Chapter 21

The shower was running when I opened my eyes the next morning.

A brief memory of Mac carrying me back to my bed sometime during the night slipped into my mind.

The bed was still warm beside me, indicating not only that he’d slept next to me, but also that he hadn’t been up for long. I rolled over and immediately pulled to a dead stop. The room was spinning again, and bile wormed its way up my throat. I gauged the time it would take for me to run to the guest bathroom because mine was occupied, and there was no way I could make it without a mishap. Thankfully, the shower shut off right then.

Frayne appeared in the doorway a moment later, a towel slung low on his hips. The reality I was truly sick hit home when I didn’t even feel a twinge in my girlie parts at the hot, wet sight of him. All that black, swirly hair trailing down from his pecs to under the towel, his chiseled abs, those defined biceps, none of those had any effect on me.

Well, maybe a little, but it was outweighed by the queasiness.

“Morning. How are you feeling?”

“You done?” I surprised myself I was even able to get that much out.

He squinted at me and began to cross to the bed. I shot up and sprinted past him and made it to the bathroom before mortifying myself.

There’s nothing sexy or even mildly appealing about someone retching. I hadn’t had the forethought—or time—to shut the door, but I was still surprised when a hand, not my own, held back the hair from my face, and another rubbed down my back as I emptied my stomach of buckets of bile.

After what seemed like eternity, I sat back on my haunches and dropped my head to my hands. Tears streamed down my face as I panted for air, a sour, metallic taste coating my tongue.

“Here.” A wet washcloth appeared before me. “Wash your face, then you can rinse your mouth with cold water.”

I pressed the cloth against my eyes, the coolness of it refreshing, then swiped it down my face.

“Now swish this around in your mouth but don’t swallow. It might come right back up again.”

The cup of cold water went a long way in killing the terrible taste in my mouth.

I handed the glass and the cloth back, but I couldn’t look at him. Humiliation bolted through me. I don’t do vulnerable well. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get you back in bed.” Strong, able, comforting arms lifted me.

“I can walk,” I said, secretly relishing the fact I didn’t have to.

“I know. But this is easier.”

Once I was settled back under the covers, Mac felt my forehead.

“No fever. That’s good.” He told me he was going to get dressed, then bring me some tea and the crackers Colleen had delivered yesterday. I slipped back into sleep and woke several hours later to find the crackers at my bedside along with a bottled water and a note written in Frayne’s precise block print.

If you’re still nauseated when you wake up, try to eat a few of these and drink some water. It’ll help.

I wasn’t feeling sick, just empty and hollow. The crackers tasted like heaven.

I sat up and dangled my feet over the side of the bed. No dizzies. I felt grungy, though, so I headed for the shower. The hot water was divine.

Twenty minutes later, washed, dressed in new pjs, and feeling much better, I found Frayne once again at my dining room table, his laptop open and his glasses one nose twitch away from falling off.

My heart turned over at the sight of him. Try though I had, I couldn’t fight the fact I was in love with him. Yes, his moods were mercurial, he was a bit of a loner, and he carried so much emotional baggage around with him he should have been hunchbacked. Add in the fact that he wasn’t a fan of what I did for a living, and a future together didn’t appear bright. But he was also kind, thoughtful, and caring. I didn’t have to add sexy and gorgeous because those were evident. I wanted to tell him what was in my heart, show him how much I felt for him.

But I was still afraid.

He glanced up and smiled when he found me. “I heard the shower go on. I figured you were feeling better.”

I came and sat in the chair next to him. “I am. Thanks for…before. I hate being sick, but I really hate being sick in front of someone. It’s…well, mortifying doesn’t seem strong enough a word.”

“I had enough of my own mortifying moments when I was drinking. Believe me, I understand.”

“Mac, I—” I stopped because I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to.

Bless Nanny. Her voice loomed loud and clear in my head as if she was standing right beside me.

Gird your loins, Number One, and tell the darlin’ man what’s in your heart. You’ve a talent with words and such, able to convey your thoughts concisely. Use that talent now.

“Cathy? What’s wrong?” He took my hand and worried the knuckles across it. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

The endearment gave me hope. “Nothing’s wrong. I want to tell you something, and I’m trying to figure out how to do it the right way.”

“I have a hard time believing anything you tell me would be in the wrong way.”

“I hope you still feel that way when I’m done.”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to one side. “I’m listening.”

I swallowed and then took a breath. “When you left, I was hurt. Hurt by everything you said about me being a lawyer. But more. I thought, I felt, there was…something between us. Something good. Something, well, special. But you left without a backward glance, and it had me second-guessing everything.”

“Again, I’m sorry about that. I should have trusted you enough to tell you what happened, but I didn’t and for that, I can’t apologize enough.” He reached over and took my other hand and brought both to his lips, dragging a kiss across them. “And what we had, what we have, is special, don’t doubt that. Ever.” His eyes were intense, the blue turning a stark, clear, crystal. “If I could have a do-over for that day, believe me, I would have done everything differently.”

“How?”

