KATE HAD COME to hate Friday nights.
Most nights she was so wiped out that her only sleep issues were courtesy of little Mr. Jameson. But Fridays were the night before her call with Boone, which meant that she spent half the night making lists of what she needed to tell him, and then the other half making lists of what she couldn’t tell him. When she wasn’t reminding herself what she could and couldn’t say, she was giving herself the pep talk she delivered every week.
Come on, girl. You can do it. You survived last week, even though Boone needed a haircut and you spent the whole call wanting to push his bangs back. You’ll make it through this one.
There were times when she felt she should really get a dog. Because, heaven knew, she was talking to herself exactly the way she would address a pup. At least if she had a dog, she would have someone else to talk to while she spent the night in the rocking chair, cursing herself for wasting precious sleep hours.
And then Saturday nights were almost worse. She had survived, yes, but she also had a whole conversation’s worth of fresh reminders of how much she missed him. And how angry she was at him. And how much joy he was stealing from all of them, just because he was—what? Too scared of the past to give them all a shot at happiness?
On the one hand, her heart ached for him.
On the other hand, if he were to walk in the door she couldn’t decide if she would kiss him or give him holy hell.
It was probably a good thing that she was still nursing. If she could drink, she would be developing a bottle-a-night habit, and who could afford that? Thank God Allie had both moved in and was in the habit of bringing home leftovers. There was something decadent and cozy about wandering the empty house, distracting herself from the memories and hurts by nibbling on a slice or forking up a little spaghetti.
On the third Friday after Boone’s departure—well, technically, it was a little after one on Saturday morning—she was sacked out on the living room sofa, sitting in the dark and snacking on garlic bread while she watched the tree branches swaying in the moonlight, when she became aware of a sound from upstairs. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in years, but it was one she had lived so many times in the aftermath of Neil’s death that there was no mistaking it.
Allie was crying.
Big sister instincts kicked in immediately. Kate grabbed the monitor, threw it in the pocket of her robe, and made it up the stairs in record time.
“Allie?” She knocked on the door. “Allie, what’s wrong?”
Allie’s response was muffled but there was no doubt that the words she had just uttered would have earned her a swipe of soap across the tongue when they were kids.
Kate had a moment of panic. She’d been so intent on getting up here quickly that she hadn’t even thought that Allie might not be alone. Much as Kate liked Cash, she wasn’t prepared to see him while she was in her jammies. Especially because she was ashamed to admit that her so-called nightshirt was really one of Boone’s T-shirts that she’d pilfered while they were still in Ottawa.
But if there was one thing she’d learned after years of working with little kids, it was that an air of confidence compensated for a multitude of sins.
“Allie.” She knocked again. “Come on. Open up.”
She heard the rustling of covers, the shuffle of feet, the rattle of the doorknob.
“Go back to bed.” Allie crossed her arms. “I’m fine.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Really.”
“That’s interesting, seeing as how you were crying loud enough that I heard you all the way downstairs.”
“Maybe I wasn’t crying.”
Kate peeked over Allie’s shoulder. The bed was empty, Allie was in pajamas, and her eyes and cheeks were puffy and wet.
With one finger, Kate teased a tear from her sister’s cheek. “You want to tell me about what’s not wrong?”
Allie’s lips clamped together.
Silence.
“Did something happen at work?”
“No. Kate—”
“With Cash?”
Allie’s face crumpled. “No.”
She never could lie for beans.
“What did he do, Al?”
“Nothing. Don’t you have a baby who’ll be waking you up soon?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with preschoolers. I know how to use distraction, and let me tell you, that didn’t cut it.”
“It wasn’t a distraction. It was the truth.”
“Oh, good. How about spilling a few more truth bombs, okay?” She ran through possibilities in her mind. Maggie was in favor of the sisters living together, so it wasn’t that... Cash had joined them for dinner on Wednesday and everything had seemed fine then, though Kate was painfully aware of how quickly relationships could shift... She and Allie had adjusted to each other’s schedules, Allie was totally unpacked, her check for the utilities hadn’t bounced...
“Is Cash having a hard time with you living here?”
The night light in the hall cast enough illumination for Kate to see the way Allie’s gaze dropped.
