Husband Under Construction (15 page)

He turned back to find her gripping the arm of the chair so tightly her hands looked like claws. “Ohmigod, it makes me so mad I could spit! To…to follow tradition simply
because that's the way it's always been done? Especially about something as monumental as getting married? Having kids? Who gets to decide this stuff?”

Okay, color him slightly confused. “But…you're totally down with the whole marriage and kids thing.”

“For
me,
yeah,” Rox said, nearly toppling over when she pressed one hand to her chest. “Not for everybody. And to use marriage as some sort of yardstick to measure somebody's integrity…I can't even wrap my head around that, sorry. You have a right to live your own life, Noah, the way
you
want to live it. Not the way your father wants you to. So there.”

Wow. Then, realizing she was shivering because she was probably freezing, Noah slipped out of his jacket and handed it to her, feeling another one of those funny gut twists when she practically disappeared inside it. “Thanks,” she said.

Noah nodded, then smiled slightly. “Looks like there's no reason for me to bitch. Seeing as you already did it for me.”

A stray, still-yellow leaf rappelled through the mostly bare branches to land in Roxie's lap. Idly, she picked it up, talking almost more to it than to him.

“Yeah, well, it hit home. See, apparently my parents had plans for me. Plans that didn't include me making a career out of telling people how much Great-Aunt Edna's eighteenth-century armoire was worth. Especially since my father had done the struggling artist thing most of their married life. Meaning Charley and Mae weren't exactly encouraging, either. We fought,” she said to his questioning gaze. “A lot. Hence the Goth phase. And why I put myself through college. Out of state. That's also why I didn't come back very often to see them, because we'd get into the same argument every time I did. And it hurt, because I loved
them. But it seemed the only way to ensure their happiness was to sacrifice my own.”

Huh. Maybe they had more in common than he'd thought. “What did your parents want you to do?”

She smirked. “Anything that was ‘stable.' As if such a thing exists in today's economy, anyway. Except maybe working for the IRS or going into undertaking,” she said dryly. “They all meant well. I even knew it at the time. But we can't be who other people want us to be. Not successfully anyway.” The fire flared again in her eyes. “God knows, your dad's a good man. But so are you. And it chaps my hide that he can't see that because his definition doesn't jibe with yours.”

And again, her defense warmed him. However…“Rox—my reputation…that's not rumor, you know.”

“Being a chick magnet doesn't automatically make you a dirtwad.”

At that, he laughed out loud. “Oh, honey…if I was ever in a back alley fight? I'd definitely want you on my side.”

Her eyes locked in his, she huddled more deeply into his jacket. “Same here,” she said.

Then Noah said, “You're treading on real thin ice, you know that?” and her brows lifted.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That you have no idea how badly I want to kiss you again.”

“Never mind that two minutes ago you were mad at me.”

“Which would be two minutes before you blew my mind.”

Then it seemed as if another two minutes passed before, on a rush of air, she said, “Okay, here's the thing—you have no idea how much I'd like to kiss you again, too—no, stay where you are, I'm not finished—but the problem is, kissing
has a way of leading to other things. Which in theory is very nice. In fact, I'm a real big fan of ‘other things,' but, see…I learned the hard way that I'm not one of those women who can fool around and then go about my merry way. I…bond. Big time.”

“As in…?”

“As in, my hormones turn to Super Glue and you'll never get rid of me. Well, not without the words ‘twenty-to-life' being in there somewhere. And I'm thinking that's not what you have in mind.”

“Going to prison?”

Rox laughed, then sobered, a smile still lingering on her lips. “I refuse to be anybody's jailer, Noah. Ever again. Please don't think I'm only being a tease,” she said, concern swimming in her eyes, “because that's not my intention. But I know who I am, what I want and need. I don't have to defend it or make excuses for it, but I do have to honor it. Honor myself. And I have to honor you, too, by not letting you get into something you don't want.”

“But—”

“Sex isn't a momentary thing for me. It's a commitment. And yes, I know that makes me an oddball in this day and age, but that's my cross to bear. So I'm going to save both of us a lot of grief and say the subject is now off the table.”

He felt almost dizzy. “Forever?”

