The Confession (29 page)

Rising from the bed, he held the baby blanket to his chest. He needed to get to Emily. He had to tell her what a horrible thing he’d done and beg for her forgiveness.

As he reached the door, something caught his eye and he walked over to the dining room table. A brightly wrapped gift sat unopened at the edge of the table. Reading the tag, he knew exactly what was beneath the wrapping. It was addressed to Emily, from Mark. His hands shook as he ripped away the paper.

The cover she’d drawn captured his story perfectly. Emily’s likeness was incredible, as was Nathan’s. She’d drawn them gazing lovingly at each other, Emily standing on a balcony, in a white dress exactly as he’d pictured it when he’d tried to describe it in words. She was holding out her hand for the pink rose being offered to her by Nathan, kneeling on one knee, dressed as a heroic knight. She’d drawn the moon as a giant circle illuminating the scene in the perfect shades of blue and gray, not detracting from the bright pink of the rose bushes in the background.

It was exactly what he’d wanted, and more than he’d expected. It was printed and bound in a genuine hard cover. When he’d brought it to her, it had been untitled. Now, written across the top, it read:
The One
. He ran his hands gently over the story he’d written and she’d improved. The symbolism was impossible to ignore.

Mark’s entire body shook as he lingered outside the door to Emily’s room. He could see his mother asleep in the chair beside the bed, still holding tightly to Emily’s hand. His heart raced as he anticipated her reaction to what he was about to tell her.

He’d debated the entire drive over as to whether he should be the one to tell Emily, or if Aimee should do it. Remembering the way he’d treated her, he was certain she was back in New York by now, and he wasn’t sure she would agree to come back with him. Not that he could blame her.

Looking up, he saw his mother eyeing him curiously as he stood outside the door. Waving her hand for him to come in, he took a deep breath and swung open the door. She frowned at him, looking him up and down.

“I thought you were going to shower.” She posed it more as a statement than a question.

“I didn’t have time. I needed to talk to Emily right away.” He stepped over to the side of the bed, clinging tightly to the baby blanket he held against his chest.

“Mark, are you okay?” McKenzie scooted forward in her chair. “You really need to get some rest. Emily is going to be just fine, you don’t have to worry.”

“It isn’t that.” He bit his tongue, hoping the pain would hold back the tears.

McKenzie rose from the chair and came around the bed. “What’s going on? What’s happened?” she asked with obvious concern.

They were both startled when Emily spoke. “Mark?”

He bent down and kissed her cheek. She reached out her hand to keep his face close to hers. Her eyes darted back and forth, her expression wary as she studied him.

“What is it?” Her eyes were insistent. “Something’s up.”

Resting his hip on the corner of her bed, he lowered his head, searching for the words.

Emily’s voice was weak, but there was no question she was serious. “Spill it, Mark. I’m in no mood to be coddled. Are you ill? Is it Mimsey?” He could sense her growing agitated.

Before he could think of the right way to tell her, he blurted, “It’s Aimee. She’s — ”

“Is she hurt? What happened?” Emily’s face revealed the love she felt for Aimee, even after everything he’d accused her of.

He stroked her hand, and gently laid the baby blanket across her lap. He reached into his jacket pocket and slowly pulled out the tiny hospital bracelet and laid it on top.

He watched as her eyes registered shock, then disbelief, and finally a look of complete joy. She slowly lifted the bracelet and stroked it lovingly, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She didn’t speak. She unfolded the blanket, caressing the hand sewn ladybugs, seeming to be transported back in time.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with hope. She swallowed and tried to speak, her voice emitting a croak, before she swallowed and tried again. Clearing her throat, she finally murmured, “Amelia?”

Mark nodded his head as the tears he’d been fighting finally broke through and ran unchecked down his face. “I think Aimee is your daughter.”

Pulling the blanket to her face, Emily quietly sobbed. McKenzie sat on the other side of the bed and pulled her into her arms as she cried with her.

“I knew it.” McKenzie beamed. “I knew it was her.”

