No Magic Moment Page 22

  “Has he come out and talked to you about any of this? About the way he feels being apart from me?”

  Her features, as tender as a medieval Madonna already, softened in compassion. “Not in so many words…but I’m his mother. I know. I just know.”

  I tempered my reaction. Lines like the mama-knows-all thing always struck me as a lot of hooey but I wasn’t going to trash her rights to the feeling. “I don’t want to put you in the middle of this. If it’s uncomfortable, we can just talk about your PT and iced tea and the farm and shit. I love it here, Di. I love you and I want you to get well—but I love your son more than anything I’ve loved my entire life. I really don’t want to leave here without him this time.”

  “Honey.” She stroked a couple of fresh tears off my cheekbone. “I know. I know.”

  I firmed my jaw, needing her to see I had more to force out. “But if he tells me to go, I will. I can no longer make him look at something he’s not willing to see.”

  “He thinks he’s doing right by you.” She lowered her hand to my knee, patting in emphasis. “He truly does. He’s making you safe by keeping you away from us. And, Margaux, I won’t lie, some of his anxiety is well-founded. Until this Declan situation is settled, the man is a viable threat to our world. Michael just can’t face the idea of going through all of it again…of finding you in the same condition I was in.” Her lower lip trembled. “He said…that he thought I was dead.”

  I pulled in a rickety breath. “Yeah. He did.”

  “He also told me that he thought he was dying, too.”

  I dropped my head. “Shit.”

  “Then afterward, having to sit there and do nothing, unable to tell the doctors or police that he knew who did it, when they asked over and over and over. Hell, they all still probe me about it now. ‘So you didn’t see who did this?’ they ask. ‘Not one time? You didn’t see what they were wearing, a tattoo, a scar, anything?’” She grunted and poured herself more cider. “They make you feel like you’re stupid, a victim. Do you know how bad it makes me feel?”

  I pushed out my haughtiest sniff. “I know how pissed it would make me feel.”

  “Oh, there are plenty of those moments, too. When they command me to push a little harder in my workout…you know, just one more set, a few more reps? But that crap kills me more than physically. It guts my insides every time. Declan Pearson has terrorized us for the better part of my life and for all of Michael’s. I want him to die, Margaux. If I could kill him right now, I would do it—with my own hands.” She held out her hands, palms up, as if they were frightening organisms from another planet. “And what the hell does that say about me now? One man has completely changed my moral fiber—and it disgusts me. I was a good person. A kind, loving person. Now I’m no less of a monster than he is.”

  I raised my arm around her shoulder. It was like she hadn’t drunk the cider. Her skin was cold, her limbs trembling. “Listen to me, Di Pearson. You are brave, strong and one of the most tender, loving people I’ve ever met. You are good and kind and that evil piece of shit Declan doesn’t deserve the air and space he takes up. Don’t you dare compare yourself to him again.”

  Her body shuddered beneath my touch. Her voice was just as unsteady. “I’m just filled with such…rage.”

  “I’d think that’s completely normal after what you’ve been through. Damn it, you have every single right to feel what you are feeling! Give yourself some slack. You’ve survived a traumatic experience and you’re lucky to be alive.”

  She lifted teary eyes. “Which is what I should be focusing on, right?”

  “Oh hell no!” I humphed, perfectly emulating her feistier moments. “The fact that you want to kill that motherfucker? Well, I’d be consumed with the concept. Shit, I’ll even help you do it. Where can we buy the bullets? No, wait. You have horses, right? Let’s draw and quarter him!”

  She burst into giggles, making me grin with silly pride. I gave her shoulders another gentle squeeze and snuck a glance at her pretty features, now noticing the stress that attacked the corners of her eyes and mouth. If she wasn’t already in counseling, maybe that needed to be part of her healing process, too. I couldn’t know for sure and didn’t feel right asking such a personal question.