“First, I would have told you why I was leaving, but then I would have explained I was going to leave anyway because when I write, I isolate myself and devote all my time and effort to getting the work done. It’s easier for me, somehow.” His lips pulled up. “It was always a bone of contention with Cheyanne. She called me selfish more times than I can remember.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish.” I shrugged. “It’s just how you work.”

His smile broadened, then he turned serious again. “I should also have told you one more thing before I left. One important thing. Well, two really.”

“What?”

“One, I was coming back as soon as the book was done.”

“Why?” Goodness, I was turning into some kind of monosyllabic enquirer.

“Because of the second thing I should have told you.” He paused and, with a simple tug, had me in his lap. He cupped my face and held my gaze prisoner. The shadows were gone, replaced by such a well of emotion my breath caught.

“I love you, Cathy. With everything I am and everything in me.”

This time, words, monosyllabic or otherwise, wouldn’t form. Tears did, though, and I couldn’t pull them back. Mac captured one with a soft thumb swipe across my cheek.

“I think I fell in love with you the first day at the historical society lunch. You were so strong, so commanding, so gorgeous. The way you dealt with the personalities around that table told me you were a woman who stood her ground, who didn’t suffer fools. It was captivating to watch. Every time we were together after and as I came to know you better, I realized what a warm, loving, loyal, and smart woman you are. Your principles and ideals make you someone to be admired. Your love of family, of justice, of common sense, all of it, combined into a woman who’s captured my heart, mind, and soul. I certainly wasn’t looking to fall in love when I arrived here. But I left head over heels for you. I finished the book in record time because I wanted, I needed, to get back to you. I’m empty and lost without you. You’ve made me feel alive when I never thought I would be again.”

He took a deep breath and laid his forehead against mine.

“I know I’m not the easiest guy to be around. I get lost in my head, I don’t share what I’m feeling, and I don’t take the feelings of others into consideration when I’m working. But because of you, I want to be better, act better. I’ve never thought I could before. With you, I want to.”

“I think you’re pretty perfect the way you are.” I swiped a hand across my wet face.

“I’m not perfect, not be a long shot.” He shook his head. “I know you can’t possibly feel for me what I feel for you. I haven’t, after all, been the most gracious and loving of men to you. But I want to be a part of your life if you’ll have me. For today, tomorrow, for however many tomorrows come after that. I love you, Cathy. I can’t imagine a future without you.” He pulled back and trailed a finger down my jaw.

“What does that mean, Mac? The future? My life and my future are here in Heaven. Yours, in New York.”

“My life is anywhere you are,” he said without a pause. “I can write anywhere as long as I have a laptop. And you,” he added. “All my necessary stuff is out in my car. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was coming back to you. And I’m staying.”

“You are?”

“I am. Know it. Now, I’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time telling you what I feel and what I want. What do you want?”

The truth has always been such an important facet of my life, so that’s how I answered him: truthfully.

“You. Just you. For today, for tomorrow, and for every tomorrow that comes after.” I threw my arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Mac tugged on my arms, trying to break my hold. With a laugh in his voice, he said, “I want to kiss you. Let go.”

Laughing as well, I said, “I want to kiss you, too, but I don’t want to give you whatever’s making me sick.”

“I’m willing to chance infection if it’s from you,” he said.

I snorted. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard. You should be forced to turn in your writer’s card for that.”

Shifting, I looked him square in the eye.

Mac kissed my nose and grinned. “I’ll come up with something better. I’ve got all the time in the world as long as I have you.”

Now that line wasn’t cheesy at all.

****

One week later…

I was standing in the kitchen, humming, while getting dinner ready.

Goodness, when was the last time I’d actually hummed? Let’s be real here: years.

I couldn’t help it, though. I was happy. So gloriously happy.

Mac had become a fixture in my life, my bed, even my closets. Knowing he loved me was amazing. But the way he showed me in the little things he did each and every day was astounding. Because he was an early riser, he had tea ready for me when I got out of the shower each day. I never had to worry about mooching food from Maureen anymore because I’d forgotten to grocery shop. Mac went to the store when we needed provisions and had proven himself a more than adequate cook.

Tonight, though, I was in charge of dinner, and I wanted it to be special because I had some news to share.

The garage door sounded, and when I peeked out the window, Mac was pulling his car into the space.

He came in while I was turning the turkey, the recipe courtesy of Maureen.

“Hey,” I said with a smile. “Where’d you go? I came home from the doctor’s office, and you weren’t here.”

“Had to run out for something.” He kissed my nose and then stretched over me to sniff the pot. “That smells fabulous. What is it?”

“Mo’s cranberry turkey recipe.” I slid my nose up along the column of his throat and did my own inhaling. He smelled way better than the turkey.

“Why don’t you take your coat off? It should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

I glanced over my shoulder. His bomber jacket was a little bulky, and he was holding his arms at a funny angle, almost as if he was cradling his stomach.

“What do you have under your coat?”

He smiled.

“Mac?”

“Hear me out, okay, before you react? Promise?”

“Why don’t I like the way that sounds?”