She got to her feet, letting his jacket slide off her arms before she handed it back to him. “Maybe we could make each other feel good for a little while,” she said, and Noah thought,
Maybe, hell,
“but we wouldn't make each other happy. And making do simply isn't enough anymore. Not for me.”

“You're still not over…what was his name? Mac?”

Instead of answering, she simply gave him one of those inscrutable smiles before walking back to the house.
Swallowing hard, Noah realized he couldn't argue with her, or rise to her unspoken challenge to make her
forget
her first love. That she'd been absolutely right to walk away. That he should be grateful she'd refused to compromise his freedom.

Except, somehow he didn't think “freedom” was supposed to leave such a sour taste in your mouth.

G
od help her, Roxie thought on Thanksgiving Day, as she listened to Charley and Eden trade good-natured barbs across the table from each other, the woman was beginning to grow on her. In much the same way one did get sucked into all those absurd reality shows, actually. Eccentric didn't even begin to cover it, she further mused when Eden bounced up from the table, one of her custom-made creations billowing around her as she floated to the kitchen to warm up the gravy, her prissy little dog clickity-clicking behind her. But she was clearly as smitten with Charley as he was with her, and jeezum, could the woman cook. So things could be a lot worse.

“So the house is all finished?” Eden now asked, settling back at the table like a swan on her nest.

Ah, yes. That. If nothing else, being here—up until this moment, at least—had diverted Roxie from thinking too hard about that last conversation with Noah. About the
slightly horrified look in his eyes when she'd laid down what must have sounded like an ultimatum.

When she'd deliberately not answered that last question. Because right now, it was all about tossing out whatever obstacles came to hand, anything to slow down this runaway
thing
exploding between them.

“It sure is,” Charley said, chest expanded as if he'd done all the work himself. “And it looks terrific.” Then he smiled at Roxie. “Thanks to your nagging, girl.”

“Noah and his crew really did a great job,” she said, poking holes in her yams, fascinated with the marshmallow ooze. Then, smiling for Eden, “You really need to come see the house.”

Setting down her wine glass, the other woman eyed her speculatively. “You sure?”

Roxie reached out and took Eden's hand, clearly startling her. “Absolutely. You're welcome anytime.” Letting go, she raised her own glass to her uncle and grinned. “Anything to get this old coot off my back!”

Eden barked out a laugh, then took up her knife and fork to resume her demolition of her turkey leg. “I like you, honey.” She waved her knife in Roxie's direction. “You've got brass ones, doncha?”

Do I?
she thought. Because if that were true, would she cut herself off from something she wanted so badly it made her cross-eyed, simply because she wasn't sure she could handle the aftermath?

Across the room, her phone warbled. “Sorry,” she said, scooting over to get it out of her purse. “I can't imagine who it is….”

Seeing Noah's number on the readout sent a jolt through her midsection. “Noah—?”

“I'm sorry, I must be interrupting your dinner—”

“No, no, not a problem.” Frowning, she shoved her hair behind her ear. “What's going on?”

She heard a rattling sigh. “Dad…he had a heart attack.”

“Ohmigod, Noah! Is Gene…is he okay?”

“He's out of recovery after the angioplasty. So I guess so far, so good. He's still a little groggy, but definitely conscious. And a helluva lot calmer than the rest of us,” he said with the tense laugh of the petrified. “And…he asked to see you.”

Something close to alarm wrapped its long, bony fingers around her neck. And squeezed. “Me? Why?”

“You'd have to ask him that. So. Will you come?”

“Of course,” Roxie said, quickly, before the galloping heart rate, the cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, had a chance to fully register. After Noah told her which hospital, she elbowed aside the panic enough to ask, “Hey…how are
you
doing?”

“Better now than I was a few hours ago,” he said on another shaky laugh that made her ache for him, and the panic ebbed…only to rush her from another, even more vulnerable angle, that she could deny it 'til the cows came home, but the fact was—big sigh, here—she was completely, hopelessly, pointlessly in love with the doofus.

“And your mom?” she said over the burning sensation in her eyes.

“A basket case in denial?”

“I bet,” she said, then swallowed. “I'll be there in five minutes. What's the room number?”

She found a pen in a drawer, scribbled the number on a paper towel, then turned to find that Eden and Charley had already put everything away and were in their coats, ready to go, worry heavy in Charley's eyes as he held Eden's hand.