  Ugh. It sucked that Michael had cut me out of the loop. Some female-to-female bonding time would likely help her right now, as well. We’d been sneaking the text messages and occasional phone calls, but Di needed someone to lean on. It was definitely something he and I were going to have to address when we spoke—

  If we spoke.

  No. I refused to let the doubts back in. Optimism was the course I’d picked and I was going to stay true to it. Surely Michael would allow at least a civil conversation.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go inside and freshen up.”

  Di cupped my cheek and smiled softly. “Make yourself comfortable, honey. My home is your home, you know that.”

  I hugged her once more. Oh, yes, I truly loved this woman.

  After grabbing my purse, I made my way inside to the guest bathroom on the first floor. I was suddenly nervous about Michael’s imminent arrival and primping always calmed me down a bit.

  My look was natural and casual after changing from the office this afternoon, a pair of skinny jeans and a red turtleneck, so I just ran a brush through my hair and put on some lip gloss over my berry stain.

  I froze with my finger still at my lips.

  Someone else had joined Di on the porch. I could make out conversation but not exact words, since all the windows still had their screens in, not changed to the winter storm windows yet. The front door was open, meaning only the screen door stood between me and the outside once I cracked open the bathroom door.

  Shit. Shit.

  It was him. My trembling knees told me even before his deep, resonating voice made my heart skip a beat. His baritone would always have that effect on me, no matter where I was when I heard it.

  It was showtime.

  I stepped into the living room on quiet feet, trying to hear what he and Di were talking about before he saw me. Not eavesdropping…merely a creative entrance.

  “Holy crap. That’s a sweet Maserati. Do you have company, Mom?”

  “We do. But how was your day? The drive home?”

  “Who stopped by?”

  “She’s in the bathroom, baby. Sit down and visit with me. It’s so lovely out tonight.”

  “Uh-uh. It’s too cold out here for you. Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill. And why are you avoiding my questions?”

  “Because you’re paranoid and suspicious about everything?”

  “Yeah. Someone else said that to me once.”

  “Oh? Sounds like a very wise person.”

  “Something like that.”

  “So tell me about your day.”

  “It was fine. Seriously, Mom. Just tell me who’s here. I’m not in the mood for surprises. You know I don’t like that shit.”

  “Michael Adam. Really, again with the potty mouth?”

  I could see a smile break out across his lips. Oh, God…those lips. I wanted to kiss them hello more than take another breath right now. I knew they’d be soft and warm, demanding but yielding to my own needs, too.

  Love and longing welled in my throat. This was better and worse than I’d imagined. I’d missed him so damn much…so much more than I’d ever admitted to. Watching him from my secret spot made my pulse speed up. I wanted to stay in hiding just a few minutes more, capturing mini memories to call up in the future if this reunion turned out to be a disaster.

  It wouldn’t be.

  It won’t be.

  “Bah,” he scoffed good-naturedly. “Tell me if you haven’t heard anything before. I’ll be happy to stop and explain.”

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me if you remember the old bar of Ivory. I’m certain it tastes just as good today as it did when you were eight.”

  Well, hell. That did it. The mental picture of him rocking a bar
of soap like one of his favorite bagels made me giggle where I stood, just inside the screen door.

  As soon as he heard the sound, Michael’s head snapped up.

  I was busted.

  And he was livid.

  “Oh, hell no.” He glared back at Di. “No-no-no-no-no! I swear, if you called her and told her—”

  “Michael Adam!”

  He didn’t listen. He was too busy charging toward the screen door. Just before he could grab the handle and yank it, I stepped out—into his path.

  “Surprise?”

  Silence. Dead silence was more like it. Even the crickets and owls way off in the trees seemed to take a moment to gather their thoughts before launching into the next verse of their nightly songs.

  “What are you doing here?” He looked me over from head to toe, tense as Lot expecting his wife to become salt any second. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “It’s great to see you too. I’ve missed you, too. Okay, your turn now.”

  He fumed.

  I squirmed.

