All of My Love (8 page)

His narrowed gaze swung from her to the floor. “I needed to vent.”

“Be careful and don’t pull a muscle.” She lowered her glasses. “I’ll get the ladder and start sanding the cabinets since you’re already finished in that area.”

“Maybe I should do that,” he said.

Stella paused. “Why? I’ve done it before.”

He hesitated. “That was a long time ago.”

Since he seemed more concerned with her safety than hurting her, she smiled. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re the same age, and when we worked on this house together, I never quit until you did.”

His eyes intense, Paul leaned on the sledgehammer. “That’s why I didn’t understand. You never walked away from anything you started. I never expected you to walk away from me and the children.”

Pain squeezed her heart. “I was a fool. I tried to trick you into wanting me and ended up losing you instead. I paid a heavy price for that lesson. I’m not walking away again—unless you ask me to.”

He straightened and picked up the sledgehammer. “Be careful with that ladder.”

*   *   *

Paul wouldn’t have believed it, but he and Stella worked well together. They didn’t talk much, but like last night when they walked back to the hotel, there was no tension. He’d slowed down removing the tile to keep an eye on her while she was on the ladder sanding the top cabinet.

After he moved on to other chores, he heard her humming a couple of times and remembered she liked to hum while doing chores. Her voice was as pitiful as his, but that hadn’t stopped them when they were young from dancing and singing to their heart’s content when they were dating, and then married.

Paul paused from unscrewing the bolt from beneath the sink in the hall bath. His heart hadn’t been content in a long time.

“Paul?”

He spun around to see Stella in the doorway. She was frowning.

He came to his feet. “What is it?”

She bit her lower lip, a sign she was nervous. “If-if you take out the sink and commode in the hall bath, the only one left is in the other room.”

His mouth tightened. The “other room” was their old bedroom. He didn’t plan on going in there until he absolutely had to. He’d forgotten because he’d wanted to keep busy so he wouldn’t keep thinking about her. Annoyed with himself, he knelt and began tightening up the bolt.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for lunch,” she said.

“I need to finish this first,” he told her.

“And then it will be something else.” She folded her arms. “You were always a hardworking man. I can’t imagine any McBride working harder.”

He didn’t want her words to mean anything to him, but they did. He’d wanted her and his children to be proud of him.

“Come on before I wrestle that wrench from you like last—” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Paul knew exactly why she’d made the fast retreat. When they were married, she often became annoyed with him because he’d always say he’d be there in a minute but it could turn into an hour. One evening at dinnertime he’d been working on fixing a leaky faucet in their bathroom and she’d tried to wrestle the wrench away from him. They’d ended up making love on the floor. Eight and a half months later, Duncan, their oldest, was born. He’d always given her a red rose and chocolates on Mother’s Day afterward because he’d always remember the softness of her body, the sweetness of his mouth that night.

He blew out a breath. He wasn’t sure he could be a part of Faith’s Mother’s Day celebration. Too many memories haunted him in this house. They’d had some good times, but apparently not enough. He pushed to his feet and went to the kitchen. Stella sat on a little folding chair in front of a card table. She wasn’t eating. She didn’t say anything while he washed his hands beneath the faucet. The water landed in a bucket since the sinks were gone. The Corian countertop included the sinks and was one solid piece. He took a seat at the table.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He blessed the food and picked up his roast beef sandwich. “No harm done. Eat. We don’t want to get behind schedule.”

She picked up her sandwich and took a small bite. “How do you think we’re doing?”

“Better than I thought,” he answered.

“Us or the remodeling?” she asked, her gaze on him.

“Both.” He picked up his bottle of tea and unscrewed the top. “It’s a good thing the people who bought the house never moved in, and Brandon snapped it up when it became available again.”

She placed her sandwich on the plate. “By the time Faith told me it was on the market it was sold.”

“That’s the way I wanted it.” He took a long swallow, ignoring the plastic cup filled with ice by his plate.

