Given (Give &Take) (5 page)

T
he train sped across the French countryside toward Nice. No matter how much I wanted to spend the next week locked in a Paris hotel room with Rachael, never getting dressed or leaving the bed, I couldn’t abandon my fatherly duty to go to Nadia. She needed me.

I’d lost too much time with my kids already, and I’d make Enzo pay for every year. Every lie. Every pang of guilt over Gina Montgomery’s death—fake death.

So many lies.

One mistake—sex with Gina—getting Gina pregnant when I was so young caused my father to set all of his devious plots against me into motion.

And God’s honest truth: I couldn’t even really remember sex with Gina Montgomery. It was all so awkward and over before it really began. More like a wet dream than a first time.

“What are you thinking about?” Rachael said, startling me from the thoughts running through my mind as fast as the train. I turned away from the window to face her. Her open expression, wide, eager eyes, and warm voice sucked me in every time.

I could never keep anything from her, even if I wanted to. She was a seductive force of nature, plying words off my tongue without me even realizing.

“I don’t remember being with Gina.”

Rachael’s eyes flickered. “You don’t?”

I shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I was way too young. I don’t imagine it was all that memorable for her either.” I chuckled, hoping to play it off. It bothered me, but it shouldn’t. Why did it matter if I remembered? I got MJ out of the deal. And Nadia.

She watched me for a moment, curiosity written all over her face.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

I almost prodded her to tell me what was on her mind, but let it go as she tucked back into the book she’d been reading. There was nothing left to say anyway. The past was the past.

I just wished my crazy-ass past would stop butting in between us. I wanted to give Rachael the life she deserved, not some dramatic emotional roller coaster. I reached over and rested my hand on her thigh, craving the contact that always calmed my racing mind and rattled nerves. She leaned her head against my shoulder and turned the page of her book, sighing contentedly.

We had another thirty minutes until we reached the Aix-en-Provence station and transferred trains. After that, it was another three hours to Nice. Rachael hadn’t known
which leg of the trip Nadia, Gina, and Enzo were on, or if they were already in Nice, or staying, or moving on.

It was like chasing shadows.

We arrived at the Nice-Ville station in late evening. The sun had set, but it wasn’t yet dark. I wanted to think of this trip as a grand adventure, a trip of a lifetime across France, yet my mind and the digging paranoia inside me wouldn’t let me forget the truth.

I rolled our suitcases along behind me, listening to the click-clack of Rachael’s heeled boots on the marble floor. Outside the station, we caught a cab and I asked the driver to take us to the nearest hotel, anxious to get settled in and walk. I could walk for miles. My mind worked best when I was moving.

Lost inside my head, wondering where Nadia could be, I came back to the present when the cab lurched to a stop and Rachael let out a small chuckle beside me.

The hotel was a disaster. Small and in disrepair with white paint peeling from the blocks of stone, which looked as if they would fall in against one another at any moment. Faded black awnings drooped over the windows. I regretted not being more specific about our hospitality needs. “It looks like a flea-infested rat trap.”

Rachael grinned and took my hand. “Something about it reminds me of Turtle Tear. It needs someone to take care of it.” She pointed to a stone barn barely standing in the
distance. “This old farmhouse is a piece of Gothic history. I can picture it how it once was. Too bad there isn’t someone like you to revive it to its original glory.”

I tucked her compliment away, knowing
she
was the one who’d saved Turtle Tear, and smiled. “Maybe someone will come along. For now, looks like we’ll be roughing it.”

“We’ve survived worse.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

We had survived worse conditions, and our time together with only candlelight and a hotel in ruins was the best of my life.

The wooden stairs up to the porch creaked under our feet. I knew enough French to read the small, carved sign hanging beside the door:
Mama and Papa Renault’s Inn.
If I had to guess, the wizened old man rocking in the chair at the end of the porch, smoking a pipe, was Papa. The old man smiled—not a tooth in his head—and waved us inside.
“Bonjour!”
he called, blowing smoke around his bald, wrinkled head.

“Bonjour,”
Rachael replied, grinning and taking in our surroundings. I could see the wheels turning in her brain. She was itching to get her hands on this place. The Louvre held little interest for my girl, but dirt, grime, and warped boards put a fire in her eyes.