“Okay, kiddo.” Kate took her sister’s arm and guided her back into the room, seating both of them on the edge of the bed. “Out with it. What’s his problem? Is he—I mean, this is kind of awkward, but is it, you know, not private enough for you guys? Because I know it’s not the same as having your own place, but we could maybe put a door at the top of the stairs, or put a minifridge and a microwave in Boone—I mean, in the other room, so you don’t have to feel like you’re in a dorm, or—”
Allie stared at her for a second before bursting into an odd mix of laughter and tears, punctuated by some serious hiccups. Kate reached for her. Old habits died hard. But Allie shook her head and raised a hand to stop her.
“It’s not that, Kate. Cash hasn’t said a word, I swear on Nana’s grave, and I’m at his place half the time anyway, so it’s not like we’re teenagers trying to find a way to sneak off together.” She grinned, hiccupped once more and stared down at her hands knotted in her lap.
Kate put on her thinking cap. Whatever it was, Allie obviously didn’t want to tell her. So, that meant...crap, she wasn’t awake enough for logic... It had to be something Allie was afraid would upset Kate. Something that would make her worried or angry or sad or...
Oh.
“It’s not Cash who has the problem with you living here, is it, Allie Cat?”
Allie tried. She really did. She shook her head, all wide-eyed innocence, but the half sob in her throat betrayed her. “This made so much sense,” she wailed. “And I was so excited to move in and play with Jamie, and help you the way you always help me. But—”
“But Cash?”
“Yeah. Cash. Every time I go there, I kick myself. I know that we’ve only been together a few months and I know that people will talk and I know that Mom is going to blow her stack, but, Kate, I...this is wrong.” She grabbed a tissue from the nightstand. “My head knows that living here is the right thing. But the rest of me thinks my head is a horse’s ass.”
“Oh, my God, Allie, you dipstick. Have you felt like this since you moved in?”
“Um...”
Kate’s stomach cramped.
“Actually, it’s been since...um...the day after you suggested it.”
Which meant that Allie had regretted saying yes almost immediately. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it made sense. And it really was the perfect solution. And I figured once I got here, everything would be fine.”
Now it was Kate’s turn to burst into laughter. “Well that should have been your first clue right there.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were talking yourself into it. Just like when you—”
“When I almost married Luke. Oh, hell. How could I be so dense?”
Kate was pretty sure she was supposed to say something sympathetic and bracing. Unfortunately, sympathetic and bracing were beyond her reach at the moment. The best she could manage was sarcastically supportive.
“You could at least have figured it out before you got everything unpacked, you goof.”
“I told you it would be scary if I had to be the practical one!”
Kate grabbed more tissues and shoved them at her sister the idiot. “First thing in the morning, I want you to pack a bag and get your cute little behind to Cash’s house where it belongs.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about your stuff. Just move it as you can. If you need to leave anything here, that’s no problem. It’ll make the rooms look more lived in.”
“Thanks, but that’s not what I—Kate. I don’t want to leave you all alone.”
Not to worry. Boone took care of that.
“Hey. We both knew this wasn’t going to be permanent. The end just came sooner than we expected.”
“But what about the house? Will you still be able to stay until next spring?”
The cramp in her stomach intensified.
“That requires math, and right now the only counting either one of us should be doing involves sheep.” She gave Allie a quick hug before rising. “See you in the—”
“Hang on.” Allie’s hand closed on the hem of the T-shirt, halting Kate’s departure. “I’m not going to just run off and leave you. We’ll work out something.”
“Allie, really. It’ll be fine.”
She tugged the shirt out of Allie’s hand and made tracks for the door again, only to be stopped once more. This time, however, it was Allie’s words that made her pause.
“Kate. Remember how you said I should have got a clue that something was wrong when I was talking myself into staying here?”
“Right.”
“Well, I’m not the only one trying to convince herself everything is okay. Maybe you should ask yourself why you start getting antsy when I ask you simple questions.” Her voice dropped. “Or why you keep saying that everything is fine when we both know it isn’t.”
* * *
AT FOUR THIRTY, Kate told herself that if she wasn’t asleep in five minutes, she would have to get up. There was no point in staying in bed. She was tossing and turning so much her movement could probably be measured on the Richter scale.
At 5:05 a.m. she opened her eyes to the sound of snuffling and whimpers from the crib.
Crap. She should have dragged herself out of bed while she could. She’d had just enough sleep that now she was more exhausted than she would have been if she’d pulled a true all-nighter.
It’ll be okay, she assured herself as she settled Jamie at her breast. Allie would leave for work around ten. And Boone would call soon after that. She always felt some momentary relief after their weekly call was over. Then it would be lunch, and then she’d put Jamie down for his nap, and she would lie down herself and catch a few winks. If she could just hang on for...um...seven hours, she would be fine.
