In Love and War (20 page)

Whatever anticipation he
’d felt for the confrontation with Senator Norton had been spent. The one that was destined to come from this decision filled him with dread.

*
**

He sensed tension in the air the minute he walked into the design studio. It gave him pause, but Jean
’s welcome relieved a little of his anxiety. She stood and came right over with her arms open. They embraced.

“
How are you, Dylan?” She stepped back to look him over, her brows pinched with concern.

“
Managing,” he admitted with a weak little smile, hoping it was enough to ease her worries.

“
And your leg?”

“
Pain meds are a wonderful thing.”

She
laughed softly at that then moved aside so Ariela could take a crack at him.

It was obvious she was upset with him.
“I can’t believe you drove to DC and back again today.”

Dylan gave her an apologetic squeeze and kissed her on the forehead.
“I told you I’d be busy. I’ve got stories to write and irons in the fire.”

“
I was worried. Don’t take off like that without telling me from now on, okay?”

Yeah, he probably should have mentioned it.
“Sorry, I forget there are rules when you’re in a relationship. It’s been a while.”

Ariela slipped her hand into his and towed him
away when Jean picked up her phone and began to dial. He sat down on the corner of Ariela’s desk. She settled in her chair.

“
Aren’t you about done here?” He hoped so.

“
No,” she answered slowly, her eyes locked on Jean.

“
I’m on hold,” Jean told her while drumming rapidly on her desk with her pen.

Interesting
. “What’s going on?” Dylan asked in an undertone.

Jean sat
straight up and dropped the pen, her eyes wide. “Yes, I’m here…Uh-huh …You’re sure? … Okay. Let me write that down …Uh-huh …Good, I’ll be there. Thanks.” She looked up with a big smile, her face glowing.

Ariela squealed and bounded out of her chair so fast it knocked over her waste basket. She never noticed. Dylan picked it up and tossed the trash back into it while the friends hugged and chattered with excitement. He looked on, completely bewildered.

Jean reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “I have to call Ron and tell him we’re going out to celebrate tonight. You’re joining us, right?”

When he saw the hopeful smile on Ariela
’s face, there was only one answer to that question. “Of course.” Then he waved Ariela over and whispered, “What are we celebrating?”

“
Jean’s pregnant.”

Chapter 19

When Ariela climbed into the car, she seemed a million miles away.
Dylan touched her arm to bring her back.

“Something wrong?
Do you want to talk about it?”

“
I was just thinking about all of the changes that have come at me in the last couple of months. Six weeks ago, I didn't even know you, and now look, I’m in love.” Her little smile was there and gone in a flash. “My two oldest friends are planning their wedding
and
expecting a baby. On top of that, it just hit me I’m going to have to move. They’re going to need the second bedroom for a nursery.”

Dylan stared straight ahead, his mind racing. This would be the perfect time to suggest
she move in with him, for real. She was there anyway, why not make it official? But he hesitated. How could he offer her shelter in a storm when he was standing right in the eye of the hurricane? His life was total chaos. His career was in a serious state of flux now that he was focusing on national rather than international stories. It was the right move for him, but that didn’t mean it was easy or he wouldn’t experience pangs of doubt and regret now and then. He’d moved back to the states and made the transition from absentee landlord to homesteader only eight weeks ago.

Then there was Max. Living with a dog was a big adjustment for him. It wasn
’t the biggest. The major upheaval in his life was sitting right next to him. Dylan glanced surreptitiously at Ariela and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do about this one.

**
*

It wasn
’t surprising that dinner conversation broke along gender lines. The guys talked sports and politics, while Ariela and Jean focused more on the wedding and pregnancy.

“
You have to tell me everything. Don’t be stingy with the details. I want to know about morning sickness and cravings, mood swings and contractions.” Ariela turned when she felt Dylan’s focus directed her way. He looked spooked that she was even curious. “Take the terror down a notch there, big guy.” She laughed. “Just because I’m curious doesn’t mean I’m making plans. Relax. I just have no idea what to expect one day. Jean’s my guinea pig.”

Jean snorted and reached for her ginger ale.
“Guinea pig? Nice.”

“You know what I mean,” said Ariela
, placating her.

“I suppose I
am breaking new ground, but I don’t want to be the reason your back hurts or you think your ankles look swollen. I swear to god, if you go into sympathetic labor with me, I’ll kick you out of the delivery room.”

