The Lives Between Us (12 page)

“Does your head hurt?” Skye asked.

“Not much. My blood pressure’s not too high, but lying on my side, in the dark, for hours on end is going to get old fast.”

Skye pushed back in her seat and crossed her legs. “Can’t you watch TV?”

“There’s not much worth watching.”

“What about a roommate? Don’t you have somebody to talk to?”

“She was discharged earlier today, and they’re not putting anybody else in with me because they don’t want to
over-stimulate
me.”

Skye raised her eyebrows, surprised. Sarcasm wasn’t Faith’s thing; she must really be put out. Cheering her sister up was clearly going to be a challenge.

“How’s work?” Faith asked.

“The dear Darlene column is driving me insane. I just don’t have the patience for it.” She rolled her eyes. “I want to shout at these people and tell them to get a life—or a backbone. Like if prince charming is doing the down and dirty with someone else, drop him. Or if your fiancé can’t cleave from his mommy and move on to her, then drop him. I mean, no guy is worth that heartache. What’s not to get?”

Skye was happy to see Faith’s slight smile. “Well, honey. Some women actually get very emotionally attached to these men and have a lot of trouble getting over the hurt and betrayal,” Faith said with a neutral expression on her face, but Skye heard the criticism in her comment. Faith thought her insensitive.

She wasn't insensitive, just practical. “So? I get attached, but that doesn’t mean you let a guy abuse you.”

“For some women who aren’t as strong as you, it’s not that easy. For instance, if he’s the sole breadwinner and she has no money of her own, nor means to make any, it’s not that easy to walk away. Or if there are children involved—children who are very attached to the loser husband.”

“If they have kids, all the more reason to kick him out,” Skye declared. “What’s the matter with these women? They complain, yet refuse to help themselves. What are they waiting for? Another guy to ride in on his white horse and whisk them away?”

Faith sighed. “Maybe this column isn’t right for you.”

“
Right
?” Skye raised her eyebrows in agreement. “Thank you. Finally, someone who understands. I’d be much better at investigating identity theft, or school bullying, or drugs in schools, or a way to end political campaign donations.”

She pointed at Faith.

“Now
that’s
a real problem. The amount of money companies and people ‘donate’ toward politicians is absolutely obscene. We could wipe out the national debt in a decade with the hundreds of millions those idiots throw away on politicians every year. I’m wasted on pop psychology stuff like this. No wonder Dear Darlene needed a vacation,” she grumbled, ruffling her hair in irritation.

Faith reached for a Styrofoam container on her bedside tray. Skye jumped up and glided the tray within her reach. After taking a long sip, Faith put the drink on the tray and readjusted her sheets. “Maybe your straightforward advice is what they need?”

“Maybe. But do you have
any
idea how
hard
it is to be nice to these people?” Skye decided to play up her woes in an effort to amuse her sister. Though, she really didn’t have to exaggerate all that much. She paced to the foot of Faith’s bed.

“Coming up with tactful, helpful,
printable
advice is about killing me.” She spun and returned to the head of the bed. “I first have to type about a page of ranting telling them what I really think of them, before I take four hours to compose a couple of paragraphs that might actually be helpful without offending anybody.”

Faith grinned. “I’m sure being that nice for the past couple of weeks has really taxed your patience.”

Skye fell back in her seat, soothed by her sister’s sympathy—even if she did note her teasing tone. “It has.”

Boy it was hot in here. Skye’s feet were burning up. She leaned over to unlace her boots and slip them off. She tucked one foot under her and crossed the other over her knee. Perhaps not really hygienic, but infinitely more comfortable.

Faith looked from Skye’s boots to her winter coat to her scarf. “How come you’re so bundled up?”

“I was at a hockey game.”

“A what?”

“Hockey game.”

Faith raised her eyebrows. “At a rink? Cold place, pucks flying... Fights?”

“Yeah, this guy I’ve been seeing took me to see his godson’s hockey game.” Technically this was just a second date, but it felt like they’d known each other longer.

Faith perked up and rolled over. “You’ve been seeing someone? Who? How’d you meet?”

“His name’s Mark Dutton. He chased off some guy who was hitting on me in a bar and then bought me dinner.”