“You did?” Emily’s eyes were filled with questions. “How? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure. There were so many similarities, and she seemed so filled with longing when she was around you.” McKenzie took a deep breath. “I didn’t understand how strongly I suspected it until your accident. When my first instinct was to call Aimee and ask her blood type, I realized I wasn’t surprised it was the same as yours. I know it sounds strange, but I simply felt it.”

“How come I didn’t? I should have known. A mother should recognize her own child, right?” Emily began to sob.

“How could you? You’d go crazy looking for signs in every young girl you met.” McKenzie grabbed her hand. “You loved her. You had a connection with her. Deep down, maybe you sensed it, but after all this time, you can’t think you’re wrong for not jumping to the impossible conclusion.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mark finally said, pushing off the bed. Unable to hold still, he paced back and forth. “I made her leave. I was horrible to her. I didn’t know … ”

Emily reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him midstride. Looking down at her tear stained face he knew he’d never seen a woman happier then Emily at that moment. She seemed to glow from the inside out.

Tugging his arm, she forced him to sit back down, never taking her eyes from him. He couldn’t look away. She tried to speak, but seeming unable to control the emotions that erupted from her she began to laugh instead. Mark watched her curiously as she leaned back against the pillows crying and laughing simultaneously.

Suddenly growing serious, she struggled to sit upright. “What are you still doing here?”

Confused, Mark stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “You want me to leave?”

“Yes, I want you to leave. Go get my daughter and bring her home to me.”

Aimee pulled the covers over her head and grumbled at Luther to go away. She didn’t want to get out of bed. She didn’t want to go to work. She definitely didn’t want to hear Luther’s chipper voice as he tried to coerce her into resuming her normal routine. She simply wanted to lie beneath the covers and try to pretend the last few months never happened.

She missed Mark. She’d rolled over and subconsciously reached for him as she slowly awakened. It’d taken her a minute to remember she was back in her loft in New York, not her quaint cottage in sunny San Francisco.

She wanted to have breakfast with Emily and talk about nothing, and everything. She wanted to listen to Mimsey humming as she fluttered around the kitchen, and hear McKenzie’s quiet laugh as she whispered to her mystery man on the other end of the phone. She wanted to watch the sun setting with Mark’s hand in hers.

Burying her head in the pillow, she wept. She didn’t think she had any tears left after the hours she’d spent crying last night. Luther insisted on staying with her after they’d arrived home. Not having the strength to argue with him she’d handed him a pillow and blanket before closing herself in her room.

Luther sat on the edge of her bed. “Come on, Aimee. You can’t stay in bed forever.”

She dug her face deeper into the pillows.

Pulling back the covers, he tried again. “Let’s go get some coffee and a bagel with a ton of cream cheese. We’ll walk to work and breathe in the smog. It’ll make you feel better.”

Sitting up, she wiped her hair out of her eyes and glared at him. “I know I can’t stay here forever, but is one day too much to ask for?”

Undeterred, he grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet. “Yes, it is. You won’t be happy with only one day. You need to get back to it or you will wallow for weeks.” He pushed her gently in the direction of the small bathroom. “You look like hell. I saved you some hot water. You can thank me later.”

“I hate you,” she mumbled before slamming the door in his face.

Forty-five minutes later, she stood on the sidewalk sipping her latte. She’d done all she could with her swollen eyes, but her heartbreak was evident. Luther continued to try and cheer her up, chatting non-stop beside her, gently leading her through the crowds.

“Listen to those horns, those cursing pedestrians, and the sirens. Can’t you feel the energy? Man, it’s good to be home.” He grabbed her arm to keep her moving forward.

At one time she’d loved the noise, the energy, the endless pace. Today the horns were startling, the cursing was rude, and the sirens made her wonder how Emily was recovering. For the first time since she’d moved to New York, she wanted to be anywhere else.

Her purse fell from her shoulder and her coffee sloshed through the lid as she was abruptly bumped from behind. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, tears filled her eyes as she watched the man continue to walk on without a backward glance.

“Hey, watch it, asshole!” Luther shouted at the man’s retreating back. “You okay?”