Ariela’s face lit up. “You want me at the delivery?”

Jean nodded, her smile adding to her happy glow. “Well yeah! Ron will probably appreciate having someone around who isn’t ready to chew his head off with the next contraction.” Jean turned, poised to say something to Ron next when she caught the look of confusion on Dylan’s face. It made her laugh. “What, you didn’t know Ariela’s a hypochondriac?”

“No,
” he said slowly, but he was grinning from ear to ear, obviously open to the possibility. He looked at Ariela and asked, “What else have you been keeping from me?”

She crossed her arms and shot back,
“You should talk.”

Everyone stared at her
, and no one was smiling now. Regret over her peevish retort struck instantly. She chewed her thumbnail and slid lower in her chair like a sulky teen. “I’m sorry. That just came out.”

Jean looked at her, hard, before turning back to Dylan with a forced laugh. “Ariela doesn’t just get headaches; she
imagines potential aneurysms or tumors. A pulled muscle makes her worry about a hairline fracture. Or it used to.”

Let them laugh, thought Ariela, kicking her foot under the table. But he
’d struck a nerve with his question. Dylan was the master of withholding information. It was how he carefully sidestepped unpleasantness without getting caught in a lie. For a journalist, he was pretty stingy with facts and details. Earlier today was a great case in point. He’d shuttled her out of the way then taken off for DC without a word. Apparently, she wasn’t quite over being angry with him. She might have been more forgiving if she hadn’t already come to recognize the pattern. Well, she’d be nice through the rest of dinner. No need to cause a scene. Tonight was all about Jean and Ron and their happy news.

Meanwhile, Dylan seemed ready enough to let bygones be bygones because he reached over and gave her a one
-armed squeeze, his smile back in place.

“No way
.” He shook his head. “The first time I saw Ariela, I thought she was one tough little nut. There she was, knocked out cold one minute, then fighting with the paramedics the next. Not only would she not admit she was hurt, but she insisted on going back to work. I actually wondered if I was the only reason she finally cooperated and agreed to go in for a check-up.”

“You were,” Ariela admitted
sheepishly.

Jean slapped the top of the table. “I don’t believe it! Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

Dylan laughed, linking his fingers with Ariela’s. “Don’t kid yourself, Jean. She’s a fighter.”

Just for that, Ariela rewarded him with a
tender, lingering kiss.

Jean raised a glass to them both and winked.
“At least your finickiness finally paid off.”

Dylan drew back
from the kiss with a smile. “Care to explain?”

Ron and Jean both chuckled.

Ariela rolled her eyes. “Why don’t I take this one—and feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong, okay?”

“Only too happy.”
Jean agreed rather sweetly.

Ariela
snorted. “I knew I could count on you.” Turning to Dylan, she said, “From what I understand, Jean and Ron think my standards have always been a little too high where men are concerned.” She glanced over and they both nodded. “I imagine I’ve been the object of a lot of discussion and speculation on the subject. Right, again?”

Jean laughed and Ron grinned.

“Which explains the eight months,” Dylan added, understanding a little more now.

He remembered the length of
my sexual dry spell? Incredible.

“
Eight months? What’s eight months?” Ron asked.

“Never mind,” the other three answered
simultaneously, setting off another laugh around the table.

“Why am
I
different?” Dylan asked Ariela, his voice soft.

“I’ve been wondering that myself.” Jean broke in. “No offense,” she added when Dylan looked at her.

“None taken,” he excused her easily enough.

Ariela wasn’t exactly prepared to discuss this on the spot, but when she looked into his dazzling
lapis eyes, she wanted to try. Squeezing his hand she said, “When we met, I literally didn’t know what hit me.” She laughed, and he smiled. “I was in a pretty vulnerable position right then. But when I woke up and saw your eyes and heard your voice, somehow I knew I was in good hands—the right hands. It was strange, because I’ve never trusted anyone instantly before. I knew you were looking out for me. I was safe. That’s why I agreed to go to the hospital, even though I felt ridiculous.”

She
was still amazed at how this man came into her life. “So many other people would have left me with the bike messenger, made him take the responsibility. You didn’t. You stayed with me.”

Dylan squeezed her hand. “Walking away from people who need help is harder than you think.
”

Ariela bristled at the private
reminder those innocuous words held. She turned from his intent gaze, furious with him all over again. And they’d been getting along so nicely too.

