With This Ring (21 page)

"I doubt it. They went to a party at the country club."

By now they'd walked over to the steps leading up to her apartment, and Amy started to say good-bye.

"I'll walk you up," he said.

"All right."

Moonlight silvered the yard, casting ghostly shadows over the winter-bare trees and lawn. The night air was cold, and Amy's breath puffed out in front of her. She could smell woodsmoke and hear firecrackers popping in the distance. The charcoal sky glittered with stars. Suddenly, she felt a deep yearning.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she turned. Although no words were spoken, Justin seemed to sense that something had changed. He reached out, and she let herself be drawn into his arms.

And when he kissed her, she kissed him back. It felt good to be in a man's arms again. And if the kiss didn't send her skyrocketing, it made her feel safe and warm and as close to happy as she'd been in a long, long time. As they slowly drew apart, she looked up, and he looked down.

They stood that way for perhaps five seconds, but it seemed longer to Amy. She could feel her heart beating, and something else—that yearning, deep inside.

Wordlessly, she took Justin's hand, and together, they walked inside.

Faith and Alan left the New Year's Eve party shortly before two, and five minutes later, they were home. The first thing Faith saw when they entered the driveway was Justin's Toyota.

She glanced up at Amy's apartment. It was dark.

"Look's like Justin's here," Alan remarked as he pulled the Cadillac into the garage.

"Yes."

Was Justin spending the night? Faith had harbored a secret hope that something might develop between him and Amy, ever since she'd realized Justin was in love with her daughter. From the looks of things, maybe her wish had come true.

She mentally crossed her fingers. If only this would work out. Justin was perfect for Amy, just the kind of man Faith had always hoped her daughter would choose. But most importantly, if Amy was involved with Justin, there would no longer be any need to worry that another Sam might come along.

As Alan unlocked the back door, Faith glanced up at the apartment again. She couldn't prevent a tiny, satisfied smile. If she got any opportunity at all, she would do everything she could to further Justin's cause.

* * *

Justin lay awake long after Amy had fallen asleep. When the night began, he hadn't dreamed Amy would allow him to kiss her, let alone make love to her. He had thought about this, hoped for it, so many times in the past few months, and now it had happened.

His arms tightened around her possessively. Making love to Amy had been incredible, everything he'd imagined it would be and more. Just thinking about their lovemaking caused a wellspring of happiness and a deep sense of contentment.

He refused to feel guilty on Sam's account. He wasn't the one who had gone off and left Amy. He wasn't the one who had been stupid enough to go climbing down a fucking cliff thousands of feet over a gorge. He wasn't the one who had to prove he was braver and more daring than everyone else.

It was Sam's own damned fault he'd died. His own damned fault Amy was now alone . . . and lonely.

I love her, and Sam is gone.
Besides, Sam wouldn't have wanted Amy to spend the rest of her life alone. Sam was nothing if not realistic. He had never wasted time lamenting the way things were. He had simply moved on. If the situations had been reversed, if it had been Amy who had died, Sam would have grieved, but eventually, he would have gone forward. And if the situations had been reversed in another way, if it had been Justin engaged to Amy and Justin who had died, he certainly wouldn't have wanted her to mourn and be lonely the rest of her life. He would have been glad to know that Sam was taking care of her and loving her.

But I'll never leave her.
It was his last thought before he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, when Amy awakened to find herself cradled in warm arms, her first reaction was guilt as memories of last night flooded her. Then she thought,
wait a minute, why should I feel guilty? I'm free, I'm an adult, what did I do that was so wrong?

Now fully awake, she thought about everything that had happened, from the moment she'd stepped through the door at Steven's townhouse last night until the moment she had gone to sleep in Justin's arms.

Examining her feelings, she decided she didn't regret anything, although this morning might be awkward, because she wasn't sure what Justin would expect now. She wasn't sure what it was she wanted, either.

But last night? No.