She nodded, wiped her eyes, pulled her purse back onto her shoulder and continued in the direction of her shop. Work would make her feel better. She could bury herself in her sketches, check on the new line. Do what she did best. Luther was right, she needed to keep living. After all, this was her life. The dreams she’d come so close to reaching weren’t real. She wouldn’t live the happily ever after fairy tale. It didn’t exist.

• • •

Mark stood on the sidewalk outside Amore’ Handbags and mentally tried to perfect his apology. This was what Luther meant. And when he’d called him a fool, it was for not believing in the woman he loved. He’d made such a mess of things. He cringed as he recalled the horrible things he’d said to her, the way he’d looked at her, the things he’d accused her of. What if she wouldn’t forgive him? His panic swelled as he imagined himself walking away from here without her.

He could see Luther behind the counter, ringing up a sale for a grey haired woman in a mink coat. He stretched his neck trying to see over the window display for any sign of Aimee. What if she hadn’t returned to New York? That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind before now.

He pulled his coat closed against the sudden chill and watched as the lady in the mink coat exited the store and climbed into the back seat of a nearby town car. He jumped when sudden movement caught his attention. Shocked, he looked up directly into the eyes of an angry Luther. He didn’t move, his hand stiffly clinging to the sign he’d been about to flip showing they were closed.

He lifted his hand in a hesitant wave. Luther’s eyes became slits. He looked over his shoulder, and then marched outside to confront him.

“If you’re here to continue your little tirade, you can forget it. She’s had enough and I won’t let you hurt her anymore.”

“I’m not,” Mark managed to say.

“So then you finally realized what a fool you’ve been?”

Mark nodded his head, his cheeks warming with the shame he felt.

“Have you practiced your groveling like I suggested?”

Unable to contain himself, Mark chuckled. “I don’t know what it is about you that I like — ”

Luther waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t waste your breath flattering me. You need to get your kneepads on. You hurt my girl. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain.”

Kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk, Mark kept his head down. “I know. I really screwed up.”

“She wasn’t after a damn thing. She only wanted to be sure before she said anything. It wasn’t a game to her. She isn’t a liar and she doesn’t have an ounce of maliciousness in her body.” Luther’s voice rose as his words flew out with excessive speed. “I may not agree with the way she handled it, but she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. And by you! How dare you. I don’t know if you’re good enough for her. I thought so at first, but now I’m not — ”

“I love her Luther, with all of my heart.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I’m not good enough for her, that much is true, but I want to be. I’m a better man with her, and I know I can’t live without her.”

“Okay, that’s a good start.” Luther smirked. “She’s in the back. Got your kneepads strapped on?”

Mark nodded his head, straightened his back and inhaled. Luther held the door for him to enter. Inside smelled like leather, and her. Colorful handbags sat on glass shelves and hung from scrolled racks, matching wallets sat on pedestals, and a few crystal and rhinestone belts laid across a display table.

This was her world. She’d created it with her own two hands. Mark felt himself swell with pride.

As if reading his mind, Luther looked around the room and said, “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing. Remember that.” He pointed to the doorway tucked in the corner and walked to the other end of the store.

Mark unbuttoned his coat, and walked slowly to the door. He stood back and watched her for a minute, as she sat at her desk, head down, and a pencil in her hand drawing on a pad. His breath hitched.

Her head lifted, and their eyes locked. He could see the surprise on her face, and sensed her hesitation. Wiping his shaking hands on his jeans, he took a few steps closer. He could feel his heart beating, even as it poured out to her through his eyes.

“Your mother wants us to come to dinner tomorrow night. She actually wanted you home tonight, but I told her I needed a bit more time to grovel for your forgiveness.”

Watching a faint smile move her lips and a single tear roll down her cheek, he saw his love reflected back in her eyes and knew he hadn’t lost her.

Aimee stood outside the large front door. She subconsciously wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her dress. Her stomach fluttered, her pulse raced, and her hands shook.

“I’ve walked through this door a thousand times.” She turned to Mark. “Why do I feel so nervous?”