What Mattered Most (13 page)

The coastal drive didn’t take long enough. Fiddling with her seatbelt, Lanie stared out the window. Where before the sight of the ocean, the boardwalk and the colorful homes had been her favorite part of the drive home, the familiar landmarks only heightened her anxiety. Her stomach tightened, and her heart thudded against her ribs in a rough, uncomfortable rhythm. The ache in her head intensified.

The driveway was empty—only her car sat under the carport. Lanie took a deep breath and stared at her house, the memories skittering through her mind, pinching her with sharp claws. She pushed the car door open and sat a moment, trying to gather her strength. Caitlin appeared at the side of the car with a smile of encouragement on her face.

Climbing the long front steps took forever and left her feeling wrung out. Blinking back tears, she tried not to remember that climbing them while pregnant had been easier.

The house smelled different, and she paused in the foyer, leaning on Caitlin’s supportive arm, attempting to decipher the difference. Cinnamon and vanilla mingled with something cleaner, softer. Baby powder. The weak tears threatened again.

The sheer drapes in the living room, thrown wide, let the weak winter sunlight fill the room. John’s leather chair had been pushed to one side to make room for a battery-operated baby swing. A couple of tiny diapers, a bottle of baby powder, and a box of wipes shared the coffee table with the newspaper and a sports magazine. The portable bassinet sat at the end of the couch, empty.

Unease stirred in her stomach. The house was too quiet, too empty. The last time it had been this quiet, it had been far from empty. Remembered fear sent bile pushing up her throat.

“O’Reilly left you a note.” Caitlin’s voice pulled her back from the abyss. Lanie released her fingers from their death grip on the couch’s back and glanced at her cousin. Eyes narrowed in concern, Caitlin handed her the piece of paper.

Ran out of formula. Went to store. Be back soon.

She crumpled the note and John’s typical telegraphic words. Panic washed through her in waves. She couldn’t do this—couldn’t live in this house with him under these circumstances. He had to go. If Caitlin wouldn’t stay, she could hire someone. Her lungs closed, refusing to allow air in.

“Lanie.” Caitlin’s cool fingers caught her wrist. “Breathe. Slowly. In and out. Come on—that’s it.”

The rush of emotion subsided but left her knees weak. Agony pounded behind her eyes. She rubbed a hand over her face and blew out a shaky sigh.

“We’re getting you into bed.” Caitlin’s voice brooked no arguments. “Can you manage the stairs or do you want—”

“I can make it.”

Again, the climb was arduous. If the effort hadn’t taken her breath, the sight of her bedroom would have. The stamp of John’s personality was gone from the room. The bare top of his bureau glared at her. The closet door stood open, revealing his half to be empty.

Alarm exploded in her head. The note had been a ruse. He hadn’t gone to the store, but had ignored the court order, taken her baby and disappeared. Sagging, she groped for Caitlin’s hand. “Cait…he…he’s gone.”

Caitlin’s sharp gaze darted around the room, but her voice remained soothing. “We don’t know that—”

“Check the baby’s room.” She envisioned it in her mind, the bureau drawers open, the tiny T-shirts and blankets gone. The panic in her voice frightened her. Caitlin made no effort to move, and the fearful anger flashed through her again. “Now! Please!”

Eyes closed, Lanie slumped against the door frame. Why had she trusted him? She should have known he’d do something like this—hadn’t he shown her he couldn’t be counted on? Tears slipped down her face and clogged her throat. He could be anywhere.

“Lanie, calm down.” Caitlin’s hand smoothed the tears from her cheeks. “His clothes are in the baby’s closet, and it looks like he’s been sleeping on the daybed in there. He just moved out of your room.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be. Want me to check the bathroom?” Wry patience colored the words.

Lanie nodded. Caitlin disappeared into the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between the two bedrooms and returned moments later. “All his toiletries are still here. Looks like he went to the store. I tell you what. You get into bed and give me his cell phone number. I’ll call and find out exactly where he is.”

Exhausted, Lanie let Caitlin put her to bed. The smooth sheets smelled clean and fresh, with no trace of John’s scent. Lanie drew the covers to her chin. Caitlin picked up the pad and pen from the nightstand. “What’s his cell number?”

Eyes closed, Lanie searched her memory for the familiar number. The digits didn’t come. She reached out for them, and nothing happened. A void answered her. Tears slipped between her lashes, and she lifted them to stare up at Caitlin. “I can’t remember.”

“Okay.” Caitlin brushed the damp hair away from Lanie’s face. “You don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Don’t worry? She couldn’t remember a phone number she knew by heart. What else had she lost? She clutched the pillow, the fear growing until it pulsed in the room, an entity unto itself.