“How sweet.”

“He is, actually,” Skye agreed, surprised to really mean it. “As soon as Peter called, Mark drove me over here.”

Faith looked at the door. “He’s here? You kept him waiting all this time while we’ve been gabbing?”

“He doesn’t mind.”

“Really?” Faith sat up and adjusted her gown. “This I’ve got to see. Go get him.”

“What? Are you sure?” Skye stalled. Faith, who ironed her jeans and never left the house without makeup on and now lay in bed with a belly the size of a wrecking ball with tangled hair and no makeup, wanted to meet her date? She must be desperate for a diversion. “You’re all right with a stranger seeing you in a hospital gown?”

“Are you kidding? It’s been so long since you’ve brought a date home to meet the family I was beginning to think you were ashamed of us.”

With good reason
. “All right, but then we’ll go and let you rest.”

Skye considered putting her boots back on, then decided against it since the hallway was carpeted. She went to the door and paused in the doorway, giving her eyes time to adjust to the hall’s bright lights.

Heading for the waiting area, Skye found a young blond nurse sitting on the couch next to Mark. She laughed and coyly put a hand on his arm to make a point. Another attractive nurse stood talking to them. Both women were clearly engrossed in their flirtation with Mark and ignored the bleeping phone at the nurses’ station twenty feet away.

When Skye approached, the blond looked up, her impatience with the interruption evident in her clipped tone. “Do you need something?”

“Nope.”
Snippy wench
. Skye looked at Mark. “My sister wants to meet you, darling.”

Mark’s full attention turned to her, and the intimate way he smiled as if he’d missed her the short time they’d been apart, erased her annoyance and flare of jealousy.

“I’d love to meet her.” Mark picked up his jacket and said goodbye to the nurses, who drifted back to the nurses’ station. Waves of their envy buffeted her all the way to Faith’s room.

Skye pulled Mark aside and moved close before lowering her voice to just above a whisper. “Um... Faith doesn’t know how long we’ve been dating, and I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

Mark’s curious look made her squirm. “Why? You ashamed of me?”

“Not you, per se. It’s just that I’m not sure how she’d feel about what you do. It’s...um... Faith’s Niki’s mom. And she’s pregnant—her hormones are all out of whack. I'm not sure how she’d react—” Skye twisted her fingers and rubbed her thumb across her palm before trying again. “If I was Faith, you would be a reminder of my ‘failure’ to find the stem cells to save my daughter’s life. Your presence would be like rubbing salt in a fresh wound.”

“So what am I supposed to say if she asks what I do?”

Lie
. “You work in the family business. You run a research company.”

“And when are you going to tell her the truth?”

That assumed that they’d be together a while. Maybe Skye wasn’t just a conquest to Mark. “After she gets to know you better. After Niki’s death isn’t quite so fresh. Maybe after the twins are born and everybody’s happy and healthy.”

Mark looked her in the eye. “I don’t lie.”

“It’s not lying—it’s... Evasion.” Skye brightened. “Besides, you
do
run the family business which involves research.”

He sighed and looked away.

“Please?”

“I don’t like it.” Though Mark frowned, he acquiesced. He’d do it—for her.

Skye raised up on tip toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Mark knocked on the door and followed Skye in. Faith sat in bed like a beaming pregnant princess. She must have found a brush because her hair gleamed shiny gold, and pale pink lipstick covered her lips. All Faith needed was a tiara.

Skye introduced them, and Mark shook Faith’s hand. “Sorry to hear you’re ill.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Skye. “Stop looking so nervous and worried. The hydrolizine will control my blood pressure, and if it doesn’t, they’ll start me on magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures. It’ll be fine.”

Faith didn’t look fine. She looked tired and pale.

“Sit. Please.” Faith smiled. “So, Mark. How long have you known my sister?”

Skye sat in a chair and folded her legs under her. Mark pulled a chair from the empty half of the room and placed it next to Skye’s. He sat and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Uh... It seems like I’ve known her forever.”

Skye beamed at him, her mind frantically thinking of something to distract Faith. “Mark invited me to a black tie fundraiser his company’s sponsoring,” she blurted out. “Where should I go for a gown?”

