mama.”
“Yeah, kids across America learned about death.”
She shook her head, sending wisps of hair into her eyes. “Incredible.”
He needed to stop staring at her, so he got up and crossed to his drafting table, thinking he could start some sketches for the new book. Then she startled him. “Oh, Brady.”
Right away he knew why she held up book five. Nostalgia drifted through him like a warm Caribbean breeze. “I’d moved in here by then,” he said, his voice husky. “And we got close.”
In that particular book, it was the dedication that had made her eyes go misty. “That’s quite an honor. Thank you so much.”
Brady remembered it word for word.
To my dearest Clare, who means more to me than I can express. Thank you for your friendship, your support and your loyalty.
“Was I excited?”
“Thrilled.” She’d hugged him as if she’d never let him go.
He missed those spontaneous, uncensored hugs.
By the time she finished reading all ten of his stories, it was late afternoon and he’d gotten little work done. She smoothed the cover of the last one lovingly and set it on the stack. Her expression was sad. “I’m so sorry you put this aside for me.”
“For us.”
“Whatever. I’ll bet kids are clamoring for more.”
“So the publisher says. I’ve got one to finish now. The last of Millie and Raoul.”
Standing, she replaced the books and faced him. “I’m going to go back to my condo so you can work on their story.”
“No, don’t go. My creative energy is drained. Besides, Max and Delia and I are having movie night at Max’s on his big-screen TV, and I’m responsible for the food.”
She glanced at the clock.
“I’d ask you to come, but I heard you talking to Harris about going out with him tonight.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m supposed to. Maybe if I took a nap, I’d have more energy for that.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Glancing away, she noticed a photo on the shelf and picked it up. It was of Max, Delia, Brady, Clare and Don Kramer, all a lot younger, barbecuing out back. Brady’s hair was longer, Clare’s was curly and Max hadn’t shaved his head yet. The most striking thing about it, Brady knew, was how happy Dee and Don were.
Clare stared at the photo for a long time, then shook her head. “Could I use your phone a second?”
“Sure.” From the drafting table, he watched her curiously as she crossed to his desk.
“Do you have Jonathan’s cell number?”
What was she up to? “Um, yeah. He gave it to me after you got hurt.”
He joined her at the desk and fished the number out of his Rolodex. She punched it in. And waited, without looking at him.
“Hello, Jonathan?” She paused. “Yes, I’m feeling well. But I’m going to cancel our dinner plans. No, no. I’d like to stay in tonight. Regroup a bit.” A longer pause. “Please, I don’t want you to do that. Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She set the receiver in its cradle and peered up at Brady with an expression he couldn’t read. “I didn’t lie,” she said.
“I heard. Fudged the truth a bit.”
She cocked her head. “I…I’d rather be with you guys tonight.”
“Music to my ears, babe.”
“Will it be all right with Max and Delia?”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Okay. I think I’ll go nap now.” Her face brightened. “And I’ll make some dessert. What do you guys like?”
“Your brownies are Max’s favorite. The ones with the butterscotch bits in them.”
She nodded to the computer. “You work on those wonderful stories.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, something she used to do routinely but hadn’t for a while.
Her scent—the lotion and shampoo—made Brady’s gut clench. He wanted to hold her so badly, he ached. He had to stifle the images that played through his mind.
She drew back and walked out of the office. Suddenly he was energized. And happy. And hopeful.
For the first time in over a year, Clare had chosen Brady over Jonathan.
I T
“Yeah, kids across America learned about death.”
She shook her head, sending wisps of hair into her eyes. “Incredible.”
He needed to stop staring at her, so he got up and crossed to his drafting table, thinking he could start some sketches for the new book. Then she startled him. “Oh, Brady.”
Right away he knew why she held up book five. Nostalgia drifted through him like a warm Caribbean breeze. “I’d moved in here by then,” he said, his voice husky. “And we got close.”
In that particular book, it was the dedication that had made her eyes go misty. “That’s quite an honor. Thank you so much.”
Brady remembered it word for word.
To my dearest Clare, who means more to me than I can express. Thank you for your friendship, your support and your loyalty.
“Was I excited?”
“Thrilled.” She’d hugged him as if she’d never let him go.
He missed those spontaneous, uncensored hugs.
By the time she finished reading all ten of his stories, it was late afternoon and he’d gotten little work done. She smoothed the cover of the last one lovingly and set it on the stack. Her expression was sad. “I’m so sorry you put this aside for me.”
“For us.”
“Whatever. I’ll bet kids are clamoring for more.”
“So the publisher says. I’ve got one to finish now. The last of Millie and Raoul.”
Standing, she replaced the books and faced him. “I’m going to go back to my condo so you can work on their story.”
“No, don’t go. My creative energy is drained. Besides, Max and Delia and I are having movie night at Max’s on his big-screen TV, and I’m responsible for the food.”
She glanced at the clock.
“I’d ask you to come, but I heard you talking to Harris about going out with him tonight.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m supposed to. Maybe if I took a nap, I’d have more energy for that.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Glancing away, she noticed a photo on the shelf and picked it up. It was of Max, Delia, Brady, Clare and Don Kramer, all a lot younger, barbecuing out back. Brady’s hair was longer, Clare’s was curly and Max hadn’t shaved his head yet. The most striking thing about it, Brady knew, was how happy Dee and Don were.
Clare stared at the photo for a long time, then shook her head. “Could I use your phone a second?”
“Sure.” From the drafting table, he watched her curiously as she crossed to his desk.
“Do you have Jonathan’s cell number?”
What was she up to? “Um, yeah. He gave it to me after you got hurt.”
He joined her at the desk and fished the number out of his Rolodex. She punched it in. And waited, without looking at him.
“Hello, Jonathan?” She paused. “Yes, I’m feeling well. But I’m going to cancel our dinner plans. No, no. I’d like to stay in tonight. Regroup a bit.” A longer pause. “Please, I don’t want you to do that. Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She set the receiver in its cradle and peered up at Brady with an expression he couldn’t read. “I didn’t lie,” she said.
“I heard. Fudged the truth a bit.”
She cocked her head. “I…I’d rather be with you guys tonight.”
“Music to my ears, babe.”
“Will it be all right with Max and Delia?”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Okay. I think I’ll go nap now.” Her face brightened. “And I’ll make some dessert. What do you guys like?”
“Your brownies are Max’s favorite. The ones with the butterscotch bits in them.”
She nodded to the computer. “You work on those wonderful stories.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek, something she used to do routinely but hadn’t for a while.
Her scent—the lotion and shampoo—made Brady’s gut clench. He wanted to hold her so badly, he ached. He had to stifle the images that played through his mind.
She drew back and walked out of the office. Suddenly he was energized. And happy. And hopeful.
For the first time in over a year, Clare had chosen Brady over Jonathan.
I T
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