Forever (25 page)

Moving with that deceptive speed he had, he gripped her biceps and hauled her so their faces almost touched. “There won’t be other women, Amy. And no other men for you
, either.
We are going to work this out
.”

She said nothing, forcing her eyes to stay open when he took her mouth, insistently, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened for him. But she
somehow remained aloof and he finally released her, his face now dark with suppressed emotion. “I’m going to see Randy, arrange a few things. You’ll forgive me if I ask you to stay in the condo today. Until we test out this
new relationship
.”

“Trust, Dean,” she managed. “Remember? This will be a little test. I’m going to see Sandra. I’ll be sure to keep you apprised of my every move.”

His movements jerky, Dean tucked his shirt into his pants, then crossed to the dresser. A set of keys sailed to land beside her, and he walked from the room. She heard him in the den, and he returned with her purse. “Your Audi is in the garage. We’ll be finding you a safer mode of transportation. But if you are so determined to see Sandra…”

“There’s a van in
Santa Rosa. Paid for. I’ll—”

“
I’ll
send someone if you’re intent on having the fucking thing. Leave the address. Be back for dinner.” The front door slammed. Amy slumped back and sighed. Now there was nothing but to get on with it. Except another storm of tears overtook her, this time, curiously, because Dean gave in so easily. God save her from the vagaries of pregnancy hormones.

Rising from the bed, she went into the bathroom to wash her face, applying some concealer to mask the dark flags beneath her eyes. Mascara would probably be a bust today, although some blush was in order—her pallor was marked. All of her things were exactly where she had left them. She drew the brush through her hair and tossed it on the counter. She’d drive straight to Sandra’s, she decided, wouldn’t call first. If Sandra wasn’t home
, at least she’d be out in the world and could cope with the disappointment there, instead of in this place she was again to call home. The one Dean threw her out of, and would again, no matter how he protested. The acidic taste of acrimony assailed her once again, but she pushed it down. Made her bed. Time to lie in it. She pulled Bogs from the garbage bag and carefully set him on the corner of the night stand by her side of the bed, the one true thing in her life besides Sandra.

****

“Amy! Oh my God, girl! Get in here!” Sandra dragged her into the house, pausing only to close and lock the door behind her. “Are you okay? Are you back to stay?”

Thanking her foresight not to wear eye makeup, Amy sobbed into her friend’s arms, the grief and confusion pouring out in veritable rivers. Sandra led her to the kitchen and got her settled on a chair, ripping a wad of tissues from the box on the counter. Amy grabbed them and mopped at her face. She had to quit doing this to Sandra.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s all right, honey. Please, Amy.” Sandra’s soothing utterances slowly penetrated, and Amy began to calm down. The other woman patted her hand and got up to pull a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge, offering one after twisting off the cap.

“He found out I was pregnant and tracked me down.”

“I didn’t tell him, Amy. He knew when he came to see me.”

“I know, Sandra. I left the damn test box in the trash and old eagle
-eye ferreted it out. Probably had to take the garbage out himself.” Okay, that sounded petty, but still… Where the hell was Lois? Amy decided she wasn’t picking up after Dean, or cleaning his house. If he’d fired Lois then he’d need to find a replacement.

“He was looking for you long before he found out about the baby.”

“Uh huh. Dean never has a problem in admitting he was wrong and then fixes it. Or does his version of fixing. He
made
me come home with him. I felt like I had no choice because of how it could turn out for Harold and Francine.”
And because he said please, and that he was sorry, and wanted to make amends, and I’m still a pushover where he’s concerned because I love him.
No, she wasn’t going there.

Sandra regarded her, features marked with worry.

Amy continued, “And what if he doesn’t learn from this particular mistake? What if I don’t trust him making amends?”

“So that’s it. You figure he’ll—”

“Look at his track record.  We had it good, better than anything either of us dreamed of. But he turned on me anyhow.”

“And you’re not into giving second chances.”

Amy slammed the bottle down on the table, the plastic sides flexing under her clenched fingers. The water gushed up and over the top, running down over her hand, soaking the fabric at her wrist. Sandra jumped up for a towel.

“I’m sorry, Amy. I warned him about
getting caught between you and his business, being forced to make a choice.”

“What are you talking about? Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, honey. Yours. Dean is everything to you and you know it. I understand you’re scared but I’ve been thinking about it.” Sandra hardly looked her age, just two years older than Amy, her face wise with wisdom belying her years, gained from experiences Amy could only guess at. “You love him, and he loves you, whether he can tell you or not. And there’s the baby to think about. You might want to consider grabbing onto this new opportunity with both hands, Amy. For however long it lasts. Nothing lasts forever. We both know that. Live it. Or follow your path and live half a life. I know he forced you to come home, and that sucks, but it’s what the man knows, imposing his will. And he thought he was doing the right thing.”

“I don’t know, Sandra. It hurt so much. I can’t take it again.”

“You can. If you have to, you can. But you need to make your choice. All I’m asking is that you consider everything very carefully. Make the right choice.” Sandra got up and threw the rag into the sink. “I have to get ready for work. Evening shift. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m so happy you’re back.”

Amy couldn’t stand the undecipherable emotions coloring her friend’s words. Shit. “Sandra? You all right?”

“Yup. Just need some time and I have to work. I’ll call you.”

Amy initiated the hug this time around, and went out to her car. No place to go, no one she really wanted to see, although at some point she’d have to face Andrea and the other women
, who would all know she’d run away, and then come home with her tail between her legs. Kind of.

She decided to go shopping and postpone that inevitable meeting for as long as she could. If Dean was going to keep her, then she’d spend a little of the money from the sale of the car she was presently driving. The curious irony made her laugh
, and then want to cry again, but first she needed to make a call.

