Just My Luck (40 page)

When he’d gone to visit his family without her, she’d wiped away tears all the way home from the airport. No matter how desperately she tried to school her wayward heart, it insisted on being his. And she was becoming increasingly afraid that he didn’t want it.

She’d start out by seeing how thoroughly she could distract him tonight, she decided. And maybe then, maybe now there could be more. With that in mind—and with no Kristen to give her any other outfit advice—she went back to the leather skirt and lace top. An oldie but a goodie.

And when Nate arrived, the look in his eyes told her it still worked. He focused on her over dinner, too. Answered her questions about the game, talked about the upcoming trip to South Africa and Argentina with more attention than he’d been showing her lately. Although his attentive-boyfriend manner could, she conceded, have more to do with wanting to unzip her skirt than anything else, because she could tell that he definitely wanted to do that too.  

 He did do that, after dinner. And he seemed to enjoy it just as much as the first time.

“I’m glad we finally had some time together,” she said softly, running her hand over his chest afterwards. He’d made love to her with his usual thoroughness, and even more than his usual inventiveness—the leather skirt, probably—but she could almost feel his mind drifting away from her now. Away from this moment.

“Yeh,” he sighed, his arm draped around her, his hand absently stroking her shoulder. “But this is going to have to be it for a while.”

She felt the cold, held at bay during the past few hours, begin to seep back in. “I thought . . .” She paused, then decided to say it. “Since you don’t have to leave for four more days, and you’ll be gone for more than two weeks afterwards, that maybe we could take a little more time. Have another night, maybe even two, before you go. I’d like to spend more time with you.”

He could think that was demanding, if he wanted. Too bad. Forget being a low-maintenance girlfriend. This was just being taken for granted, and she hated it.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He let go of her, pulled himself up to sit against the pillows. “I think we should take a break for a bit. I have too much to focus on just now, too much on my mind, to be involved. The team’s finally getting a bit of traction, and I need to keep that going. I can’t do the boyfriend thing right, and it’s not fair to you.”

“In other words,” she said slowly, sitting up herself, pulling the sheet and duvet over a body that had suddenly grown cold, “you’re not ready for a serious relationship right now.”

“That’s it,” he said with relief. “I’m not.”

The cold was being replaced by fire now, little flames of anger licking up from her chest. She threw the covers back and got out of bed, bent down to find her discarded clothes.

“Ally,” he said urgently. “I don’t mean break up. I mean take a break, for both our sakes. See where we are after the Championship. It’s just another month or so.”

She ignored that. If he didn’t know that that wasn’t how it worked, this was hopeless. She pulled on her underwear with a jerk, took three tries to fasten her bra, her hands were shaking so badly.

“Kristen told me,” she got out, hearing her voice tremble and hating it, “that when the guy says that, about not being ready, that’s when you get up and put your clothes back on. Because what he’s really saying is, this is a one-night stand. That it’s going to be short, like you said, remember? But you didn’t even give me the chance, did you?” She’d found her skirt now, was yanking it around her hips, fastening the zip. “No, you made sure you got off first.
Then
you told me.”

“Because I wanted to see you,” he protested. “And because, when I
do
see you, I want to be with you.”

“You see me, and you want to go to bed. Too bad we wasted time having dinner, then, isn’t it? Sure you don’t want to reconsider?” She pulled her top over her head, settling it into place with a few quick tugs. “Maybe we should just redefine our terms, huh? How about if we kept it to the occasional booty call? Would that work for you?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He was getting up himself now, reaching for his own clothes. Starting to look mad, like he had some right to be. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying to be fair. Not to disappoint you, have you expect something I don’t have to give right now.”

“Like love,” she shot back. “Because that would be so
distracting,
wouldn’t it? Do you really think you’re going to do better, that the team’s going to win every game if you just focus on rugby 24/7? If you don’t give yourself anything else at all, even the chance to relax with somebody who loves you?”

