Matt paid the driver and walked toward the house, considerably worse for the wear of having replayed the argument over and over in his head while his whiskey sour sat untouched on the bar. Only when the front door was flung open before he reached it did he realize the house was blazing with lights, charged with intangible tensions.
“Matt!” Ainsley grabbed his arm and jerked him inside. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your cell phone? What were you doing out so late? Are you hurt? Were you in the car? What happened to you?”
He sobered quickly from what little alcohol he’d actually consumed. “Slow down, Baby. I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“There was an accident, just this side of the bridge.”
Fear gripped him. “Peyton?” He could barely breathe the question, couldn’t find the words to ask.
“At the hospital,” Ainsley answered. “Ivan’s with her. That’s all I know. The police called here first, but all Frederico could understand was that they wanted a phone number…so he gave them mine. We thought you were in the car, too, and that you must have been thrown out in the crash, although I told the police you always wear your seat belt and I didn’t see how you could have just disappeared. They’re probably out there searching for you still. We’ll have to call and let them know you showed up.” She paused for breath, barely. “Where were you anyway? And why was Peyton driving home alone?”
Matt stopped listening. “Where’s your car?” he asked.
She divined his intention and grabbed the car keys before he could. “You’re in no condition to drive,” she said, running ahead of him outside to where her car was parked. “Get in.”
The tires couldn’t have turned more than three times before Ainsley was at him again with the questions. “What happened, Matt? How did you get to Danfair? Do you realize it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning? Why was Peyton out so late? Was she with you? Why weren’t you with her? Oh, how could this have happened? You can tell me, Matt. You can tell me anything.”
“Women keep saying that to me,” he said, because he was scared, because the thought flitted through his mind and came out his mouth. Ainsley was scared, too, hence her babbling. He inhaled a shaky breath and made himself focus. “I don’t know what happened, Ainsley, except that she drove off without me. I guess she was heading back here, but I don’t know. She could have been going anywhere.”
“So you went out looking for her?”
He frowned. “No. I went back inside the restaurant and ordered a drink.”
“What restaurant?”
“The one where we had dinner.” His fingers drummed nervously on the armrest.
“Oh, you had dinner.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“No, you said you went looking for Peyton after she drove off without you.”
Sometimes he wondered if women ever actually listened to what a man said. “No, I said, she drove off in a huff and left me at the restaurant,” he repeated. “I went back inside and sat at the bar for a while, then I called a taxi and went home.”
“A huff?” Ainsley tossed a glance at him, gripped the wheel as if her life—or maybe Peyton’s—depended on it. “What did you do to put her in a huff?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped, feeling as guilty as sin. “Why does it have to be my fault?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Matt. Talk to me. For once in your life, let someone help you.”
He looked at her then, her gold hair muted in the darkness inside the car, her expression drawn taut with worry, and he wondered when she’d grown up and why it was difficult for him to accept that. He’d always thought he’d played the role of big brother just right, giving his siblings the proper amount of protective concern, telling them they had nothing to worry about, pretending he never felt weighted down with the responsibility he carried. But maybe he’d gotten that all wrong, too. Maybe Ainsley thought she’d been a burden to him. Maybe she’d grown up believing her role was to make him smile and laugh, to pretend she had no worries so she never added to his. Maybe she’d absorbed a message from him that he’d never meant to send. “What did you think of me when you were younger, Baby?”
Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I’ve always thought you were wonderful. You know that.”
“But what else? The truth, Ains. Not just what you think I want to hear.”
The frown softened and she chewed on her lower lip for a minute or two while she contemplated the answer. “I thought you were strong. And handsome. I thought you were wise and a little stern. I thought you never laughed enough. I thought you didn’t really like to talk very much and that you always had something important on your mind.” She paused, cast him a worried glance. “But mostly I thought you were sad and often lonely, even when we were with you.”
So much for thinking no one had ever seen past his facade. “And now?”
“Now? I think you’re still sad. I think you’re still lonely. I think you have a chance to change that. But I don’t know if you’re going to take it.”
What if that chance was gone? Snatched back before he could claim it. Now, Matt, you’ve lost me, too. Tears ached behind his eyes and gathered into a knot of pain in his throat. He swallowed hard and turned his head toward the window and the darkness beyond it.
Ainsley took a hand from the wheel to touch him with comfort. “She’s going to be all right, Matt. She is.”
She had to be. He couldn’t bear it if she wasn’t. “The baby,” he said then, suddenly realizing what else was at stake. “Is the baby…?” He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t ask, couldn’t believe he might lose what he’d only so recently realized he truly wanted.
Ainsley bit her lip again. “There’s some concern about the baby, Matt. That’s all I know.”
The ache became unbearable. Fear seized his heart and crushed it in a vise of terrifying possibilities. “I love her,” he said, not knowing until that moment that he did.
Ainsley gently squeezed his arm. “I know you do. After all, I am a matchmaker.”
PEYTON CAME AWAKE slowly, aware of an overall ache that seemed to have settled deep into every muscle of her body. Her eyes drifted open to take in the sterile drabness of a hospital room. The starchy bleached linens felt cool beneath the exploratory movements of her fingertips. There was a hum of machinery somewhere nearby, a rustle of movement beyond her vision. She remembered a doctor in green scrubs who’d asked her name and what day it was. She remembered telling him—or someone—she was pregnant. Five months, she thought she’d said. And then…The memories blurred again at that point, blipped off into some distant galaxy of forgetfulness.
