The Best Bride (26 page)

As he held her close and she listened to the pounding of his heart, she at last gave in to the tears. She believed he loved her. Knowing that truth, she would still leave him. The tears fell silently in mourning for all she had lost.

* * *

Travis turned left onto his street and did his best not to speed. He'd left the station early, even though Kyle had been giving him trouble most of the day. His brother knew him too well not to notice his sudden lack of concentration. Thank God nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day in Glenwood. Of course any kind of serious crime was
pretty unusual in the small community. Even so, Kyle had been on him from early that morning, making comments about his big brother being at the mercy of a woman. Travis had taken the teasing good-naturedly for two reasons. First, because there had been a note of envy in his brother's voice, and secondly because it was true.

He hadn't been able to think about anything but his night of making love with Elizabeth. After they'd gathered themselves together yesterday afternoon, they'd left her place to pick up Mandy, then had spent the evening together. He grinned as he pulled into the driveway. Elizabeth's car was gone, but he wasn't concerned. She'd taken it to work that morning. As she'd lain in his bed with him that morning, watching the sunrise, she'd said she felt better than she had in days. He knew the feeling. Being with her, holding her, telling her he loved her, had changed him, as well.

It had been a night without sleep, but he didn't care. The promises her body had whispered had been enough for him.

He stopped in front of the house and got out of the car. After reaching in the back seat, he pulled out the bottle of chilled champagne he'd picked up on his way home, and a bouquet of lilies and exotic orchids. He was bearing more than gifts. In his back pocket was a list of arguments to convince Elizabeth that they belonged together. He understood her concerns. Hell, he even shared some of them. They had both been burned in a big way. She with Sam, and him with his whole damn family. But that didn't mean they were destined to fail at love. It just meant they had to try a little harder to make it work. He took the porch stairs two at a time. The victory would be that much sweeter for their effort. She was right for him. She needed him, Mandy needed him. And more important, he needed
them.
But he only had tonight to convince her.

He opened the front door and stepped inside. The quiet
of the house was unsettling. He frowned and tried to figure out why. His brow cleared. He was used to coming home to Elizabeth and Mandy, but neither of them was there. Even Louise was off today.

He walked into the kitchen and stuck the champagne in the refrigerator. They would be back shortly. He would start talking to Elizabeth then. He had to convince her. If he didn't, she would leave him in the morning. He didn't doubt that he could eventually show her that they belonged together, but he knew it would be a lot easier when they were still living in the same house. If he had to, he would resort to guerilla tactics and seduce her.

He knew she cared about him. Last night her body had spoken the words for her. He'd told her over and over that he loved her and would never hurt her. She'd heard him. He liked to think she'd believed him. He shut the refrigerator door and leaned against it. He was in love.

He shut his eyes and smiled. Who would have thought it would happen to him? He'd given up hoping. All his brothers had. If he'd known what being in love was really like, he wouldn't have made the mistake of marrying Julie. He knew now that had been about pride and a desire to prove everyone wrong. Not the greatest basis for a marriage. This time he was getting involved for all the right reasons.

He laughed out loud for the sheer joy of it, then pushed away from the refrigerator. A piece of paper caught his eye. He turned to look and saw that Mandy had left him a new picture. He picked it up, staring at the three figures shown standing in front of a large white house. There was a brown blob in front of the three figures.

“It's us,” he said aloud, his throat suddenly thick with emotion. Mandy had drawn a family scene with him—he recognized his khaki uniform and Stetson—Elizabeth, and
Mandy herself. The brown blob was probably the puppy she wanted so much.

He put the picture back on the door, anchoring it with magnets. He would thank her when she got home. He started to walk out of the room, then paused. Slowly, very slowly, he turned back and stared at the sketch. It hadn't been there that morning. He would have noticed it. Which meant she'd done it that day at school. So Elizabeth had picked her up, brought her home and then…

And then what? And then she'd left? For where?