“Restaway Inn.”

“Harold?”

“Amy! Honey, are you okay? Joyce told us you had a family emergency.”

“Uh, about that, Harold. My boyfriend paid a visit and—”

“Do you need the police? Where are you? Give me an address.” Harold sounded freaking scary.

“I’m fine, Harold. Really.” As fine as a woman could be who agreed to live with a man who’d fucked her over, to have his baby, while forgoing the fringe benefits of amazing sex. All while she tried to fall out of love with the father of her baby and the giver of said amazing sex. “I’ll come back to visit in awhile. I promise. I’m so sorry I left before you came home.”

“S’okay, Amy. As long as you’re okay. You sound shaky.”

“I’m safe and fine. Maybe not my ideal hope in life, but neither was running away.”

“How’s the baby?”

“Uh…”

“Can’t live so close and work together without us noticing, honey. Although Francine put it together first. Still not feeling great
, first thing?”

“No, but that will pass soon, apparently. At least according to informed sources on the ’Net.”

“The wireless deal was inspired, Amy. You come see us whenever you want. And you call.”

She promised, tucking her phone back into her bag. The closest mall was only a few blocks away, and retail therapy would keep her from thinking too much.

****

Dean slouched on the couch, feet on the coffee table, nursing a beer, ostensibly watching the game, but his attention was fixed on the door. When he got home
, he knew Amy was out because the car was gone. He was still disappointed to find the condo empty, although her grassy scent permeated every room, refreshing the bouquet of a month ago. He heard the slamming of car doors and vaguely, male and female voices. He was at the door with no memory of setting his boots on the floor or pulling his ass off the couch.

“Thanks, Enrico. ’Preciate it.” The sound of Amy’s voice floated through the open door, followed by the rush of light footsteps on the stairs. The little smile playing around her lips vanished the instant she laid eyes on him, and she slowed her pace. He reached out a hand for the numerous bags dangling from either wrist.

He wouldn’t say it, but the last hour had been hell, wondering if she was coming home or once again fleeing from him.
Trust.
The meeting with Randy had been barely a distraction, and Dean had little memory of what transpired, the decisions made, but assumed one of them did. Thank God for Randy. “You run into Enrico?”

“We pulled in at the same time. He unloaded my parcels.” She didn’t look at him.

“Enrico got with Sandra.” Dean had no fucking idea why he had to say that, except it was true and maybe he didn’t want her to hear it from anyone else. Unless Sandra had already told her.

His comment was enough to make Amy give him her eyes. “You sicced him on her, Dean? To ask about me and he used her? Tell me you didn’t do that.”

Not willing to fight with her on the landing where everyone inclined might listen in, he drew her inside. “I asked him to check with her. I wanted to find you.”

“And you couldn’t ask her yourself?” Amy tossed her purse on the coffee table and wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. Her breasts plumped and rested on that makeshift cradle and Dean tore his eyes away from the enticing sight. He was in the shit. Again.

“I was putting out the fire Burnett ignited, Amy. I couldn’t be in two places at once, and Sandra wouldn’t have given me the time of day. Her loyalty is to you.”

She muttered something sounding like, “You might be surprised.” And walked back to that one person chair to drop into it and stare out the window. Dean stood awkwardly for another moment then set the sacks down beside Amy’s purse.

“You buy some new clothes?”

“With your money.”

He dug deep for patience. “Good, that’s what it’s for.” And was rewarded with a glare. He wondered if this was how she acted when she was a teenager and if an ass whupping then had worked to correct her attitude. He was becoming obsessed with that ass. Not that he’d really raise a hand to her given her condition. Any ass paddling would have to wait until it could be doled out as an erotic spanking—she liked those.

“Do you want to eat here or go out?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Goddamn it!” His voice thundered and echoed in the space and Amy flinched. He modulated his tone as best as he could. “
Respect, Amy. Being civil. You might remember how, if you cast your mind back. I’m trusting you. Hold up your end.”

He tugged off his boots and they hit the floor by the door with a satisfying thud. He stalked into the bedroom to change. “Put something on you’ll want to wear to the steak house.”

Bags rustled in the living room and Amy passed through his line of sight to shut herself in the bathroom. Dean sighed. His temper had always been close to the surface, sometimes useful in his line of work, but he could control it, too. Except around his woman, apparently. At least, not when she was displaying this side of herself. He chose a tailored pair of pants and a long sleeved dark shirt, toeing into a pair of comfortable shoes, one eye on the bathroom. Was she crying in there again? Plotting? Shit. He was going to expire with need, but seducing Amy would be highly counterproductive and Dean was a good strategist. Except for losing his temper. But goddamn it to hell, she pushed his buttons. He missed his mostly sweet Amy and had to accept it was his own doing.

“I’m sorry for being rude. I’m ready.” Amy emerged from the bathroom, wearing an amazing dress, the blue patterned material clinging to her high breasts to fall away around her waist before fitting snugly around her hips and thighs. It skimmed her knees, detracting a trifle from the incredibly sexy look. Probably all that saved it from being inappropriate wear outside of the condo. The blue kitten
-heels raised her to nearly eye level, if only she’d tip her head back and give him her eyes.

Dean forgot what she said and sifted through his memory bank to ensure he made the correct response, determined to say nothing that could be misinterpreted. “Apology accepted.
I’m sincerely offering mine. We should go.”

****

Dinner was an extremely polite, civilized affair. Dean felt like he was on a blind date, or at least what he assumed a blind date felt like. The only animation Amy displayed was related to the couple she worked for in Santa Rosa, and she blithely asserted her intention to visit them in the near future.