A Second Chance at Forever (16 page)

Angela’s tummy flip flopped, a riot of emotion washing through her as she followed him out onto the back deck. He squatted down in front of Mel to let Katie off his back. Angela bit her bottom lip, once again caught as she watched him. Not only did he obviously like children, but he appeared to be very good with them. That he was willing to act like a big kid himself said something huge about the kind of man he was.

One she found incredibly attractive. A man with a child was an alluring sight, but one who was actually good with them was downright sexy as sin.

She glanced down and rubbed a hand over her stomach. It told her a lot about what kind of father he’d be. That old familiar dream, the one she’d given up on halfway through her marriage to David, rose like a tide within her. She wanted a family, and Alex offered her one. She’d be a fool to let this opportunity get away from her.

More to the point, shouldn’t she at least give him a chance, instead of simply shutting the door in his face? Shouldn’t she find out what it was between them?

She looked up to find Alex had taken a seat in one of the lawn chairs. He leaned back, relaxed, his hands on the arms. Looking at him, her mind twisted off into another direction. The birthday celebration going on around them reminded her of the first night she’d met him at the club. The back deck was decorated with streamers and balloons. A
Happy Birthday!
banner strung across the railing. She recalled his friends had ordered him a lap dance that night, because it was supposed to have been his birthday. Standing there, she saw him as he’d been then, sitting in that black lounge chair. His words to her that night echoed through her thoughts.

My birthday’s not for another couple of months.

“When
is
your birthday, Alex?”

The minute the words left her mouth she wanted to suck them back. When Alex’s gaze snapped to hers, heat blazed up her neck and into her cheeks. The question gave her away, revealed her thoughts as surely as if she’d spoken them out loud. In front of her family, no less. Oh, her, and her big mouth....

To make matters worse, desire and recognition flared in Alex’s eyes, the memory rising between them. A night neither one of them could forget. She remembered only too well him telling her exactly that.

“Two weeks,” he said.

“Got any plans?” she asked, to cover the need that sparked in her belly. Like an ember stoked into a tiny flame. One that if given the right amount of fuel could consume her.

Alex didn’t respond the way she’d anticipated, however. The expression drained from his face, his features going stony. Tension rose tight and prickly in the air around them.

Brock looked up from the grill.

Alex shook his head and rose from his seat, his jaw tight, a stiff set to his shoulders that had unease settling in her stomach. “No.” Then he turned to Brock. “Beer in the fridge?”

Brock nodded. Without so much as a glance in her direction, Alex moved around her, stepping through the sliding glass doors into the darkness of the house.

Angela turned to Brock, fear and confusion pounding in her breast. “I said something wrong.”

Her brother shook his head. “It’s his story. He should be the one to tell you.”

She nodded, then turned to stare at the doorway Alex had just disappeared through. She swallowed hard and followed after him.

****

Alex pulled two brown bottles out of the fridge and closed the door. Turmoil twisted in his stomach as he turned to set the beer on the counter and moved to the drawers in search of an opener. Being there, spending time with Brock’s family, was a double edged sword that had hit him the instant Katie had launched herself into his arms.

He wanted to dive into the festivities, to lose himself in the playful atmosphere, but watching them all hurt like hell. Being here reminded him of all the things he missed, a piece of himself gone forever. How many times had Hailey thrown herself at his legs when he came home from work every night? How many times had they taken a picnic into Central Park?

All thoughts that wanted to rip his chest open. He’d done well at hiding the pain, at ignoring it. Or so he’d thought, until Angela asked the one question he was trying not to think about.

Her innocent query provided a firm reminder of the anniversary he wasn’t looking forward to. She reminded him that as much as he enjoyed her company, as much as he wanted to be with her, he’d simply been running for the last few weeks from all those things he didn’t want to think about anymore.