He shifted his hands a little, and a strange sound whispered up from his jacket.

“What was that?”

“I got you a present. Well, it’s really for the both of us.” He slowly slid the zipper on his jacket down. A furry black head popped up and out from the opening he’d made.

“Oh. My. God.” I shoved my hands out and stroked the little head.

With a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon, Mac unzipped his jacket, and together we cradled the puppy.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” he asked.

The black coat was shiny and thick, the face and snout typical of the Labrador breed.

“Where did you get her?”

“Shelby. I called over there a few days ago and asked for a recommendation for where I could adopt one. This little girl turned eight weeks yesterday. Perfect timing.”

“She’s so soft.” I stroked her fur and was rewarded with a sandpaper-tongue kiss across my knuckles. With tears in my eyes and love filling my heart, I looked up into his beaming face and said, “Thank you.”

He bent and kissed me, the pup wedged between us.

“We can call her Georgie since she’s a girl,” he said. “She’s our first baby.”

“Um, no.”

Lord, would I ever get tired of seeing that adorable head tilt?

“You don’t like the name? I thought—”

“It’s not the name. You know I went to the doctor’s today because I can’t shake this stupid virus?”

“Yeah. I’m glad you did because I’ve been worried.”

“No need to be.”

“But you didn’t feel well again this morning. If you don’t have a virus or a bug, what then? An ulcer?” His eyes narrowed.

“No. But the doctor was concerned because I’ve been sick for so long, so she did blood work, took a urine sample, routine stuff like that.” I pulled the now-squirming puppy into my arms. In a heartbeat, she calmed.

“And? What did she find out?”

“I was going to tell you this at dinner, but since you brought this little beauty home with you, you should know she’s not our first baby, but our second.”

His face went through about fifteen different expressions in a few moments. His eyes went wide, and he looked down at my belly, then back up to my face, and then my belly again.

“Cath—?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Then, “How?”

“The usual way.” I laughed and kissed Georgie’s snout.

“You know what I mean.” He pulled me into his arms and rested his chin on my head. “We’ve been careful every time.”

“Not every time. There was that once by the fire…According to my dates, that’s about right.”

I pushed back a bit so I could read his face. “Are you…how are you about this?”

“So happy I can’t think straight.”

“Really?”

He kissed me long and slow as an answer.

When we came up for air, my eyes were unfocused.

“I’m due in November.”

“And everything is…okay? With you? With the baby?”

“So far, so good.” I rolled my eyes. “Since I’m over thirty-five, there are a few risks involved. But I’m not worried. Not in the least.”

Mac kissed my nose. “I can’t tell you how happy I am about this.”

I could echo his sentiments. I was finally going to be a mother, and the father was the best man I’d ever known.

Mac let go of me and took a step back. “I had a big romantic scene all plotted in my head about how I’d do this and when, where. But I don’t want to wait because right about now seems perfect.”

“Do what?”

I almost dropped the pup when Mac took one of my hands and dipped down to one knee.

“Mac.” Georgie startled, opened her eyes, and licked her chops, then went right back to sleep. In a much quieter tone I said, “What are you doing?”

“I want to do this the right way, say everything I’ve been thinking of for the past few weeks, so let me, okay? Let me get it all out.”

I cradled the pup even closer with one hand.

“Cathy, I feel like everything that’s happened in my life, every good thing, every bad, every choice I’ve made, every decision, has led me to you, here and now, at this moment. And I’d gladly go through it all again if it ended in this exact same spot. With you. I never envisioned I’d find someone to love as much as I love you. In all honesty, I didn’t think I had it in me to love anyone to the degree I love you. You gave me that. You let me see what love really is. With your honesty, your tenacity, your willingness to forgive, you opened my heart and showed me what love looks like. What it feels like.”

As he pulled something from his pocket, tears streamed down my face, plopping onto the sleeping puppy.

“I told you once, for you I want to be a better man, a man worthy of your love, deserving of the kind of woman you are. And I want to show you I’m that man. My soul, my heart, everything I am and could be, belongs to you. I belong to you.”

He opened his fist and held up a ring that blinded me with its brilliance.

“Cathleen Anne, will you marry me? Will you make a life with me? Walk through the good, the bad, and everything in between with me? Put up with me and all my flaws and love me, now and for the rest of our days?”

I tugged on his hand to pull him up. When we were standing toe to toe, the sleeping—now snoring—puppy wedged between us, I kissed him and said, “Yes. A million times yes. My soul, my heart, everything I am and could be, belongs to you, too. I belong to you.”

After a long, thorough kiss, Mac trailed a finger across my jaw and smiled. “I love you,” he said. “So much.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He shook his head and placed a kiss on my forehead.

Georgie took that moment to open her eyes. With a quick eye flick between us, she let out a series of baby barks and then tried to lick each of us at the same time, squirming madly, her back legs pumping.

Laughing, Mac declared, “I think she loves us, too.”

I let her run her tongue across my chin, then I held her up and looked straight into her soulful eyes.

“We love you, more.”