  God. Seeing him up close? Smelling him? Taking him in from head to toe in his perfectly fitted mister lawyer man suit? Karma just bit me in the ass, big time—and I had a lot coming to me in the karma department, so I couldn’t really complain.

  Involuntarily, I swayed toward him. The fates were truly fucking with me tonight.

  “Margaux…”

  “Well, you remember my name. That’s a start.” I shook my head a bit, battling to regain control of my senses. Clearly I was having a hormonal meltdown and he was having—just a meltdown.

  I looked at him, trying not to be hurt. Or furious. I knew going into this that he wouldn’t be happy to see me, but a little part had clung to the hope that it would all be different once he actually saw me.

  Fool.

  This is what happens when your heart does the guide work, girlfriend.

  “I’m going to give you two some privacy.” Di lurched to her feet. We both rushed to help her.

  “That’s not necessary,” Michael gritted. “She’s not staying.”

  “Don’t be rude, Michael.” Diana smacked his shoulder on her way into the house.

  He glowered at her fading back. “Well, she’s not!”

  I let out a growl to match his. “She is standing right here, damn it.”

  “But, you shouldn’t be. You should be in San Diego, where it’s safe.” He gave me the Lot-and-salt glare again, stabbing a hand into his hair. “For the love of God, Margaux. What were you thinking, coming here? Do you have a demented death wish or something?”

  I waited for him to look at me.

  And waited.

  A full minute later, he actually met my gaze. Instantly, I stumbled back. The pain I saw in his eyes…it sucked my breath away. I shook my head, confused. Where did all that agony stem from? Was it from seeing me? Missing me? Or was it true anger, simply from me being here? And if so…why?

  My arms itched to reach for him. I wanted to feel him close to me, to have his warmth surround me, to make me whole again. But I couldn’t ask for that. Could I?

  “Please.” It barely made a sound as it escaped unchecked.

  “Please?” His eyes flared, illuminating their wild mix of silver moon and raging gold. “Please what? What the hell more do you want from me, woman? I’m in pieces, Margaux. Do you understand? I can’t think. I can barely eat. Fuck, I definitely don’t sleep. And you say please. You say please like I have the answers to make it right again!”

  “You do! You’re the one imposing these ridiculous conditions on us!” I stomped down the steps right after him—Christ, I was chasing him!—unable to control or contain myself. “Just—just hold me, okay? Is that too much to fucking ask? Just kiss me, even once, before you decide to send me away again!”

  He stopped but didn’t turn, hands on his hips. I swallowed repeatedly, determined my tears wouldn’t clog a damn syllable I uttered next.

  “But know this, Michael. If that’s what you choose—if you do send me away—I won’t come back up here again. This is the last time I chase your gorgeous, goddamned ass—so be really, really sure of what the hell you want.”

  He pivoted around, scuffing the packed dirt. “Are you…threatening me? Is that what you came here to do?” He had the nerve to laugh. But it was a cocky, ‘I’m protecting myself’ type of laugh. He was in as much pain as I was.

  I bit back my anger to quietly answer, “No. This isn’t a threat. I need to function, to exist. You swore you’d be a part of that existence, yet you ran away—twice. I’ve only come to collect what’s mine—what was promised to me. To prove to you that I still believe in us, that I believe we’re worth fighting for. But I won’t do it again, Michael. And I certainly can’t do it alone.”

  He stepped closer. Then again. A narrow alley of night breeze was all that separated us.

  I longed to leap into his arms and cover his face with kisses, but somehow held back. He needed to make the move—to make up even that small space, because it represented so much more. The gap he’d put between us. Whichever way it went now, he was the one driving our destiny.

  I watched his internal war, displayed through the chaos in his eyes.

  He took one more step closer.

  I trembled. And rooted my feet to the spot.

  “You’re in danger here.”

  He seethed each word like an animal warning off a foe. I gulped hard but jabbed my chin up.

  “I’m in danger no matter where I am. Being without you—this ridiculous, stupid exile—is the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.”