A cold feeling swept over him. Without thinking, he raced toward Elizabeth's room. The door was partway closed. He flung it open and stared at the perfectly made double bed. The dresser was clean, the end table bare of anything save a white envelope addressed to him. He didn't have to look at the signature to know who had written the note. He recognized Elizabeth's handwriting. There were no personal effects in the room, no half-packed suitcase, no nightgown hanging by the bathroom door. No smell of perfume or makeup.

He grabbed the note without reading it, then climbed the stairs and entered Mandy's room. His chest ached as if someone had wrapped a band around his ribs and was slowly tightening it. Her room was the same as Elizabeth's: clean and impersonal, as if no one of importance had ever lived there.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. He couldn't do anything except feel the pain. It surrounded him, filling every pore of his being until it darkened to black and he fought against drowning in the hopelessness. She was gone.

She'd left without giving him a chance to convince her to stay. She'd left after they'd made love throughout the night. She'd left after he'd told her how much he loved her.
None of that had mattered to her.
He
hadn't mattered to her.

When the honed edges of the razor-sharp emotion had faded to a mind-numbing ache, he opened the envelope. Several fifty-dollar bills floated to the floor. He held the single sheet of paper and read it.

Thanks for your warm hospitality, Travis. I don't know what we would have done without you. I hope you understand that I think it's time for Mandy and me to make our own home. We were both becoming too attached to you.

It wouldn't work, you know. No matter how much we wanted it to. I wish it could have been different. I wish
I
could have been different. But it wasn't meant to be. I hope you find someone as wonderful as you deserve, and that we can still be friends. I need a friend like you in my life, but I'll understand if that's asking too much.

He stared at the words, studying the shape of her letters and the way her signature scrawled across the page. He thought about the champagne and the flowers, the list of arguments and how he'd assumed loving her would be enough. He crumpled the note and let it fall to the ground, then walked down the stairs and out into the coming night.

“H
ow drunk are you going to get?” Rebecca asked as she stretched across the leather couch in Travis's family room.

Travis stared at the half-empty glass in his hand, then glanced at the bottle sitting on the coffee table. There were about three more inches of Scotch waiting for him. Through his slightly drunken fog, he wondered how much longer it was going to take for the alcohol to allow him to forget. The liquor was dulling his senses enough for him to breathe without feeling that his chest was going to cave in, but he could still sense the broken edges of his exposed heart. He could still remember everything. Damn Elizabeth Abbott and damn his own sorry hide for ever being stupid enough to care.

He drained the glass in his hand, then rose from the leather wing chair sitting at right angles to the sofa. It was exactly three steps to the coffee table. He kept the bottle
that far away deliberately. As soon as he wasn't able to navigate those three steps, he would know it was time to stop drinking.

“A lot more drunk,” he said carefully, conscious of the effort it took to form words correctly.

Rebecca stared at him. Her dark hair was held away from her face by a headband. Even though it was Saturday afternoon and most people were dressed in jeans and casual shirts, she wore a floral print jumper over a white silk short-sleeved shirt. He knew it was silk because she'd explained it to him once. He'd actually figured out the difference between it and cotton. That's how he'd known Elizabeth's skin had felt like silk against his body.

He stared at her white shirt and wondered if it would feel like Elizabeth's skin. Or would it feel differently because Rebecca wore it? Or if he was still sober enough to grab the Scotch bottle. Maybe if he asked politely, Rebecca would pour for him. He frowned. Judging from the way she was glaring at him, he didn't think she would be willing to cooperate.

As if she'd read his mind, she grabbed the bottle. He held out his glass hopefully. She shook her head and set the bottle on the far side of the couch. He sighed and sagged back in his chair. He didn't have a prayer of getting that far. Not with the buzz filling his head or the weakness in his legs. His coordination was shot. He just wished a benefit of his condition included a lapse in memory.

“I want to talk to you while you're still reasonably sober,” Rebecca said, settling down on the edge of the sofa closest to him.