Slipping into her coat, Roxie grabbed for her uncle's
other hand. “Hey. This is Gene we're talking about. He's going to be fine.”

Probably a lot better than I am,
Roxie thought on a sigh, as she herded the couple out to her car.

It took longer to navigate the hospital's endless corridors than it had to get there from Eden's, although the interminable marching at least gave her a chance to come to terms with her surroundings. To pat herself on the back that she hadn't walked through the glass doors, said, “Nope, can't do this,” and gone tearing back out to the parking lot, a hyperventilating blur in an ivory mohair swing coat.

But she didn't. And at long last, Roxie and her mini-entourage found the coronary care waiting room, filled cheek-by-jowl with Garretts. Noah stood immediately, shaking hands with Charley and nodding to Eden before yanking Roxie against him and holding on tight. With his brothers watching, heh. But—and here was the weird thing—almost as if he were comforting
her.

When he finally let go, searching her eyes for heaven knew what, she said, “Where's your mom?”

“In with Dad. The doctor came out a little bit ago, said if everything kept on as expected, Dad should only be in the hospital a day or so. But he's gonna be fit to be tied when the sedation wears off completely.” He took her slightly aside, saying through a thick voice, “For all the man and I don't see eye to eye, I can't…”

“I know,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “I know.”

At that moment, Donna Garrett emerged from the room, looking a little wan but collected—enough—in her Thanksgiving getup of a long, leaf-patterned skirt, a sweatshirt with gleefully oblivious turkeys marching across the yoke. Her sons all stood; she waved them back down. Seeing Roxie, she managed a smile, the skirt whooshing around her thighs
when she sank onto the nearest seat, the adrenaline rapidly waning. She rallied enough, though, to give Charley a hug when he leaned over.

“He's dozing,” she said to the room at large as she smoothed back her flyaway hair, then sagged back against the vinyl cushion, her eyes drifting closed. “He may have been the one who had the heart attack, but mine will never be the same, let me tell you.” Then she opened her eyes and spotted Roxie. “Oh, my goodness…you came?”

“Well, yeah, of course.” Roxie sat beside her, hugging her purse to her middle. “Because Noah said Gene asked for me?”

“About a half hour ago.” Reaching for Roxie's hand, Donna gave her a gentle smile. “He wouldn't tell anybody why, but he was pretty insistent. Fair warning, though, honey—he was still pretty doped up at that point. He might not even remember asking. Hate to think you came all the way up here on a fool's errand.”

“No, actually, I was already here, having dinner with Eden. But I would've come no matter what.” Then, remembering her manners, Roxie introduced Eden to everyone…a moment before, unfurling her voluminous shawl, Eden plunked herself down on Donna's other side.

“I know we just met, so forgive my butting in…but I've got a pretty good idea what you're feeling right now—”

“Oh, I'll be fine in a minute—”

“Like hell.” Tears glistened in Eden's mascara. “You might be brave. You might even be calm. But
fine?
No damn way. Trust me, sweetheart, I've been there. I know. Just like I know you need to let it out. And far better in front of me than your husband, right?”

Roxie could see Donna's valiant fight to hold it in—the tiny shake of her head, the tight press of her lips. But then, on a long, soft moan, she dissolved into tears, not even
protesting when Eden pulled Noah's mother against her chest, making soft, crooning noises of her own.

Holy cow.

Suddenly overcome with all the emotions she'd thought she'd left back in the parking lot, Roxie stood and fled into the hall, only to hear Noah's soft, “Bringing back memories?” behind her seconds later.

She jerked around. “How did you—? Oh. You mean about the baby?”

He came closer. Wearing a brown T-shirt underneath a tan denim jacket, she noticed. Not black. “Well, that, too. But a couple of days ago, while you were at work? Charley got to talking.” Compassion flooded his eyes. “Said you were at the hospital with your parents after the crash. By yourself.”

Unable to speak for the tears clogging her throat, Roxie simply nodded. A second later she was once more in Noah's arms, his head nestled atop hers. “I can't imagine how awful that was for you,” he whispered. “And then…the other.”

“Yeah. Not a big fan of hospitals,” she finally got out, pulling away. But he grabbed her hand.