She winced, and not because of the razor-sharp tiny fingernails curling into her face.
“But I am fine,” she said. Quietly, of course, because there was a small chance that Jamie would go back to sleep. “I’m healthy. Jamie is healthy. Boone is...okay, not here, and not part of my world, but he’s still happy and healthy. We have a roof over our heads and will continue to have one, even if it’s different. Allie came to her senses. Mom is...” She hesitated. “Mom is Mom. I still have a lot of maternity leave, and I have a great job to go back to, and I am fine, just fine, and...”
It occurred to her that someone who was truly fine wasn’t likely to be assuring herself of that while sitting alone in the dark. At an ungodly hour. With tears streaming down her face.
Wait a minute. When had she started crying?
“Okay, so I’m tired.” She stroked Jamie’s cheek. “Of course everything is going to feel more overwhelming. That’s just logical. Right, kiddo?”
Since she and Jamie had yet to learn the same language, she didn’t get much of a reply.
On the other hand...
“I do say fine a lot.”
Jamie’s hand batted at her cheek.
“I say bad words a lot, too, though. So that’s no proof of anything. Right?”
Except no one had ever called her out on her word choice when she was swearing. Other than her mother, of course, and that was just part of the job.
“Fine.” She said it again, drawing the word out, elongating the f and stretching the n, as if testing them to see how long she could make them last.
“There’s nothing wrong with saying I’m fine,” she told Jamie as she initiated the burp sequence. “I mean, what am I supposed to say? ‘No, Allie, you can’t leave, I’m counting on you splitting the bills so I can stay here’? ‘No, Mom, I don’t know when Boone is coming back or how I’m going to finish the repairs’? ‘No, Boone, you have to overcome everything you ever learned and leave the only family you’ve ever known so you can live here with us, because like it or not, we’re a team, like Han and Leia or Indy and Marion or—’”
“It’s almost like I’m back in that convention hall where I met your dad,” she said to Jamie. “Characters everywhere. Everybody in costume. Everyone pretending to be—”
Everyone pretending to be something or someone they weren’t. Just like she had been doing when she met Boone.
Just like she had been doing since he went back to Peru, since he left the first time, since she assured herself that she was good with something fast and furious and temporary when she had never been a fast or furious or temporary kind of gal in her life.
So, had she been pretending—acting—for the last year and a half?
“No.” That one was out loud—for Jamie, for her, for the universe. “No. Not about everything.”
She recognized the truth of that deep inside her. She might have jollied herself through a few moments, like telling Boone that she was pregnant, or her entire labor. But most of the time, she had been herself. A new self, transitioning to motherhood, but still Katherine Joy Hebert.
Except when she was dealing with a situation she didn’t like. Such as, oh, when Boone insisted he couldn’t be a father. Or when Allie got a clue about where she wanted to live. Or when Jamie woke up at ungodly hours. Though for that one she’d give herself a pass, because who would ever survive parenting if they weren’t allowed to fake their way through the scary parts?
But even she, in her half-asleep, half-crying state, could see that there was a thread connecting those situations. It wasn’t simply that she was trying to talk herself through things she didn’t want to do.
She was trying to make sure everyone else was happy. Even if it meant lying to them about what she felt.
Even if it meant lying to herself.
A giant sob welled up and burst out of her, a choking, shuddering kind that had Jamie pausing in midsuck to stare up at her, his little eyes wide with alarm.
“Shh,” she said through ragged breaths. “Shh. It’s okay, baby, Mommy is—”
Mommy is so used to making sure everyone else is okay that she barely remembers how to take care of herself.
She rocked back and forth, a little more quickly, not sure if she was trying to soothe herself or her baby, but this time, it didn’t matter.
“This has to stop.” That one she said out loud, too, because she knew it would take a hell of a lot of forceful repetition to make that message sink in. “I am going to be a single parent...well, it doesn’t matter. I can’t walk around pretending everything is hunky-dory when it isn’t, because then it’ll be just like when I don’t get enough to drink. I’ll crash and burn. I’m not doing anybody any favors by pretending to be fine when I’m not.” She reconsidered. “Okay. Sometimes it’s acceptable. But not when it’s big things, because...because...because for all I know, there might be a compromise, or some other solution. But if I don’t say something, we’ll never look for it, let alone find it.”
She shifted Jamie to her shoulder. He let his unhappiness be known.
