rest of the way down the
hall and into the hearth room. When they rounded the corner, he released her
hand and stopped beside the card table he’d erected before leaving for Kate’s
that afternoon. “Mom? I brought someone special I’d like you to meet.”

Rose Reynolds craned her neck around in greeting, but it was
Seth’s voice that dominated the room. “Emily! Emily! You’re here!” Jumping down
from his chair beside his grandmother, he ran to Emily and wrapped his arms
around her legs. “Gam and I are building a castle with my blocks. You wanna
see?”

“Uh, sure, sweetheart. I’d love to see it.” Without glancing in
Mark’s direction, Emily followed Seth around the table, stopping beside Mark’s
mother and extending her hand. “Hi. I’m Emily Todd. I’m a friend of—”

His mom’s eyes twinkled in the reflection of the overhead
light. “I’m Rose and I know who you are. My grandson has talked nonstop about
you since the other night at the beach.”

At the first hint of a blush on Emily’s face, the woman
laughed. “In fact, this room right here—” she pointed toward the elaborate block
castle’s second story “—is yours.”

“Mine?” Emily repeated.

“Yupper doodles,” Seth exclaimed. “It’s big enough for you
and
Daddy!”

The corner of Rose’s mouth twitched just before a sly smile
broke out across her gently lined face. “Emily, would you like something to
drink? I have wine, lemonade, water, tea....”

At Emily’s questioning glance, Mark nodded.

“I’d love a glass of water if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

Seth’s finger shot up into the air. “I’ll be right back, Emily.
Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Then, in a flash, he was around the table and climbing
up onto his grandmother’s lap as she wheeled herself from the table and into the
kitchen.

Mark watched as his mother transported his son across the
kitchen and then went about the task of filling Emily’s drink order. After a
moment, he looked back at Emily.

“Your mom…she’s in a wh-wheelchair,” Emily stammered.

“Yup.” He pointed toward the card table between them. “Doesn’t
stop her from building a castle with her grandson, now, does it?”

When Emily said nothing, he nodded toward the kitchen. “And
Seth? He’s just as happy to ride around the house on his grandmother’s lap as he
would be to walk by her side. It’s his grandma and that’s all that matters.”

When Emily finally spoke, her voice was quiet and unsure. “But
what about when he gets too big to ride in her lap?”

“He’ll push her…just like I did.”

Emily’s lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “She was in that
when you were a kid?”

“She’s been in it since
she
was a
kid. Mom lost her leg in a fire. She’s got an artificial one, but that’s mostly
for vanity, as she’s fond of saying. Which means—” he looked closely at Emily
“—she was in it when she married my dad.”