When Lanie woke, darkness lay outside the window. The bedside light glowed, casting shadows in the empty closet. She lay on her side, staring at the bare hangers on the rod. A cold lump settled in her stomach.

Delicious aromas hung in the air—the scent of sizzling steak and spicy peppers. The lump grew. John was cooking. Male voices drifted up the stairs, and Lanie recognized Dennis Burnett’s deep drawl. She forced her muscles into relaxation. If Dennis were here, Caitlin hadn’t abandoned her yet. She wasn’t alone with John.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the sight of that empty closet. With a deep breath, she shifted her thoughts to the doctor’s discharge instructions. Rest, limited physical activity, keep her stitches—both sets—clean and dry. Nothing but sponge baths until the incisions healed. She shuddered, wanting nothing more right now than a long soak in the oversized tub.

Unbidden, the memory rose of the last time she’d soaked in that tub. John shucking his shirt and pants so that the candlelight gleamed along the taut muscles of his arms, stomach, thighs. His deep voice rumbling along her nerves as he climbed into the tub with her, water sloshing onto the floor. Warmth flashed through her, followed by the unrelenting anger. That was not what she needed to remember—she needed to remember his deceit, what his wide grin kept hidden from her.

Clinging to the anger, she opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She just had to keep reminding herself of the way he’d pretended with her, and while he played daddy with the baby, she would count all those missed doctor’s appointments.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

With cautious movements, she shifted to sit against the pillows and met Caitlin’s affectionate gaze. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of hours.” Caitlin came into the room and sat on the foot of the bed, feet tucked under her. Her linked hands hugged her knees in a loose hold. “Feel better?”

“I guess.” Lanie’s gaze strayed to that empty closet again. She pulled it back with an effort but avoided the knowing expression in Caitlin’s green eyes. “Did you book a flight?”

Caitlin nodded. “I’m staying a couple more days, just until you get settled in. Dennis is here to see how you’re doing.”

Male laughter rumbled up the stairs, and Caitlin shot a cynical glance at the door. Lanie pulled her knees up as far as her sore stomach would allow. “Sounds like male bonding.”

Caitlin brushed her hair back. “Seems O’Reilly shares my ex’s obsession with old cars. They’ve been discussing their dream rides for the last hour. That, and swapping cop stories. Are you hungry? If you don’t feel like coming downstairs, I’ll bring something up and hang out with you.”

“No.” Lanie shook her head and immediately regretted the movement. She might as well remind him right now that he only remained in the house because she allowed him to. Recuperating or not, she had no intention of being a prisoner in her own bedroom. “I’ll come downstairs.”

The whitewashed pine table held the bright Mexican pottery plates they’d found at a junk shop in Corpus Christi. A platter of steaming stuffed tomatoes sat next to a large bowl of mixed greens. Ice water sparkled in swirled painted goblets, and fury sizzled along her nerves. Beth had given her those goblets for her last birthday. Was he that insensitive?

Dumb question, Falconetti. The man is oblivious to everything but his own wants and needs. Don’t forget that.

She dug her fingers into the hard wooden chair back. In the kitchen, John transferred shrimp skewers from the stovetop grill to another platter, and Dennis arranged strip steaks next to the seafood. Hurt seared through her. When Caitlin had called and said she was visiting for a couple of days, this was what Lanie wanted—dinner, laughter, happiness. Only this wasn’t that—this was a travesty of that vision.

Like having a baby with a man who didn’t love her.

Glad her white-knuckled grip on the chair hid her trembling hands, she watched Caitlin bend over the bassinet. “He’s sound asleep.”

Lanie looked at the baby and wondered if her face showed as much wistful hunger as Caitlin’s. Head covered by a fuzzy blue hat with embroidered ducks, he lay on his back, arms on either side of his head. An impulse to pick him up and hold him close surged through her, but the unrelenting fear kept her still.

“Wait until two in the morning.” John’s dry voice near her ear sent a startled quiver over Lanie’s skin. He leaned around her to set the platter of steak and shrimp on the table. His clean, spicy scent filled her nose. “He’ll be wide awake and ready to tank up.”

His hand rested on the chair back next to hers, and she could feel the warmth his skin radiated. She stepped back and glared at him, but without a word, he pulled out the chair for her and walked back to the kitchen.

After a brief hesitation, she sat, hoping Caitlin would take the seat next to hers. Instead, her cousin sat across the table, so when the men joined them, John sat inches away from Lanie. With him so close she could feel the warmth of his body, she was glad for the activity of passing platters, filling plates and eating. Lost in the effort of ignoring him, she took several minutes to catch the direction of Dennis and John’s conversation.

“So the desk work doesn’t bother you?” John stabbed a shrimp with his fork.