Her hand slid to her stomach, searching and thankfully finding the firm bulge that meant the baby was still there. She pushed at it and felt the flutter of his kick. He was okay. She sighed and turned her head on the pillow.
Matt was asleep in a chair, pulled up close to the bed, his head propped on one hand but still drooping toward his chest. He’d have one heck of a pain in his neck when he awoke, she thought. Just looking at him made her feel better, so she lay there and watched him sleep while the baby moved inside her. She must have dozed off again, because when she opened her eyes for the second time, Matt was standing by the window, looking out at a sunny day. “Hello,” she said.
He turned and she saw the haggard lines on his face, the worry in his eyes. “Hello,” he answered softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I think. A little sore. The baby’s okay, too.”
Crossing to the bed, he picked up her hand and held it tight in his. “They’re still waiting on a couple of tests, but the doctors seem to think everything looks normal so far. You have a slight concussion, some bruising, but no broken bones. Thank God you were in the Mercedes and the air bags worked the way they’re supposed to.”
She tried to remember but couldn’t quite do it. “Was I in an accident?”
“Another car hit you. The police believe the other driver had had one drink too many, but he passed the Breathalyzer, so he was only cited for speeding. They said you were going a little too fast, as well. You were lucky, Peyton. It could easily have been much worse. Much worse.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t feel alarm or even a great deal of concern. Probably the bliss of medication. Or simply knowing neither she nor the baby had been seriously hurt. “Why was I driving?” she asked. “Do you know?”
“You don’t remember driving off and leaving me at the restaurant?”
That sounded vaguely familiar. “How did you get home?”
“Took a cab.” He squeezed her hand, looked distraught. “You scared the life out of me, Peyton. I am never going to argue with you again. Ever.”
“That seems a little drastic, Matt. Some of our arguments have been very…stimulating.”
He sank into the chair, never easing the security of his grip on her hand. “This one very nearly cost me my wife and daughter.”
“Son,” she responded automatically. “And we’re both okay, Matt. You can stop looking so despondent. Everything’s fine. I’m not going to die. I barely even have a headache. If you keep this up, they’ll have to bring a bed in here for you.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll just climb into your bed.”
“Now that sounds like the man I married.”
He dropped his gaze, brought it back again to meet hers. “I hoped it might sound a little like the man you love.”
Her breath caught at the hope that suddenly blossomed inside her, banishing the ache. “It sounded a lot like him, if you want to know the truth.”
“It’s time for truth between us, Peyton. No more pretending. No more hiding. I’m in love with you. It’s been coming on so gradually, I didn’t even know it until last night when you told me I’d lost you, too. And then, when I found out you’d been in an accident…” His voice broke and his hold on her hand—and her heart—tightened. “I thought I might have lost you and the baby and I…I knew then that you’re all I really care about. You’re all that matters. Without you, without the future we backed our way into, I’d have nothing but a sad, lonely life.”
She brushed her hand across his unshaven cheek. “You have a wonderful family, Matt. A job you love. And you have me…forever if you want.”
A smile tucked into the corners of his mouth. “I want,” he said simply. “I love you. I love making love to you. I love that I’m married to you. And I love that we’re having a baby. Together.”
“That’s a lot of love,” she said, overcome with emotion. “Luckily, it happens that I feel the same way. You make me happy, Matt. Happier than I ever thought I could be.”
He leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her lips. “Ditto. That goes double for me. However, there is one thing I need to clear up. It may change your view of our future.”
He sighed. “I hope you mean that, because the one thing I don’t love about my life is my job. You were right when you said if I didn’t want to make the tough choices, I should step aside. I should have done it a long time ago. I probably should never have taken the position with the Foundation at all.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked, realizing that must be the source of his sadness, the reason he felt he was always in danger of disappointing his parents. “Then what are you doing there?”
“Fulfilling my birthright, Peyton. I’m the first-born son of the firstborn son. I’m the Jonathan of my generation. The Foundation is everything to my parents. I thought it was my duty to make it everything to me, as well. It never seemed as if I had a choice.”
“Do you have some other career in mind…or are you going to take a little time to think about what you want?”
“Promise you won’t laugh, but I’ve always thought I’d make a good teacher.”
She did laugh, but only with happiness. “You’ll make a wonderful teacher,” she said. “I think that’s a great idea. My mother will absolutely hate it.”
He grinned. “Maybe she’ll come around in time. My parents may not like it much, either.”
“Maybe they’ll come back and run the Foundation.”
“No. I expect Miranda will step in. She’s always secretly yearned for the opportunity, I think, and she’ll be great at it. Much better than I am.”
“I imagine she’ll have a lot less trouble dealing with Jessica.”
“Which must mean I’ll have a lot less trouble with you. If we don’t have Jessica to stir up a fuss, what will we find to argue about?”
“Don’t worry,” Peyton assured him. “We’ll think of something.”
Raising her hand to his lips, he breathed a sigh of relief into her skin. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”
She smiled as she felt the baby move. Taking Matt’s hand, she laid it over her stomach and watched with pride and so much love as his eyes widened when he felt the kick.
“Wow,” he said. “She’s got quite a foot on her.”
“Yes,” Peyton replied. “He certainly does.”
Matt kissed her again. “If it is a boy, we’re not naming him Jonathan.”
“Hmm,” she said. “We’ll see.” Then she pulled his head down, lured his lips back to hers and lost herself in the sweet taste of happiness.