“Terrific. Pour me another drink—then I'll listen.”

“I'm your friend, so no, I'm not going to pour you anything else. You're drunk enough. In the morning, you're going to wish you were never born.”

He set the glass on the floor next to him. “I already wish I hadn't been born. Nothing's going to change that.”

“Elizabeth needs time.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This isn't about you, Travis. This leaving. She needs some time to find her way. You've got to give her that.” She spoke slowly and patiently, as if dealing with a slowwitted child. He thought about protesting, but he didn't think he could get the words out. His tongue was getting thicker by the minute, and who had started spinning the room?

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. That was better. “Of course it's about me,” he said carefully. “I'm the one she left.”

“Fool.” She said the word affectionately. He thought about taking offense, but he didn't have the energy. “You're her knight in shining armor. Unfortunately, your timing couldn't have been worse.”

That comment was almost worth opening his eyes for—almost. “That's me. A knight. Show me the dragon. I'll slay it. Maybe it'll slay me instead. That would be better.”

“Travis.”

He held up his hand, then let it drop to his side. When had his arm gotten so heavy? “Sorry. Didn't mean to get maud…maud…” What was that word?

“Maudlin?” she offered.

“Yeah. That. So my timing stinks. Nah. It's not that. It's me. I tried. Not supposed to try. Forgot who I was.” He rubbed his hand over his face, then grimaced as he felt two days' worth of stubble. He hadn't shaved that morning. Hadn't done anything except drink more Scotch and try to forget. He couldn't forget; he made a lousy drunk.

“You've got it all wrong,” Rebecca said, sounding slightly impatient.

“I know.” He risked opening his eyes. Rebecca was glaring at him. He closed his lids again to shut her out. “It was all pretty pointless from the beginning. Who was I trying to kid? She figured it out. That I couldn't do it. Not the right type. Who'd want me for her kid's father?”

“I would.”

Travis looked at her. “You're just saying that because I'm your friend and you have to be nice to me.” He got so caught up in being pleased that he'd completed such a long sentence that he almost forgot what they were talking about.

Rebecca stood up and moved over until she was standing in front of him, looking down. Fire flashed in her eyes. She planted her hands on her hips, her chest heaved. She wasn't built like Elizabeth. Rebecca's curves were subtle. He'd never cared one way or the other because he'd never really been attracted to her. It didn't mean anything. But he still admired her.

“You are so beautiful,” he said wistfully, wishing that staring at her got him aroused. He only had to think about Elizabeth and he was ready to make love, but Rebecca left him with a warm fuzzy feeling and zero passion. The great cosmic joke.

Rebecca drew in a deep breath, then let out a laugh and sank to the floor. She knelt between his legs and rested her hands on his thighs. “You need your butt kicked.”

“That's pretty harsh.” He raised his eyebrows, or thought he did. His face was getting numb.

“You're thinking about yourself, Travis, and none of this is about you at all. It's about Elizabeth. She's got the problem, not you. Finally you've figured out that you can make a relationship work. I think that's terrific. You're right, you do love her, and she left you.” Her big eyes grew sad as they met his own. “Find it in your heart to forgive her.
She's running because she's afraid. That's good. That means she cares back.”

He covered Rebecca's hands and squeezed tight. “If it's so good, why does it feel so bad?”

“Because she hurt you. But hang in there. Give her time to understand what she's given up. She'll come around. I promise.”

His face was completely numb, his tongue thick, his legs heavy beyond movement. None of it helped. He could still feel the sharp stabs of pain in his chest and gut.

“I told her I loved her,” he said, softly. He had to look away from his friend's compassionate gaze. “I promised her the world, and she left anyway.”

“Give her time.”

“Why? Nothing will change.” He forced his thick lips into a smile. “I can't blame her for leaving me. Look at what Sam did to her. Look at who I am. There's no way she's going to get past my reputation. I'm the last man on earth she'd ever want. That's why I'm drinking, Rebecca. So I can forget the truth.”