I smiled to myself, taking pride in knowing her so well, at being the one to recognize what was in her heart and mind. I wondered if anyone knew her as well as I did. I doubted it.

I hoped not.

I wanted to be the only one she let see into the dark corners of herself, the ones she only revealed in our most intimate moments when she couldn’t hide her wants and desires, her most cherished memories and longings.

When it came to Rachael, I was a greedy, selfish man. I wanted all of her, every little bit, all to myself.

A plump woman in a plaid dress draped in a white apron with her gray hair pinned on top of her head greeted us inside. Fortunately, the cab driver was right behind us, hoisting our luggage up the porch stairs, and could convey our request for a room, the length of our stay undetermined.

I didn’t think that would be an issue, considering the state of the inn and the lack of other patrons. Despite the run-down appearance outside and the desperate need for updating inside, the inn was well kept and looked to be clean.

The old woman chattered at us in rapid French, of which I caught maybe two words, and then she turned and shouted over her shoulder. “Paul!”

After a moment, a tall young man about MJ’s age—early twenties—strode through a doorway to where I believed the kitchen would be, smiled, and grasped our luggage.

The proprietress pointed up the stairs to where Paul was hauling our suitcases and said, “Two. Room two,” in French-accented English.

“Perfect.” I nodded my thanks, unable to recall the basics of the language and wishing I’d had time to brush up on it before our trip.

The woman ushered us through a large sitting room and through a pair of doors out onto a flagstone patio. That was when I realized the beauty of Mama and Papa Renault’s Inn.

Acres of grapevines sprawled out before us over the hillside. Behind the ancient barn, the trees struggled to hold on to fall leaves of the most vibrant reds and oranges I’d ever seen. The sky overhead was a brilliant blue, so bright it hurt my eyes.

While I marveled at our surroundings, Rachael took a seat at a battered picnic table and our hostess brought out wine, grapes, and cheese. At some time, Papa Renault had found his way around back and sat under a nearby tree smoking and watching us.

“I think you’re in love,” Rachael said, pouring me a glass of white wine. “Funny how it sneaks up on you like that.”

She was teasing, but it wasn’t far from how I felt. “It’s no Turtle Tear,” I said, stepping over the bench and sitting across from her. “But there’s something about it.”

Rachael lifted her glass. “I think we were brought here for a reason. Someday we’ll know what it is.”

I lifted my glass and clinked it against hers. She had an old soul that spoke to mine. “Here’s to someday.” The crisp, sweet wine tingled on my tongue, holding the promise of good things to come.

M
y greatest weakness was my lack of patience. At the Renaults’ inn, it was easy to sit back, relax, and forget why we were in France, but when it all rushed back, it came with resentment. I wanted to enjoy this experience with Merrick, and Nadia had taken that from me. Even if she was the very reason we were in Nice in the first place.

I ran my hand along the grape leaves as Merrick and I walked between two rows. “Reminds me of the key lime orchard at Turtle Tear,” I said. I couldn’t help the comparisons. It was like a French version of my favorite place on earth.

“Uh-huh,” he said, distracted.

I could only wait so long and it had been long enough. “Call her,” I said. “Nadia. Call her and find out where they are.”

“I told you, I can’t do that.”

“
I
did and here we are. You know if you’d left it up to her, we’d still be sitting in Paris going crazy. Probably ready to kill each other.”

He stopped short and turned to me. “So you were right.
Is that what you want to hear, Rachael? You were right and I was wrong.”

Jesus, there he went again. I just wanted him to move the process along. “No, Merrick. I—”

“You what? You think I’m stupid for wanting to trust Nadia. You think she’s playing me. Well, maybe she is. I don’t know what to think or what to do.” He threw his hands in the air and started walking again.

I grabbed his arm. “Don’t be an ass. And don’t you dare walk away from me.”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what you want from me, Rachael. I’m going on instinct here.”

I put my hands on his hips and stepped in to him. “I want you to let me help. You can’t keep me uninvolved. I’m
involved
! I’m here. I can’t just follow you around like a lapdog. I get a say in this, don’t I? I thought we were a team.”

Merrick grasped my shoulders and pushed me back a step, drilling his eyes into mine. “No. You don’t get a say in this. You get to stay as far away from Enzo as possible. You’re here so I can have you with me and know where you are at all times.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”
My head was about to explode. “I guess that’s my answer. We’re not a team. There’s still you—in control, doing what you want—and I should just go along with it and like it. Well, guess what? I won’t do it!”