Making love with Justin had been surprisingly satisfying. Maybe not wild and intense, as it had been with Sam, but comforting and tender and deeply stirring, nonetheless. From the moment she'd indicated her willingness, Justin had taken charge. He hadn't been rough or anything like that, but he'd been masterful. She had felt loved and protected and . . .
cherished.
Yes, cherished was exactly the word to describe the way he'd made her feel. And because the experience with Justin was so different from her experiences with Sam, she had not, as she'd first feared, imagined herself to be with Sam or tried to project Sam's image in place of Justin's or made comparisons. No, all through their lovemaking last night, she had known exactly who it was kissing her and touching her . . . and she had not felt sad or unhappy or the least bit regretful.

She looked at Justin. He was such a great guy. Such a rock. His dark hair was tumbled over his forehead, his face peaceful and trouble-free. Resisting the urge to smooth his hair away—she didn't want to wake him—she wondered if he'd felt any guilt last night. She hoped not. There was no reason for either one of them to feel guilty—not on Sam's account, anyway. If Sam were here, none of this would be happening. And it was Sam's choice to leave, she thought with a trace of bitterness.

In fact, she wouldn't feel any regret at all if she had only been able to give Justin her whole heart the way she'd given him her whole body.

And that inability was the reason for her uncertainty now. Moving carefully, she slid out from under Justin's arm. As she pulled on her robe and shoved her feet into slippers, she decided that the best thing to do would be to confront the situation immediately. When he woke up, she would tell him how she felt and ask him how he felt. And then they would go from there.

The coffee had just begun to drip into the pot and she was pouring fresh cat food into the cats' food bowl when Justin, barefoot and bare chested, walked into the kitchen.

Amy had sternly told herself not to be coy or shy. Yet shyness attacked her, and it was hard to meet his eyes. "Good morning," she said, hoping her smile didn't look as forced as it felt.

"Good morning."

She recapped the plastic container of cat food, still not meeting his gaze directly. "Coffee's almost ready."

"Great." He walked closer.

Amy swallowed.

"Amy . . . " He reached over to still her restless hands.

She slowly looked up, her heart beating too fast.

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Then, firmly, he drew her into his arms.

She sighed, closing her eyes as their lips met. The kiss was long and sweet, but there was an undercurrent of desire there, too. It would be so easy to succumb to it, so easy to just climb back into bed with him, something he clearly wanted. Summoning all her willpower, Amy gently pushed him away. "Justin, wait . . . I . . . I think we have to talk first."

Something flamed in his eyes. Denial? Anger? Fear? Amy wasn't sure.

"Okay."

Oh, God. Was she really ready for this? "Um, would you like to shower first? I'll make breakfast, then when you're done, we can eat and talk." Again, she avoided his eyes. What a coward she was!

"Amy . . . "

His voice compelled her to look at him.

"You're stalling."

She laughed uncertainly. "I know."

Suddenly, he laughed, too, and some of the awkwardness and tension was diffused. Still chuckling, he bent and kissed the tip of her nose. "All right. I'll go get a shower and let you gather your thoughts, but when I'm done . . . "

His tone left no doubt in her mind. He was not going to be put off any longer. He had told her once he would never pressure her, that the next move was up to her. Well, now he was clearly telling her she'd made that move, and they could never go back to their old relationship. It was time for a decision, and he wasn't going to let her off the hook until she made it.

Twenty minutes later, showered and shaved and neatly dressed in the clothes he'd worn last night—which were only a little wrinkled—he joined her at the table.

She poured him a cup of coffee. "I made corn muffins. They'll be ready in about ten minutes."

He smiled, his eyes very blue as they met hers. "A beautiful woman who cooks. What more could a man ask for?"

Amy kept her voice just as light as his. "Yep, I slaved all of three minutes opening that box of mix and adding water and eggs."

Justin was scared but he was determined not to show it. He wanted her, yes, and for a while, he'd even believed he'd take her any way he could get her. But this morning, he'd realized he didn't want her out of pity. So he would not let her see his fear, even as he desperately hoped she wouldn't say last night had been a mistake.

He heard her behind him, heard the clank of the baking tray as she removed the muffins from the oven, the clink of dishes, the rattle of silverware—all the ordinary sounds a woman makes when she's getting breakfast ready. A painful lump formed in his chest.