All of which made him wonder what the hell he was doing. He’d had way too much time last night to lie in bed pondering his decision. He’d asked Angela to marry him. It surprised him how much he wanted that, how much he wanted to sink his hands into everything she and those babies represented.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, as he’d lain in the semi darkness, watching the moonlight play across the textured ceiling of the hotel room, the old familiar guilt had begun to creep up on him. It left a hollow ache in his chest. The looming anniversary reminded him that a little over seven years ago he’d said vows. Was he only kidding himself to think he was ready to say them again with someone else?

“I said something wrong.”

At the sound of her voice, he looked up to find Angela in the kitchen. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, uncertainty forming a crease between her brows. It didn’t surprise him that she’d followed, but he had no idea what to say to her. Or how.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Did she have any idea how much he needed her right then? How much he wanted her? He longed to hold her and soothe her obvious worry, to seek the comfort he found in those arms. But he wasn’t sure anymore that he had the right to. Not when he felt like this.

He shook his head. “It’s not you, Ang.”

She stepped further into the room, her steps slow and hesitant, as if she expected him to ask her to leave. “It has something to do with your birthday.”

He nodded, knew in his heart he ought to tell her the truth, to share the story with her, but wondered if he’d even be able to get the words out.

He wondered if he ought to share it at all. Was it fair to lay his burden on her?

Here he was, back to square one, back to where he’d been the night he met her on that stage. Yearning to move forward, but uncertain if he had the right. Uncertain if he even knew how. Still trying to deal with the overwhelming guilt that refused to release his heart.

Angela took another step into the kitchen, her subtle, floral scent filling the room, swirling around his head. Alex found the words tumbling from his mouth anyway. He needed her to hear them, to lay his wound at her feet and pray she’d accept him.

“The driver that struck them hit the car on the passenger side at a hundred miles an hour. His blood alcohol was four times the legal limit.” He couldn’t stop watching her face as he spoke, waiting for a reaction he wasn’t sure he wanted to see, yet taking strength in her presence. Half afraid if he took his gaze off hers, the pain would eat him alive. “Hailey had been spared. She was killed instantly. Karen lived for about three months in a coma, until one day her body just gave out. The day she died…happened to be my last birthday. I won’t be celebrating this year. Probably not next year either. It just feels wrong.”

As those exact memories flooded his mind, the pain washed over him. Alex lowered his gaze to the floor. All those nights of sitting in the hospital by Karen’s bedside, hoping beyond hope she’d wake up.

The pain of leaving every morning before dawn, knowing another night had passed and she hadn’t.

He couldn’t bring himself to share this particular wound with Angela. It didn’t seem fair, to set that on her.

She closed the distance between them, her sandaled feet with her pink painted toenails arriving in his line of sight. She stood there, silent, for a moment. The pull of her gaze called to him, too strong to deny. When he finally looked up, the understanding in her eyes, the echo of pain, knocked the breath from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She hesitated, then stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist, pressing her soft body against his, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Everything inside of him sighed with relief. He hadn’t realized how very much he’d needed to hold her, to be held, until her forehead pressed into the curve of his neck. His arms closed around her and tightened of their own accord. For a moment, Alex allowed himself to accept the comfort she offered.

How long they stood that way he had no idea. Time ceased to exist, to matter. All that did was her warmth, her scent, the strength of her hold on his waist. For that extended moment in time, he lost himself in the woman.

Eventually she pulled back to peer at him. Alex forced himself to release her enough to meet her gaze.

“You shouldn’t spend that weekend alone, Alex.” She laid a hand against chest. “You should fly out. Spend time out here, with us. I know your mother wouldn’t want you to spend it alone either.”

His heart twisted. She had no idea how tempting that was. It was one thing for Brock and Mel to offer. He’d expected it. The day Karen had died, they’d offered to come and stay with him. He couldn’t take them up on it then, and he couldn’t take them up on it now either. They meant well, but it would make him feel too much like the depressing third wheel that he was.

Angela, however….