I pivoted from his angered and bewildered expression
and yanked a handful of grape leaves from a vine. Behind me, I heard him groan. “Rachael—”

“No!” I turned on him, pounded a fist against his chest. “If I’m not a part of this, then I’m not a part of your life and I guess there’s no
us
at all, is there?”

Merrick’s expression went blank, turned to stone. “You don’t know what it’s like.” He ran a hand down his face and began to pace. “I have a daughter who needs me.” He jolted to a halt and captured my eyes. “I can’t expect you to understand.”

My throat constricted in anger. “Because I don’t have kids? Because you’re the expert now?”

His forehead creased, brows knit. “I don’t claim to be an expert, but I never felt this way before I knew I was a father.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “They’re a part of me. I won’t turn my back on them.”

“I never asked you to.”

The set, determined look in his eyes frightened me. “Don’t ever make me choose.”

His words struck me so hard, I stumbled backward. He caught me by the arm. The world spun around me, all grapevines, sunlight, and bright blue sky—an absolute contradiction to the bleak blackness overtaking me.

He wouldn’t choose me. I would forever be relegated to third best in his life. I’d either accept it, or… or it was over.

S
he pulled her arm from my grasp and strode away from me.

I let her go.

I should’ve never said that.

There was nothing I wanted more than to go to her and take every word back. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I loved her—because I loved her—I needed her to understand my life now. I was a father. I had responsibility and I would never turn away from one of my kids asking for my help, even Nadia.

The justification didn’t keep my gut from feeling like it was being torn out and my chest from being ripped open.

With my head so full of churning thoughts, it might have taken fifteen minutes or fifteen hours to get back to the inn.

I’d known all along, my happiness was fleeting. Like holding water in my hand, it slipped through my fingers.

The pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Emotional torture. My throat was thick and ached with unshed tears, my chest heavy, my lungs struggling to take in air.
Why couldn’t she understand what I felt? How much I had to make up for with MJ and Nadia.

No, MJ wasn’t the issue. Rachael loved MJ. It was Nadia she didn’t like or trust.

Hell, I wasn’t sure I trusted her either, but as her father, it wasn’t really an option to turn away. I’d never do that.

Jesus, what was I supposed to do? Never in a million years would I have thought this would come between me and Rachael.

Stepping inside the patio doors and ambling to the front of the inn, I spotted Paul, the young man who had taken our bags to our room, sitting at a small desk beside the front door. He glanced up as I stopped in front of him. “The woman I’m with,” I said, “did she come inside?”

“Non.”
Paul studied my face. I knew I couldn’t hide my complete anguish.

I nodded, unable to speak. Upstairs, I opened the door to our room. I sank down on the foot of the bed and let my head fall into my hands.

My Rachael… would she be mine much longer? Could she accept me as a father, or would this be the end of us?

The idea of losing her struck me like a hammer blow to the heart.

What if I never slid that ring on her finger? Never saw her walking toward me down the aisle? Never celebrated an anniversary, a childbirth, even a Christmas?

The nevers were endless. I couldn’t let this happen to us.

At the foreign sensation of warm, wet tears slipping down my cheeks, I became completely unhinged. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried and now I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop.

The door opened slowly and Rachael stepped in. I lifted my eyes from her feet to her mascara-streaked face. “Why are you doing this to us?” she whispered.

We stared at each other, miserable, desperate, and devastated.

“I need you to accept me for who I am now.” My voice was raw and ragged.

“You’re shutting me out. How can I accept something you won’t let me be a part of? Don’t you understand that?”

I let out a harsh laugh and hoisted my heavy soul off the bed. “Don’t
I
understand that?” I gripped her shoulders and pulled her against me. “I don’t even know how to be a part of this yet, how—”

“Try,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest. “Promise me!” She pounded her fists against my shoulders. “Don’t you love me? Don’t you want to be with me?”

“Don’t I want to be with you?” I let out a rattling breath. “How can you doubt how much I love you?”

She stepped back from me, wrapping her arms around herself. “You told me I couldn’t be part of your decisions.” She sniffled and sobbed. “You’ve shut me out of your life.”