“That’s right,” she went on, seeing him flinch. “I’m going to say the big, scary L-word again. I love you. And I want to help you, and I think I can. I think I
do.
You need to lighten up, Nate. You don’t need to work harder, you need to work—easier. You need to take a break with somebody who loves you whether you win or lose, whether you’re the captain or not. You can’t be this . . . this lonely hero, doing everything by yourself, never sharing any of the load with anybody. You can’t keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing yourself, or
you’re
the one who’s going to break.”

She could see the controlled anger in every movement as he pulled on his pants with a jerk, yanked the zip up, fastened his belt with a final shove, then faced her across the big bed. Straight on, jaw set.

“You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be in my position,” he told her, and there was none of the warmth he’d showed her in the past. Nothing at all there for her. “You have no idea how much focus it takes every week, how much effort it takes every
day
to do this job. What’s it like to never be allowed to have a down day, an off day. To be so bloody tired and sore you can hardly put one foot in front of the other, and then to have to lift again, get your passion back, put your body back out there to do it all again. Every single bloody week, over and over again, ten months a year.”

“Yes I
do,”
she began to insist, but he interrupted her.

“You don’t,” he said. “You can’t. And maybe,” he added, his eyes as hard and cold as ice, “if you spent more time thinking about succeeding in your own life and less time worrying about mine, you might actually get somewhere yourself, wouldn’t have to do it all through me.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” She knew that would hurt later, when she remembered it. She had to force herself to go on, to hurry and say this, because any moment now, she was going to start crying. “That I’m a loser who’s never accomplished anything? I’m not good enough for the captain of the All Blacks? All right, I might not have much of a career, but at least I have relationships. I know how to love somebody, and be there for them. I know how to love
you.
And you can’t even accept it. You can’t even let me love you.”

The tears were there, then, and not even her anger could quell them or the hurt that swamped her. Because what he was really saying was that he couldn’t love her. That he didn’t love her, and he was tired of pretending. She tried to wipe them away, tried to stop them falling, but she couldn’t.

She sobbed once, twice. Tried to get herself back under control one more time, and failed again. Grabbed for her shoes, shoved them on.

“Ally,” he said, and he looked so wretched that, despite herself, she felt sorry for him. Because she loved him, and even now, his pain was her own. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Let me take you home, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

She shook her head blindly. She’d dropped her purse when they’d come in, she remembered. She took off fast down the stairs, heard his bare feet hitting the steps behind her. Found her purse in the entryway and reached for the door handle.

“I’ll take you home,” he said again. “It’s late.”

“No,” she got out through her tears. “No.” And she was out the door, down the steep flights of concrete stairs, swinging herself around the landings. Stopping to pull off the stupid high heels that she’d worn, trying to be a girl. Trying to be the kind of woman he’d want, the kind that would keep him interested. The kind he could fall in love with.

She held the shoes in one hand, ran barefoot down the concrete path, down onto the road, trying to move fast enough to leave the tears behind.

“Ally!” she heard Nate shout behind her, sounding furious. Another two blocks, and she could hear his car approaching, slowing to keep pace with her as he buzzed down the window.

“Get in the car,” he said. “Right now.”

“Go
away,”
she got out, swiping a hand under her nose, not even caring that he saw her do it. “Leave me alone!”

“You can’t run all the way home,” he said, still pacing her. “You’re not even wearing shoes, and it’s too late. I’m only going to tell you once more. Get in the bloody car, or I’ll put you there.”

She’d reached the path through the park now, though. Was ducking onto it, picking up speed again as she raced down the hill. Running home. Running away.

And this time, he didn’t come after her.

Ups and Downs

Ally had slept at last, tears and emotion finally exhausting her, was still lying in bed when she was awakened by the sound of Liam and Kristen’s voices in the bedroom next door. She thought about getting up, but quickly changed her mind as she heard the sound of dresser drawers opening and shutting, hangers clattering. Kristen packing, because Liam wanted her there with him as long as possible before he had to leave. Was bringing her here to change and pack a bag, probably taking her to work so he could pick her up again afterwards. So he could spend time with her.