The thought of losing himself in her instead of the damned memories was almost too good to refuse.

But he couldn’t do that.

He reached up, unable to resist touching her, and stroked his fingers over her chin. “You have no idea how tempting that is. I need you in a way that scares the hell out of me. But my head’s not going to be in a good place. To be honest, I don’t think that’s fair to you. You deserve better than someone who’s thinking of someone else, Ang.”

She deserved his undivided attention. He wouldn’t be able to give that to her.

“I don’t expect you to forget her, Alex. Or not talk about her. She was your wife. I’d find it more disturbing if you
didn’t
miss her.” Her voice softened. “Come back for your birthday. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

Alex shook his head. “I appreciate the gesture, Ang. More than I can tell you. But I need to do this one on my own. I can’t lay this on you. It wouldn’t feel right.” He took her hands in his, kissed the palms one by one, then gently extricated himself from her embrace.

Turning to the counter, he picked up the two beer bottles then made his way back outside with everyone else. It was better this way. He needed time to get his head on straight. They were having babies, yes, and he would be everything they needed him to be. He’d loved being a father. He also couldn’t deny he wanted Angela. But could he give her the love he knew she deserved? Was he ready to give her his heart? Karen would want him to move on, he knew that. She wouldn’t want him putting his life on hold forever. He’d said vows once, though, and meant them. Something deep inside kept insisting he wasn’t dead yet. This looming anniversary forced him to face the fact that despite knowing all of this, the thought of wanting to marry again still had him consumed with guilt.

No, as much as he wanted to be with her, he refused to subject Angela to that.

****

Several hours later, Angela stood in the back door, watching the scene outside. Having helped Brock clean up the kitchen, she’d been headed out onto the back deck when the commotion in the yard caught her attention. Alex was down in the grass with the three kids. It had been an all out water war since dinner ended an hour ago. All three kids were soaked to the skin, their clothing and hair plastered to their bodies. The two oldest, Katie and Braden, had ganged up on the youngest, four-year-old Seth, soaking him relentlessly with huge, brightly colored plastic guns. Judging by the look of Alex’s dry clothing, he hadn’t been there long.

As she watched, Alex knelt down behind Seth. Arms around him, he helped the small boy aim a water gun almost as big as he was and return fire. Braden and Katie squealed and ran, both giggling, behind the tall oak tree several feet away.

Just as Seth and Alex gave each other triumphant high fives, Brock came to stand beside her in the doorway.

“He’s good with them,” she said, without looking at her brother.

“He’s a good father.”

The hint in her brother’s voice was all too obvious. Angela wondered what Alex had told him.

She darted a glance at Brock, her stomach flipping, unsure quite how her brother would take the news. “He asked me to marry him.”

Brock didn’t so much as flinch.

“I’m not surprised. Alex is a straight up kind of guy.” She felt rather than saw Brock turn his attention to her. “What’d you say?”

“No.” She bit her lip. The decision had weighed heavily on her. She knew Alex’s proposal had come from a good place, an honest place. She had to admit, if only to herself, maybe he’d been right. They
were
good together.

But did she want to get married again? Take that risk all over again, knowing it could end the exact same way? Knowing he might never love her?

Except watching him now, playing with the kids, she saw a side of Alex she hadn’t expected. He was good with them. More to the point, watching him told her he’d be a good father to
their
babies as well.

She lowered her gaze, rubbed a hand over the soft swell of her stomach, guilt settling like an ache in her chest. Had she made the right decision? By holding out for love was she being selfish? Shouldn’t she be thinking of them and not herself? Being married to Alex wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.

She lifted her gaze, turned back to the scene unfolding out in the yard. It was three against one now; the kids had all turned on Alex. He stood with his back to the tree, wielding two small water guns, one in each hand, his face lit up with joy.

So different from the man who’d stood in the kitchen two hours ago. As she watched him, her mind replayed the look on his face. Her heart ached all over again.