“You know why. It has nothing to do with how much I love you.” Watching her turn in on herself, away from me, cowering in her own arms, crying like a helpless, wounded
child, it was more than I could take. “Jesus, you have to know I love you more than my own life, Rachael.” I tried to hold her, but she pulled away.

“How would I know that?” She wouldn’t look at me. Tears dripped from her downturned face to the hardwood floor.

It was time—it couldn’t wait another second—damn it all to hell. “This wasn’t the way I wanted to do this.” I strode across the room to my suitcase, dug in the inside pocket, and pulled out the black ring box. “Look at me, Rachael.”

She lifted her eyes and I held up the box. “I bought this in Atlanta months ago.” I shook my head and walked toward her.

Rachael wiped her cheeks, but couldn’t keep up with the stream of tears. Her eyes tilted in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

I took her hand and guided her down onto the bed to sit beside me. “I couldn’t buy you a ring in that shop yesterday, Rachael, because I already had one. I’ve been carrying it around with me, loving the feel of it in my pocket, knowing it would be on your finger someday, but fighting off every urge to give it to you, to beg you to be with me forever.”

Overwhelmed, she covered her open mouth with her hand. She blinked tear after tear out of her welling eyes. “I don’t—why? Why didn’t you want to ask me?”

“I do! My God, I do. I wanted to make sure you had enough time to come to terms with things. You didn’t sign up for a package deal when we met. I didn’t want you to
say yes and regret it, or say no and slay me on the spot. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to because of Turtle Tear, or because of everything going on. I didn’t want a pity acceptance when I proposed.”

“A pity acceptance?” She sounded so bewildered, I reached out and stroked her hair to comfort her, half expecting her to flinch or back away, but she didn’t.

“It had to be perfect,” I said. “The perfect time. The perfect place. But I can’t let you think I don’t love you with every piece of me. Every single cell inside of me.”

I slowly slid off the bed, down onto one knee, and opened the ring box. I admired it, sparkling in its nest of velvet. I’d peeked in the box a million times, wondering if it was good enough for her, if she’d like it. As my eyes lifted to hers, wide and overwhelmed, I had my answer.

“Rachael, this was supposed to come when we were back at home. I wanted to do this on the deck of the tree house on one of those mornings when the herons fly over and the scent of the sweet key limes fills the air, but like always, my gut instinct took over, I messed everything up, made you doubt me, and now has to be the time.” I reached up and put my hand over her eyes. “Close your eyes for me. Pretend we’re home.”

She took my hand away and held it in hers, threading our fingers together. “I don’t want to pretend I’m anywhere but here. This is how we work. Your knee-jerk reactions are why we’re together at all. This is the way it’s supposed to be, Merrick. This is
our
way.”

God. How could any one woman know me so well? Know exactly how to find my every insecurity and wrangle it to the ground? “Then there’s only one thing left to do.” I set the open ring box beside her on the bed and cradled her face in my hands. “Since the first time I saw you—no, before that, the first time I heard your voice, that determined, stubborn voice telling me how perfect you were for my project manager position—I knew I had to have you. You belonged in my life, and one way or another, I would have you.”

She inhaled sharply and smiled, pressing her lips together as the tears kept flowing. I brushed them away with my thumbs. “I don’t know how, or why, Rachael, but you get me like nobody ever has. You understand the circles of thought in my mind and why I do the crazy-stupid things I do.”

Rachael let out a small laugh and my heart leapt. I felt myself smile and clung to the hope that I hadn’t destroyed everything between us. “I want the world with you. I want what we already have and everything I see for us in the future. You’re my home, Rachael, the only one I’ve ever had, and I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

Rachael nodded, her face still held in my hands. “I want that more than anything. I’d marry you this second if I could.” She started laughing and crying at the same time. “This is the most emotionally draining trip I’ve ever taken.”

I began to laugh with her, plucked the ring out of the box, stood, and pulled her up into my arms. “You just
signed on for a lifetime on this roller coaster, so buckle in.” I took her left hand and slipped the diamond ring on her finger. “I promise to be the best husband I can be until the day I die.”

Rachael grinned and pecked my lips. “I promise to hold you to it.”

Taking her hand, I lifted the ring to my lips and, like she taught me, sealed my promise with a kiss.