The thought made the tears rise again, and she buried her face under the pillow so the two of them wouldn’t hear her sobs. If Kristen saw her, she’d know. And Liam would know too, and they’d both feel sorry for her. When Kristen came home again, when they were alone, she’d tell her then.

A few minutes later, she heard the flat door closing. She got up, unable to sleep any longer. Pulled a dressing gown over the underwear that was all she had worn to bed, when she’d been too tired and dispirited to shower and change, even to wash her dirty feet, which felt truly disgusting by now. That was going to be her first job this morning, she vowed. Take a shower, and scrub her feet. Right after she got a cup of tea to help her wake up.

She went into the neat little kitchen, found a note on the table, penned in Kristen’s loopy handwriting.

Hi Ally

I’ll be at Liam’s till they go.

Don’t need the car, use it.

See you Thurs.—hope you had fun with N.

XXX Kristen

Oh, yeah. Fun.

“Hey, roomie,” Ally said when she came home from work Thursday night, grateful to find Kristen, at last, ensconced in her evening spot, curled up on the couch under a throw, watching an old movie on TV.

“Hi!” Kristen said, hastily getting up and coming over to give Ally a hug.

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Ally smiled.

“Want to know why?”

“Why?” Ally played along. “Because you finally got rid of Liam?”

Kristen giggled. Actually giggled. Stood back from Ally and held out her left hand. “I’m engaged!”

“Wow,” Ally said blankly. Then looked at Kristen’s shining face, and laughed. “Wow! That’s great!”

“And wow again,” she said, taking another look at the ring. “That thing’s a pretty big reason to be happy all by itself. You could put somebody’s eye out with that. Or come out way ahead in a street fight.”

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Kristen demanded.

“Not a diamond, huh? I’m kind of surprised. Liam seems like a traditional guy. But that’s, what, a sapphire?”

“Uh-huh,” Kristen agreed, taking another peek at the ring herself, twisting it so the big stone reflected the light. Which was also getting picked up pretty well, Ally noticed, in the many pavé diamonds winking brilliantly from the graduated ovals that made up the platinum band on either side. It really
was
beautiful.

“We both wanted something different,” Kristen went on. “Something special for us, different from anything from . . . before. And he said,” she sighed, “something that matched my eyes.”

“He’s a pretty romantic guy,” Ally smiled, going over to sit on the couch with her friend, swiping a sip from her cup of herbal tea.

“He is,” Kristen said happily. “Can I show you how he proposed? Would you want to see?”

“What?” Ally asked, startled. “He recorded it?”

“No,” Kristen laughed. “But lots of other people did.”

She bounced up again, went for her laptop, and clicked on a link that, to Ally’s amusement, she’d bookmarked.

“Just how many times have you watched this?” Ally teased.

“Well, not too many times before today,” Kristen said. “Not when I had him right there with me. But today, since they left? Ummm, I’d call it . . .” She smiled. “Lots.”

When Ally had watched it all the way through, then had Kristen start it over so she could watch it again, she could see why.

“Wow.” She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand with a laugh, reached for Kristen and gave her a hug. “You do realize, of course, that men all over the world are cursing Liam’s name right now. Because he’s just reset the bar. “

“He’s so wonderful, isn’t he?” Kristen sighed. “I’m so lucky, I can’t believe it. And I know I sound so sappy,” she added with a little laugh. “But I can’t help it. I just love him so much.”

“That’s great.” Ally found that she really meant it. “That’s wonderful. Have you talked about the wedding?”

“This summer, we thought, since we don’t have to schedule too far ahead for people in the U.S. Hannah and Drew are already here, and my brother Matt never needs too much notice, He’s always ready to quit a job to go someplace new. We’re thinking December, after the All Blacks get back from the European Tour. And at Liam’s marae, though Hannah and Drew offered their place, of course. But Liam says his mother would never forgive him if it wasn’t at the marae, And a Maori wedding—won’t that be terrific?”