Mark gave her an “is that so?” look. Skye flashed him an overly bright smile. She knew he’d be pleased.

“A formal? How fun,” Faith crowed. “Try Macy’s. They have some lovely gowns—or go to Sumerset Mall.” She sighed. “I’d love to go shopping with you.”

“You’re crazy.
I
don’t even want to go shopping. I hate trying on all those dresses.” She sent Mark a contrite smile. “No offense—I hate shopping in general.”

“None taken. You have my complete sympathy.”

“Well, not mine,” Faith said. “It’s fun. And don’t forget to make an appointment to have your hair and nails done.”

Skye scowled at her, pretending to be annoyed, when in reality she did enjoy the pampering of a manicure and having her hair done. Metal carts rattled in the hall, and they heard the clanking of dinner trays. “Sounds like dinner’s here. We’ll get going and let you get some rest.”

Skye pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek, promising to visit tomorrow, and practically dragged Mark from the room.

* * *

Whistling an upbeat tune, Mark walked briskly down the sidewalk from Skye’s apartment to his car. Despite the tumultuous first half of their date, he’d had a great time. And that goodnight kiss. Shaking his head, Mark unlocked his car and opened the door. He rested one arm on the Audi’s cold roof while looking up at the illuminated windows of her apartment. Damn, that kiss nearly melted every last brain cell. And he wanted more—much more.

The slim shadow moved across the apartment, and lights went off in one room and on in another. Skye walked in front of the window and reached for the cord to close the blinds. Mark ducked inside the car and headed home. The last thing he wanted to do was get caught mooning outside her apartment like a love-struck sap.

Skye was smart and funny, fierce and protective, and passionate… He shook his head. Man, Skylar Kendall had passion in spades. Combustible was what she was. She’d light a man on fire, and he couldn’t wait to burn. Mark turned into his driveway.

He walked into the house and threw his keys on the counter. He just wasn’t eager to be on the receiving end of the dark side of that passionate, white-hot fury that’d painfully incinerate a man. When she found out about Ed, she was going to be mad—furious.

He’d intended to tell her after their first date, but he’d been enjoying himself too much. Then after her confession about her niece, Mark knew he had to tell her immediately. But she’d gotten that phone call, and she’d been so worried about her sister, it would’ve been insensitive to upset her further.

It wasn’t like he’s really lying. They just hadn’t gotten to a point where total transparency was necessary yet. They’d only had two dates…two incredible dates he’d wanted to never end. Just being with her made him happy. He’d have to tell her soon—before that damned banquet.

Mark pulled his coat off and threw it over a chair. He’d shocked himself with that invitation to the fundraiser. He hadn’t been thinking—at least not with the right head. He’d wanted to see her again, and at the time it’d seemed like the perfect excuse, but he’d forgotten Ed would be there.

Mark went to the refrigerator, pulled out a water bottle, and gulped the remainder of the cold water. He tossed the empty Nalgene in the sink. Turning his back to the counter, he leaned against it.

Things with Skye were great. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Why risk messing it up by introducing her to friends and family? Family and friends always equaled complications. He wanted to hide her away and lock out the world for as long as possible.

Keep it simple. Easy. Fun. And real. Cementing their relationship before stressing it seemed a solid game plan. Smart.

They had a promising foundation. He just needed a little more time. A few more dates to impress Skye and make her realize how good they were together. To peel away her layers and make her as crazy about him as he was her.

Ten days was not a lot of time to create a bombproof relationship. But it
could
be enough.

* * *

Putting the last glass in the dishwasher, Skye started it. She dried her hands, then headed back to her desk. Break time over. After spending several hours after work researching and coming up empty, Skye’d opted for a later dinner, praying a little food would change her luck. A lot to ask of scrambled eggs and sausage, but she was hopeful.

Skye sighed and rested her chin on her fisted hand as she opened page twenty-three of the Google search on Assistant District Attorney Edward Hastings. She scanned the first few entries, then her gaze froze on the third.

“Hastings Love Child: ADA Questioned in Babysitter’s Disappearance.” At last, something juicy—if it’s true. Even if it wasn’t true, it’s more interesting than most of what was written about Saint Edward. Skye clicked on the link and leaned forward.