  He leaned in. I could feel his warmth now. The heat of his torment and rage.

  “Get back in that car and drive back to San Diego, Margaux.”

  “Not until you tell me that we’re over. Forever, Michael. Make sure it’s what you want.”

  He took one more step.

  I unleashed one desperate sob.

  He moved so quickly, I stumbled back.

  He was right there, catching me effortlessly then sweeping me up—as his lips crashed down. He took my mouth in a furious sweep of passion, bruising me and caressing me at the same time. When we pulled back and I gasped, he moved in to suck on my tongue, possessing me from the inside as thoroughly as the outside.

  I was breathless, helpless, and dizzy when he pulled back, staring down relentlessly into my face.

  “I will love you until the day I die, princess.”

  Against every force of my will, another sob blurted out. He’d uttered the words like a man going to the gallows. No. Please. I love you!

  “That’s why I want you to leave this mountain and never come back. Please, please…I don’t know how many different ways you need to hear it, you stubborn, beautiful woman. I won’t watch you suffer because of your association with me. Now take your things, say goodbye to my mother and leave.”

  He released me in a series of awkward jerks, as if our bodies had been sewn together and he’d ripped the seams open. After pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he stepped away, his harsh choke barely audible, before he turned toward the barn. The barn…where we’d made so many memories just a few months back.

  Gone.

  The memories. And him.

  I watched him go until I couldn’t discern his shape from the rest of the shadows. Somehow I stumbled back to the porch, sinking to the creaky steps, listening to the sounds of the night as it called out, answered by the various farm creatures.

  The only thing out of place was the sniffle and drip of my tears, because I couldn’t hold them back now if I tried.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Michael

  I stalked into the barn, then right through it. All the doors were still open, since the display crew was working into the night to test out the lighting they’d rigged so far. Damn good thing. No way was the chaos of my mind and the turmoil barreling through my body going to confine itself to four walls and a bunch of hay bales.

  The crew, working thr
oughout the orchard, read the subtext in my stomps and wisely gave me a wide berth. No social hour right now for anyone but my fury and me—made even worse because it was all directed at me.

  The images flashing to mind weren’t exactly helpful little elves. Though my feet crunched across dry leaves and through thick mulch, other floors of other times took dominance now. The swirled carpet of the Hotel Del’s ballroom, resembling a sea of vomit that supported Declan’s move on Margaux. The dirty concrete of the county holding cell, doubling as a bed for three passed-out drunks. Finally, the marble floor of the condo’s foyer, stained from the blood in Mom’s hair as her head tumbled from the burlap sack.

  The bag those bastards had stolen from us. From this goddamn orchard.

  And I was the one being called a paranoid nutcase. Regarded like a monster with no heart.

  I had a heart, god damn it. It was still here in my chest, struggling through every day as best it could. I cobbled it together every morning with threads of determination and packing tape of hope, bound by prayers that the day would end with Doug’s check-in call, relaying that all was well and Margaux was still alive. Every night I let it fell apart again, my grief hidden by the shadows of midnight. If all the pieces made it to morning, I’d start the whole fucking process all over again.

  Right now, midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

  I looked up, concluding it might be closer than I thought. The crew had gotten up more lights than I’d thought they would, illuminating the orchard significantly. Beyond that, the night had a damn good grip on the mountain. I asked a passing crew member for the time, stunned to learn I’d been out here for two hours. On cue, a sharp wind kicked up, biting straight through my suit to confirm the fact.

  Two hours. Mom and Margaux had to be finished with their commiseration of fury by now—though I wasn’t startled to see the shiny Maserati still parked outside the main house as I walked back up the hill. The mix of joy and agony in my chest wasn’t a stunner either—not that I planned on examining it beyond that. I wasn’t sticking around long.

  The first surprise I did get was trudging into the living room and not finding my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—and my mother cuddled up on the couch together. Only the second half of that dynamic duo remained, waiting with her e-reader perched on one knee, an expectant scowl on her face.