“Maybe I had to tell you Dad wanted to see you, but you didn't have to say yes.”

“I know. But I would've come in any case.” She took a deep breath, thinking,
Fear is for wusses.
“Even if you'd only asked for yourself.”

His brows lifted. “Really?”

“Really. So why didn't you?”

Still holding her hand, Noah glanced down, pushing out a sigh before meeting her gaze again. “Because I can't figure out what we are to each other. And whether whatever that is includes being able to call on you in a crisis.”

“Don't make me smack you,” Roxie said, and he smiled.
“Look, I don't know what we are to each other, either. But I sure as heck know I hate it when we're not talking.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Me, too—”

“Rox?” Silas said from the waiting room doorway. “The nurse said Gene's asking for you.”

Noah walked her to his father's door, giving her hand a brief squeeze before returning to the waiting room. But oh, dear God—the déjà vu when she stepped inside, saw Gene hooked up to all those whirring and beeping machines, was so strong she had to force herself to breathe.

Her father had passed away in the E.R. within minutes after being brought in, but her mother had hung on for almost another full day, although she never regained consciousness. Mae and Charley had gotten there as soon as they could, but Charley had told Noah the truth, that all through that long, horrible night she'd been by herself, barely seventeen and frightened out of her wits, staving off the agony of losing her father by willing her mother to stay alive. How she'd ever recovered from that, she'd never know. Let alone gone on to recover from Mac's death, from losing the baby, from Jeff's betrayal….

Noah was right, she thought with a slight smile. She was one tough little cookie.

Fortunately, Noah's dad didn't appear to be going anywhere, thank God, even though he was still a bit loopy from the meds. But his color looked pretty good, from what she could tell, and the machines all seemed to be beeping and whirring as they should.

At Gene's indication that she should sit, Roxie silently lowered herself onto the edge of the padded chair next to the bed. “How do you feel?”

He almost smiled. “I'm gonna say like crap, although I'm not entirely sure.”

“I bet.” She swallowed. “You…wanted to see me?”

Gene rolled his head to look at her, grimacing at the oxygen tube in his nose. “It's funny,” he said slowly. “In the back of your mind you know you don't have forever, but even further back you think you do. The doc says I'm gonna make it, but I'm not taking any chances. You sweet on my boy?”

Nothing like cutting to the chase. “Oh, Gene…if this is going where I think you're taking it…please don't—”

“I'm only asking 'cause I know he's got feelings for you.” He pulled in a noisy breath. “Strong feelings. Stronger than he's probably ever had for anyone else his entire life. So before I make a damn fool of myself, I need to know if those feelings are reciprocated.”

Damn. Damndamndamndamndamn. What on earth was she supposed to say? Maybe the man wasn't dying, but he wasn't exactly in optimal health, either.

“Okay, forget that,” Gene said, and Roxie puffed out a sigh of relief, only to nearly choke when he said, “I'm gonna say my piece, anyway. If anybody could help that boy get his head on straight, it's you. He
needs
you, honey. Even if he's too mule-headed to see it, I do.”

“Gene—”

“I know, I know…his past doesn't exactly speak in his favor. But he's right on the cusp of changing, I can feel it. And I believe that's because of you. So if you could find it in your heart to give him a little encouragement…?”

The privacy curtain yanked back. “Okay, Mr. Garrett,” said the broad-hipped, broadly smiling nurse. “We don't want you overexerting yourself now, do we?”

“But we weren't finished—”

“And there's no hurry, honey, I promise. Everything's looking good. No reason on earth why you can't continue this tomorrow when you're feeling stronger.” She smiled down at Roxie. “You got a problem with waiting?”

“Me?” She practically shot to her feet. “Not at all. You have a nice, quiet night, Gene,” she said, leaning over to kiss his forehead, “and…I'll see you soon, how's that—?”

He clasped her hand. “You'll think about what I said?”

As if she was going to be able to think about anything else. “I will. I promise.”

“And you won't say anything to Noah?”

“He knows you asked to see me. Don't you think he's going to be the tiniest bit curious as to why?”

The nurse shot her a let's-not-upset-the-cardiac-patient-okay? look, and Roxie sighed. “I promise, I won't say anything to Noah. Do you want me to send Donna or the boys back in?”