Stella unscrewed her bottle top and took a sip. “I would have bought it.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “You had already turned your back on it and us.”

“I thought I had, but apparently I hadn’t.” She sat the bottle on the table and glanced around the torn-up kitchen. “I thought of all the things we’d shared here before and after the children were born, and I didn’t want anyone else in our home. Selfish, I know, but I felt that way.” She gave her attention to him. “I’m happy that Faith and Brandon will live here.”

“Hopefully, their marriage will last,” he said, unsure if he wanted to hurt her or not.

She flinched, but she didn’t look away. “I know it will. Faith fights for what she wants. If she and Brandon have a problem, they’ll talk through it. They’ll make it.”

So she hadn’t tucked her head and gotten that shattered look on her face. So maybe she was stronger than when she’d left. At the moment, he wasn’t willing to give her the chance to step on his heart again for her to prove it. “Once lunch is over, I’ll pull the carpet from the living room and you finish sanding the cabinets. Brandon hired a man to pick up daily, so we’ll always have a relatively clean work area.”

Stella picked up her sandwich. “That was thoughtful of him.”

“Yes it was, and Faith has sense enough to appreciate him.” This time Paul knew he’d taken a dig at Stella.

She didn’t back down. “Yes, she does. Could it be because every time they’re together, he shows her how much she means to him?”

They stared across the small table at each other. Stella had gotten her own dig in, and it burrowed deep. Paul picked up his sandwich. They ate in silence. He was sure they were both thinking about what had been and the frightening but tantalizing possibility of trying again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

By Friday, they had one room left that they hadn’t touched: the master bedroom. Stella pulled up in front of the house shortly before eight. Paul’s truck wasn’t there. She wasn’t surprised.

She didn’t think either of them was ready to be inside the room where they’d shared so much love and, on the day their divorce was finalized, so much anger.

Her eyes closed to shut out the image of their last day, but she couldn’t. Although Faith knew her parents were having problems because Stella had moved out of the bedroom, she hadn’t known her mother had filed for divorce. Almost ready to graduate from college, working most of her free time at the hotel, and often staying there overnight, she hadn’t known her parents were living a lie.

Stella vividly recalled the morning she’d dressed and packed a small suitcase. Trevor had said to just bring herself. He’d buy her anything she needed. She’d declined his offer. To her, it sounded as if she was being bought. The day before she’d packed her other belongings and put them in storage until she could send for them. She hadn’t wanted Faith or Paul to have to deal with getting rid of her things.

Things
. She’d been worried about things when she should have been worried about her family. However, by then she’d become so entangled in Trevor’s smooth-talking web, she believed every word.

One thing she hadn’t done was be intimate with him. With the way Duncan’s first wife had cheated on him, Cameron’s fiancée leaving him at the altar, not to mention wanting Faith and her sons to still respect her, she’d been able to say no to Trevor and mean it.

Now she could allow herself to admit that she’d never been as sexually attracted to Trevor as she was to Paul. Intimacy was all right with Trevor, but she’d never felt cherished or loved during or afterward. Even though she and Paul had drifted apart, when they made love she’d felt like it mattered to him. Sadly, those times became further and further apart.

She jumped at the knock on her window. “Paul!”

“I stopped to get a cup of coffee. Pop the trunk.” A paper coffee cup in his hand, he went to the trunk.

Stella did as he asked. He removed the cooler and went up the walk.

He hadn’t greeted her. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions as to the reason why. Since their talk on Tuesday, there had been times he reverted to the old Paul and ignored her, but with each day he seemed to be more willing to try and be friends.

She grabbed her purse and got out of the car. Inside, she found him in the kitchen as usual. Only instead of working, he sipped his coffee.

“We accomplished a lot,” she said. The tile on the floor was gone and so were the countertops, the front doors of the cabinets, the sinks. The rest of the house—except the master bedroom, which hadn’t been touched—was just as bare. They’d elected to remove the carpet and not wait until after they painted. They’d sanded, polished, and stained the floors as well. “You did a fantastic job on the dining room hardwood floors. They shine like new.”