Dennis lifted his water goblet. “Only at budget time. I still get out on the road every so often, and that relieves the monotony.”

“But your hours are regular?”

“Pretty much. So you’re seriously considering this?” Dennis stretched his arm along the back of Caitlin’s chair, his fingers brushing her upper arm.

John shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of months of leave left, so I don’t have to rush into a decision. But, yeah, I’m looking at it. I passed my sergeant’s exam—”

“You passed your exam?” The words slipped out before Lanie could stop them. He’d been waiting on those results forever.

With a quick glance at her, John nodded. “Yeah. I tried to tell you, but it was the same day the baby furniture was delivered. You weren’t real focused on what I was saying… It doesn’t matter.”

She ran her fingertip around the rim of her goblet, trying to suppress the tiny spurt of guilt. Had she been so focused on the nursery furniture that she’d misread his excitement? “So you’ll advance to sergeant detective, right?”

He chuckled, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Or desk sergeant in the records division.”

Desk sergeant? During the last year, she’d watched him thrive on the challenges of working homicide, and he was talking about a desk job? Who was this man, and what had he done with the real John O’Reilly?

She looked for answers during the remainder of dinner, but didn’t find any. Listening to the men talk about hot rods, she poked at her food. She wanted the evening over, but didn’t want Caitlin to go either.

The inevitable couldn’t be postponed, though. Finally, with Dennis claiming exhaustion, Caitlin stood to hug Lanie. “You don’t have to walk us out. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.” Unease gathered in her stomach, but Lanie forced a smile. As John walked them to the door, she rose and began stacking plates.

“I’ll get those.” Laughter tinged John’s voice, and she startled, unaware until he spoke that he’d returned to the room. She was suddenly, achingly aware of being alone with him.

“What is so funny?” she snapped.

He set the plates on the counter and returned for a pair of goblets. “Your cousin and your boss. He’s still hot for her, and she has no clue.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t catch it?” He shot a glance over his shoulder at her, a grin quirking at his mouth. “Hell, Lanie, she accidentally nudged his leg under the table. I thought he’d come out of his skin.”

“And
you
would notice that.”

He lifted the platters. “Actually, I was thinking how much I missed having you tease me under the table. How much I miss you, period.”

His words left her speechless. In the bassinet, the baby stirred with a soft cough. Lanie watched John lean over him, adjusting the blanket. The affection on his face was all too real, everything she’d dreamed of seeing on his face when he looked at their son. The emotion, the conversation, the enforced closeness was all too much.

The anger snapped to life. “What are you doing?”

He straightened to look at her. Wariness took over his navy gaze. “What do you mean?”

Lanie waved a hand at the table, the living room, the bassinet. “This. Cooking. The whole perfect-daddy thing. The desk sergeant’s job. What are you doing?”

He swallowed, the muscles in his throat moving in a convulsive thrust. “Honey, I—”

“Don’t you dare call me that.” When he reached for her, she shoved him away, the exhausting effort barely moving him. She flung out her hands again, and the jerky motion toppled a goblet. Water flowed across the table, but neither of them moved. “Do you think my letting you stay changes anything?”

He stared at her, his face pale and gaunt, and she hated him for staying, for not leaving when he’d had the chance to go with Beth. She leaned closer, teeth clenched to prevent her from screaming at him, her voice a raw whisper instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do. Nothing changes what you did.”

Water dribbled onto the floor, a muffled splatter rising as it hit the carpet. He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m trying to show you—”

“No.” She shook her head, pain shooting along the incision, digging deep into her senses.

“I know I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Hurt me?” The anger flared, drowning the pain, drowning everything but the overwhelming urge to strike back. “You ruined my life. You ruined everything! I wish I’d never met you, that I’d never gotten…”

The awful words died in her throat, and she stared at him, his blue eyes blazing in his pale face. He swallowed again. “I’m sorry for a lot of things, Lanie, but I can’t be sorry about that baby. Not about having him.”

She backed away, shaking her head. Why was he saying this now? Why not when it would have mattered? She forced a whisper past numb lips. “I hate you, O’Reilly.”

Instead of fleeing as she wanted, she took the stairs with maddening slowness, feeling his gaze on her the whole way. In the bedroom, she remembered the sleeping baby and restrained the urge to slam the door. The empty closet mocked her, and she fought the racking sobs attacking her body. Curled up on the bed, she wrapped her arms around a pillow and stared out at the waves.

Light glittered along a silver pool on her nightstand. Reaching out, she tangled her fingers in the silver chain and lifted the infinity pendant. It dangled from her hand, light reflecting along the links and the stylized swoop. She wrapped her hand around the pendant and drew it close, the edges cutting into her palm.