“
But, one look at you, and I knew where I had to be,” he finished.

“I get it
.” She crossed her arms, feeling peevish now. “You would never turn your back on someone.”

She was shocked when his face fell and he no longer saw her, though he was looking right at her.

“A lot of times you don’t have a choice. I can’t load up every single refugee and haul them to safety. I can’t walk up and disarm the guys with machine guns, scaring people away from the only water source for a hundred miles. I can’t feed every desperate person I meet or take their starving children with me. If I couldn’t disconnect, I’d be haunted right over the side of a bridge.”

He took a swallow of water and tried to wave the
dark and depressing mood away with an apology, but Ron and Jean wanted to hear more. Ariela, however, didn’t. His words, his passion, cut her to the bone.

Dylan relented when pressed.
“In my job, I’ve seen everything humanity has to serve up—the good and the bad. Some of it’ll give you nightmares. You try to remain objective, or at least appear objective, but even that can be a challenge. For instance, say you finally land a choice interview with a violent warlord and he glibly justifies his actions and all the murders with bullshit. If you aren’t careful how you couch your questions, or your expression gives your true feelings away, you won’t live long. At the very least, it’ll make it tougher to keep working. So you bury your reactions to keep them from eating away your insides. To be a journalist, you have to learn to separate yourself professionally in order to do the job. On my own time, I refuse to do it. I need to counter that detachment whenever I get the chance.”

“That’s why you went back for Hanna.” Ariela stared at him, finally understanding how much she’d asked this remarkable man to give up. Would he eventually hate her for it? He’d said he could walk away from it—that he had—but was that true? Who was he actually lying to here? The more she thought about it, the more she believed he was lying to himself. How many people had he lost before it sent him into a haunted retreat and into her arms? With the three she just learned about this week, she knew of four people he cared about in the last five months. How many hadn’t he mentioned to her? How many nameless people had he mourned? She’d had two. She was way behind his numbers, and yet, she’d tried to play the sympathy card to justify her ultimatum. What was wrong with her?

Journalism was in his blood. The time would come when he felt that relentless p
ull to return to the work so admirably suited to him. She couldn’t stand between him and a calling like that. Obviously he’d needed more balance than he’d had. He found her when he was most vulnerable, most in need of love and comfort. Even a man could long for a little security, especially after so much insecurity. But how much time did that give them before he felt the tug again? Was she strong enough to kiss him goodbye when he left?

To Ariela
’s horror, she finally understood her mother a little better too. She wasn’t as weak as Ariela supposed. She’d endured the daily risks of her husband’s job with a brave smile, steady in her love and support. It wasn’t until his death that she’d cracked. Even without her parents’ history and commitment, her love for Dylan made her appreciation for her mom’s pain stronger than ever.

It looked like her choice would come down to eventually being the woman he had to leave in order to be whole, or the person he wanted to return to because she made him feel whole. Either way, he
’d eventually pack his bag.

“
Ariela?” Dylan broke into her thoughts.

“
Huh?” She jumped and looked around, startled to see all eyes on her—again.

Dylan took her hand. “
I might have helped you in the beginning, but I never expected you’d help me too. You restored my optimism, something I didn’t even know I’d lost.” He looked over at Jean. “Thank you for including me in your little celebration tonight.” Lifting his glass, Dylan raised his eyebrows at Ariela, waiting for her to join him.

Oh god, another toast
? Unable to forget the shot glasses they’d raised the night before, she picked up her champagne flute.

“Here’s to your future
, and your coming family. Congratulations.” Everyone reached into the middle of the table and clinked rims.

“
Congratulations,” Ariela repeated with a shaky smile.

**
*

“
Maybe you should move in with me,” Dylan suggested on the way home.

Ariela turned
her head so fast, her neck cracked. “What changed your mind?”

“
I never changed my mind.”

“
Here we go again,” she muttered, watching the city streak past her dark window.

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
You’re telling me you didn’t change your mind simply to avoid hurting my feelings for hesitating earlier.”

“
What
?”

“
You hold back.”

“
I do not.” He fell silent, pensive. “Okay, maybe I do sometimes. You were reviewing the changes taking place in your life. I was doing the same thing.”

“
Do you honestly want me there?”