“I need to take a page from your book, kid. Not for everything. But for the important stuff. Like...like when I told Aunt Allie that I didn’t care about her moving out already. I’m glad for her, I really am, but she’s right. This is screwing up the plans I made.” She swayed back and forth, patting and rubbing the little body that was already so much bigger than it had been just a few short months ago. “Or like when I said that I would be okay when your dad went back to Peru. The first time, I mean. Because even though Granny and Aunt Allie are wonderful, they weren’t your Dad.”
But none of those situations held a candle to the big one.
“I never ever should have told your dad that I was good with something temporary, or something long-distance,” she whispered against Jamie’s head. “Because I’m not. I want him here. And even though I am proud of what he’s doing there, and I really do understand how hard it would be for him to take a chance on a family again, we deserve that chance. Me and you, and him, too. Maybe, if I had pushed it a bit, he would have been more willing to give it a shot. Maybe, when I told him I was okay with marriage being just for Nana, I was giving him the excuse he needed. Not because he can’t do family, because he can. If he thinks he hasn’t found a home and family there in Peru, then he’s only lying to himself. But maybe...”
Maybe when she was turning herself inside out to accommodate him, to give him the chance to keep her and Jamie at a distance, it was what the grown-up Boone had needed. But maybe the scared, rejected kid inside him hadn’t heard freedom, options, compromise. That kid probably heard not needed, not necessary, not truly wanted.
“I might be way off base with this, kiddo.” Though it sure didn’t feel that way. “But tonight, I’m going to talk to Aunt Allie about finding a fair way to deal with her moving out. And when your dad calls, I’m going to level with him. What the heck, right? It’s not like things could get much worse.” She laughed softly. “And after a night of no sleep, I might just be exhausted and scary enough to really pull it off.”
* * *
BOONE COULDN’T REMEMBER ever being so nervous about a Skype call. Well, maybe the one when he’d spilled the news to Jill and Craig that he’d been doing a bit more than studying and sight-seeing in his off-hours in Ottawa. But since then, there hadn’t been another long-distance communication that had set his heart thumping and his throat humming the way the anticipation of this one did. Even the interactions with Ian North that had made this possible were a blip on the excitement scale in comparison.
He puttered around the office until the appointed time, when he checked to see that Kate had signed on and then hit her number.
“Hello,” he sang out, though the last syllable fell somewhat flat as the video came into view. Jamie seemed to be doing his best to crawl up Kate’s chest and make the great dive to freedom over her shoulder. Boone had a perfect view of Jamie’s butt as he squirmed and flailed. It wasn’t the best in terms of scenery, but given the amount of action, Jamie was certainly feeling strong and healthy today.
Kate, on the other hand, was a wreck. Her hair hung wet around her head, as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. Her shirt seemed to be buttoned wrong. The bags beneath her eyes were bigger than the ones he’d packed for his six-week visit, and her usual sparkle, even the subdued version he’d seen since his return, was lost behind a layer of...he wasn’t sure what. Exhaustion, yes. That was evident. But there seemed to be more there, something that went deeper than fatigue.
“Hey,” she said, her voice as flat as her eyes.
“Rough night?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. He was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be a smile. “Yeah, you could say that.”
The familiar sense of helplessness took hold of him. There was absolutely nothing he could do from here except let her vent and assure her that she was doing an amazing job, that it would get easier.
Easy for you to say.
He pushed the snarky thought away. Yes, it was true. He definitely wasn’t doing his share of the work in raising their son.
But this time, at least, he could promise himself—and her—that the situation would soon be changing. That soon, he would be in a position to really make her life better.
“Is he cutting another tooth?”
“Yeah, I think maybe—”
The oddest thing happened. It was as if she forcefully stopped herself from saying whatever she had started to say. Not because she had been interrupted, but because she remembered something.
“No.” It came out a little wavering at first, a little questioning, but then she said it again and there was no mistaking the underlying steel. “No, actually. His teeth are fine. I had a lot on my mind that made it difficult to sleep.”
Her head tipped slightly. For a second she seemed almost pleased with herself.
Boone didn’t claim to know everything about Kate Hebert, not by a long shot, but one thing was certain: she was definitely showing him a side of her that he’d never seen before.
“Anything you need to tell me?”
She hauled Jamie back onto her lap while she considered. “Yes, actually, but let me get through the Jamie report first.”
Yeah, this was definitely up there in the freaky column. But he couldn’t help but think that she would be a lot more like herself once he told her his news.
“Okay. But I have—” he began. Kate spoke over him.