“If only it was that easy to bring back the luster to other things,” he said.

Her brow lifted. So not greeting her had been intentional. “No one would agree with you more. But you had the children.”

“And they saw their father turn into a drunk.” He slammed the cup on the wooden edge of the counter. “They saw me turn into a weakling. I blamed you for that, but it was my choice.”

She’d heard and ached for him and the children. Stella realized that she wasn’t over Paul once she left, but it was too late. “I’m sorry.”

“As they say, sorry don’t cut it.” He picked up the cup, squeezed. Coffee spilled over the sides. “Damn!”

She rushed to his side, taking his hand and turning the water on. “Hold still,” she demanded when he tried to move his hand away from the gushing water. “Be thankful I thought of bringing a bucket or we’d have to mop up water.” She snatched a paper towel and blotted his hand dry and inspected it. “I don’t see any redness. I have a package of mustard. I’ll rub it on.”

“No need.”

She frowned up at him. “There’s every need. You were burned.”

He glanced away. “It wasn’t hot.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then kissed his hand. He snatched it away and stumbled back. “I’m sorry. No, that’s a lie. I’m not sorry,” she said.

Paul glanced from his hand to her. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to and I’m tired of holding back when I want to touch you,” she said boldly. “It felt good being that close to you, taking care of you.”

He stared at her. She felt like sighing, instead she glanced around the kitchen again. “I called the appliance specialty store yesterday. The range hood is in, and so is the island. We can pick up everything we need to install them. Both can be delivered today and we can leave the bedroom for later.”

“We can’t install the range hood by ourselves,” Paul said. “It’s too heavy.”

“Faith gave me the name of a couple of men who could help with that and positioning the island,” Stella told him. “Should I call and have the pieces delivered?”

“No.”

Stella’s heart sank, but she refused to give up. “We need to keep working if we plan to finish on time.”

“I know.” He stuck his hand into the pocket of his well-worn jeans. “I wasn’t saying no to the delivery. I meant we need to get what we need to install them first, then call.”

“I’ll drive.” She started out of the kitchen.

“I’ll drive.” Paul pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’d like to get there before they close.”

“Funny, McBride,” Stella said, but she was smiling. He wasn’t frowning at her any longer. “Cameron got his speeding from you.”

He locked the front door and followed her down the walk. “You were right there with him at all his races when he started out.”

“I was scared to death, but it was more important to show him that I loved and supported him,” she said.

Paul opened the passenger door. “You always loved the children.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “The children weren’t the only ones I loved. Still love.” She climbed inside the truck and closed the door in Paul’s stunned face.

*   *   *

As the day lengthened, each time Paul thought about what Stella said, his heart beat like a drum.
Still love
. How could he let her keep doing this to him? Why couldn’t he shove her out of his mind, his heart, for good?

She said she’d made a mistake, and asked for his forgiveness. He had to admit he’d made mistakes as well. He honestly didn’t know what he would have done, how his life would have turned out if his children hadn’t looked past his lapse and continued to love him. He wasn’t blameless himself.

He cut a glance at her putting a clear varnish on the bottom of the island he and the two men had installed. She’d tried to help. Just as she’d lent a hand installing the range hood. He’d let her. He wasn’t sure if it was because she seemed to enjoy helping or that it reminded him of a time when they’d made the house into a home, a time when he woke up with a smile on his face because of the woman in his arms.

“It’s dark outside. I’ll finish up,” Paul told her. He could feel himself weakening toward her. Too many memories of their good life together overshadowed the difficult times without her.
Please, just leave
.

“I want to do it.” She never paused. “We can bring the children over tomorrow to see everything. They’re going to be so pleased.”

Paul’s hand clenched around the handle of the screwdriver. “We haven’t gotten to the bedroom.”

Her hand paused then continued the even brushstrokes. “The rest is done.”