A few minutes later, plate of muffins in hand, she settled across from him. Their eyes met.

"Amy . . . "

"Justin . . . "

They both laughed self-consciously.

She thought about how much she cared for him and how she didn't want to hurt him and how good it had felt to be with him last night.

He thought about how much he loved her and how beautiful she looked and how much he wanted to see her across the breakfast table from him every morning.

"This is hard for me to say," she began, "but I feel as if I have to say it. Last night . . . " She took a deep breath. "Last night was . . . really wonderful . . . but I want to be sure . . . I . . . oh, God . . . this is
really
hard."

Justin thought, what the hell. What would happen, would happen, so why not make it easier for both of them? "Amy, let's not play games. I'm a big boy. If you're sorry about last night, just say so."

"No! No, I'm
not
sorry. I just . . . well . . . I'm not in love with you the way . . . "

She broke off, and Justin knew she'd been about to say,
the way
I was with Sam. He told himself not to be hurt. It was too soon, that was all.

"The way a woman should be when she . . . begins an intimate relationship with a man," Amy continued doggedly. She
had
to make him understand. Unless everything was clear between them, she would not be able to go to bed with him again, ever, without feeling guilty, and she wasn't sure she could live with those feelings. "I love you. I love you a lot. But I'm not
in love
with you. And I don't think it's fair to you to go on unless you know that."

Relief and happiness were all mixed up together as Justin reached across the table to touch her hand. "But you love me, and that's a start. The other doesn't matter, Amy. I can wait for that."

"But Justin, I . . . I might not ever be in love with you."

He looked into her troubled eyes. They were so beautiful, just as everything about her was beautiful, from the inside out. She was trying so hard to be honest and fair. He loved her more at this moment than he'd ever loved her before. "Even that doesn't matter . . . as long as we're together . . . and as long as you want me.
Do
you want me?"

Her smile was like the sunlight appearing on a dark, gray day. "Yes," she said, "I want you. I want you very much."

* * *

Justin left at noon with the promise that he'd be back at seven. He was taking her to dinner at Ciro's.

At twelve-thirty, just as Amy was getting out of the shower, her phone rang. Hastily wrapping a towel around her head and another around her body, she raced into the bedroom.

"Hello?"

"Hi." It was Lark.

Amy smiled. "Hi. You feeling better today?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old. But yeah, I guess I'm feeling better."

"Good."

"I was wondering . . . you still want to try to catch a movie today?"

"Um, sure, if, um, we can go early enough for me to be back by seven. Justin's taking me to dinner tonight."

"Oh." There was a brief moment of silence, then, "Well, if you'd rather just forget it, that's okay."

Amy frowned. Lark sounded funny. Maybe she had figured the two of them would go out for dinner after the movie. Sure. That must be it. "No, I'd love to go to a movie with you. In fact, why don't you plan on going out to dinner with Justin and me?"

"Oh, no. Two's company, remember?"

"Lark, don't be silly. Justin's as much your friend as he is mine, and I know he'd love to have you come with us." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Amy knew they weren't quite true. She and Justin were more than friends now. They were lovers. But that didn't matter. The sentiment was true.

"I don't think—"

"That's right. Don't think," Amy said, laughing. "You're going with us, and that's that."

After they hung up, Amy wondered if she should tell Lark about Justin and what had happened the previous evening. The fact that she was wondering disturbed her. Always, in the past, she'd told Lark everything. What she was feeling as well as the things that had happened to her. What was different about this?

She wasn't sure. She only knew something was, and until she figured out why she felt reluctant, she would say nothing to Lark.

* * *

It didn't take Lark ten minutes in Amy's and Justin's company to realize that something had changed and only five more minutes to know exactly what that something was. Although Amy's behavior wasn't markedly different, Lark saw obvious changes in Justin's. Now there was a not-so-subtle possessiveness in his attitude toward Amy, in the way he contrived to touch her . . . and in the way he looked at her. And a couple of times, Amy gave him one of those soft, gooey looks, too.