“As you can see, Mr. Frisky here is learning the wonderful world of transportation. He’s sitting all by himself for long periods now, a good ten minutes at a stretch, and the other day I caught him doing some wiggle worm type of actions when he was having tummy time. I think we might have an early crawler on our hands.” She turned Jamie to face the screen. “Look, kiddo. There’s Daddy. Are you going to wave to him?”
Jamie slapped the screen and turned tail again.
“He’s making some different sounds this week. I’ll try to catch them and send you a video. They’re starting to sound more like a conversation, with the pauses and cadence you would expect, like he’s imitating—”
“Kate, I have a job offer.”
He shouldn’t have blurted it out that way. But she seemed so distracted, and Jamie was being so active that he was afraid she was going to have to take off at any moment, and he had to let her know.
“You have a what?”
“Remember, while I was there I applied for some consulting things. Advisory jobs I could do from here. I mentioned it to Cash, just making conversation, and he said his brother runs a charitable—”
“Right. The Northstar Foundation. What about it?”
“Long story short, they’ve offered me a job. Ian says it’s about a fifty-fifty split between being based in Canada and traveling, and the best part is—” he inhaled, drawing it out, savoring the moment “—the best part is that it pays real money. So you and Jamie can stay in the house.”
He sat back and grinned, feeling like he’d finally made it to the top of Mount Dad. He laughed and shook his head, leaning sideways in his chair, swiveling in wide side-to-side motions like a kid who couldn’t hold in his excitement.
“It’ll take me about a few weeks to get finished up here. But—”
“Are you telling me you’re leaving Project Sonqo? You’re leaving Peru?”
“Yeah.” He blew out the breath of disbelief that always hit him when he thought about that part. “Yeah. I am.”
“You’re giving up the work you love.”
Boone was getting a strong suspicion that Kate wasn’t anywhere as thrilled about this turn of events as he had expected her to be.
“And you’re doing it...let me get this straight. You’re doing it so that Jamie and I can stay in the house.”
“Uh—”
“With or without you?”
Without, of course, said the voice of fear.
With, you idiot, said everything else.
Since he wasn’t capable of coming up with a coherent answer, he stayed quiet.
“Tell me, Boone. Were there aliens inhabiting your body when I asked you to stay married? Didn’t you hear anything I said that night?” She twisted sideways, peering at him around Jamie, who was sprawling across her face like a starfish on a rock.
“I wanted to—”
“No. No, don’t you dare say you wanted to help us stay here. I mean, okay, yes. Yes, in itself, that was thoughtful and I understand why you feel it’s important, so don’t think I’m not—” She rubbed a tired hand over her face, pushing her hair back, pulling Jamie’s finger out of her ear. “But my God, Boone. You couldn’t leave Peru for me. You couldn’t leave for Jamie. But you’ll leave because of the goddamned house?”
For the first time he could remember, Boone was glad there were thousands of miles between him and Kate.
“I understood that you couldn’t leave there. I knew you had responsibilities and a life, and I...okay, I didn’t like it, but I understood. I was proud of what you’re doing. And then, when I figured out that I lo—then I thought, okay, living on two different continents isn’t my dream, but we could make it work. It would be worth it. But you were afraid. You said no. No. Even though I—”
She cradled Jamie close to her, rocking back and forth in swift, jerky motions that Boone was pretty sure provided no comfort to anyone.
“You know what, Boone? I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. Not anymore. I was willing to—but you threw it in my face. It’s not that you can’t do the full-time family thing. You won’t. You don’t want to even try. Maybe it’s because of the way you grew up, and if so, yeah, I’m sorry. But right now, I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
Shit. How had he messed this up so badly?
“I told you that I loved you. I told you that you’re a good father and I believed in you, but you refuse to believe me. Not about you, not about the house, not about anything that matters. Like Jamie. Or the future.” Her voice broke. “Or what we could have had.”
“Look, Kate, I’m sor—”
“I have to go.”
“Kate. Please.”
“No, Boone. I’m going. Your son needs attention and love, and I’m going to give it to him, because that’s what matters.” She shifted Jamie to her shoulder. “Go ahead and do what you want. I don’t care anymore.”
Before he could say anything else, she jabbed at the button to end the call.
Silence swelled to fill the room. Well, around him was silence. Inside him there was a frickin’ hurricane of words and tears and accusations.
And the sick, clear realization that he had destroyed the one part of Kate’s life that should have been the safest.
Her heart.