Conditional Offer Page 15

  Don't be a hysteric Victorian over dramatizing everything.

  But oh, how much she missed him.

  She wrapped her entire body around him. Arms, legs, lips, tongues, teeth, all tangled in an urgent swirl. She gasped, loving the sensation of his length at the sudden tilt and thrust of his hips. "God." She sighed, pressing against him.

  "Still just me, actually," He pulled out slow, teasing her, then shoved in high and hard, never taking his eyes from hers. A tear fell, he kissed it away, his lips soft, in distinct contrast to his lower body which had taken on an edge of urgency. She met him thrust for thrust, dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  "Harder," she whispered.

  He flipped around so he was leaning against the wall. Put his hands on her hips and ground against her before threading a hand in her hair and yanking her face to his. "Is this it then?" his voice was so rough she barely understood him. His lips were so firm, his tongue so damn delicious. "One last fuck?"

  She broke away, lifted up and slid back down onto his shaft. The orgasm hovered, just out of reach. Her brain tried to shut down but she was so happy to be here, back with him. Reasons and motivations be damned. This was where she belonged and she could finally admit it. "I love you. So much Craig. Please. Ah…shit."

  She wrapped her arms around his head, held him close as he took one of her nipples between his lips. He sucked hard, dragging that orgasm kicking and screaming out into the light of day. She groaned as her body shuddered and her vision dimmed. The sheer rightness, the utter completeness crawled up her spine, settled in behind her eyes making them leak yet more infernal tears.

  "Gonna come. I'm… Jesus." He pushed hard into her, reaching high and she felt him, sensed his cock stiffen, jerk and spill. This time, no image of unattainable baby made her gasp. A different vision spilled into her brain. She and Craig, together. Just the two of them.

  His hips kept moving into her. Their bodies stayed intertwined. He met her lips, kissed her but just as she was about to wind her fingers in his hair he lifted her up and off him, then swam away a few feet. She held onto the side a sudden panic in her chest. "Craig," she whispered. "I love you."

  He lifted himself out of the water. Giving her a full glimpse of the lean, tone of his body. His silence scared her. She leaned on the side, chin on her hands, watching him. "Did you hear me or are you just – "

  He whirled on her, his dark eyes unfathomable, which told her all she needed to know. "Ignoring you? No Suzanne. I'm not ignoring you. But I don't know…." he dropped back into the seat.

  She climbed out, the reticence she'd used for so long with him slipping back into place. She frowned at herself. Stop it Suzanne. Don't hold back. This is your last fucking chance.

  She wrapped a towel around herself, stood in front of him. Expecting him to hold out his arms to her, she reminded herself that she deserved this. Every minute of his cold shoulder she had earned, in spades. She slipped onto his lap and buried her nose in his neck. "I know. I do know. But I want this. I want to make it work. I…."

  He shoved her to the seat, off his lap, surprising her with his roughness. She frowned at his back, still trying to remain humble, to make amends for her bullshit. So many years of holding him off. Of making his dark eyes hurt. Of disappointing him. She wrapped her arms around her knees, at a loss. "Does it matter that I want this? That I'm sorry? That I love you?"

  He shouldered his way into the locker room without a word. She bit her lip. By the time he'd emerged she'd redressed. He put his hands on his now jeans clad hips. She resisted the urge to just go to him. To lick the line of pool water that dripped from his hair onto his neck. "It matters." He kept his voice low. "Just like it mattered to you. How much I loved you. How many times I said it. How much I tried to convince you that you were exactly what I wanted."

  She sucked in a breath. But he held up a hand. "Let me finish." He closed the gap between them, gripped her arms and kissed her, bringing light to the edges of her vision. She gasped when he tore his lips away. "But I don't think we can do this. I have to … I need … someone who loves me not because she feels sorry for herself or for me. But because she really, truly loves me."

  "I do... I – " he put two fingers over her lips cutting her off.

  "No. You don't. But I had fun and all." His dark eyes were cold but it was nothing compared to the moment when he turned and left her there, alone, without another word or even a backward glance.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  One Month Later

  Suzanne lay in the bed for nearly a half second too long. She lurched up and stumbled into the bathroom of her small downtown condo. The room spun, the floor seemed to rise and meet her. She clutched at the toilet for dear life and let the contents of her stomach empty. Her gut clenched. She groaned and rinsed her mouth out.

  Waiting for the room to settle, she did a mental recount of the booze from the night before. It was no real surprise she'd lost her cookies. She'd sat with Evan and Julie and a bunch of Tap Room regulars, drank way to much beer, then switched to bourbon much too late for grownups. But typically, after a quick hurl she could throw it off. That "quick hurl" happened, like three hours ago. She couldn't seem to stop. "Damn." She gulped water straight from the faucet, trying to ease her severe dry mouth.

  The floor of the bathroom had never looked so comfy. She slid down the wall, gathered a towel in her arms and cried. By the time she got past that sudden burst of emotion she hauled herself to her feet. Wobbling her way into the kitchen she choked down some saltines, made some weak tea. Her phone rang, but she ignored it after assessing it was once again, not Craig. He would not return her calls, her emails, anything. She truly had blown it. Their paths never crossed. She worked on autopilot most days, growing the brewery sales, doing her job. Came home and collapsed after sending yet one more unanswered email to him.

  The fierce determination that had fueled her was fading. And she hated it. Jack texted her. "Hey. Can you talk?"

  She grabbed the phone in no mood for Gordon drama. "No."

  He called within seconds. "What?" She barked into the device.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Oh, you know, I just managed to toss away the most amazing man in the universe. Twice. And this one I could get back. But he won't return my calls."

  "Ah the esteemed doctor."

  "Yeah. So I go to my original question – what?"

  "Want me to talk to him?"

  "Jesus, Jack, no. Stay out of it. You have your own issues."

  "Um, well, okay." He stayed silent.

  "Okay." She shut her eyes. "You and Sara are – "

  "Working through it. Truly. I nearly got my shit kicked by my good buddy, Rob. We went away for a week. She read me the riot act then had a small nervous breakdown. The usual. But things are better."

  His voice sounded steady for the first time in months. She smiled. "Things all set for the memorial weekend, right?"

  "Yeah, I have B&B names and –"

  "I already know where I can stay." She shut her eyes to block the onrush of memories.

  "All right. You and the good doctor, if you want him to be there."

  She sighed, rose and had to run to the bathroom as the few bites of food she'd ingested decided to make a sudden reappearance. "I gotta go," She choked out. "I'll be there."

  It was a close run thing, but she made it to the toilet just in time.

  She brushed her teeth, trying not to gag on toothpaste, and wiped her face. Her eyes were sunk in their sockets, her face pale. She looked like shit and felt just as bad. When the doorbell rang she nearly jumped a mile. Then made her slow way across the living room, and peered through the peephole at an unfamiliar couple standing in the hall. She opened the door, ordering herself to not be sick all over their shoes. "Hi, can I help you?

  "Yes, Hi. Sorry to barge in on you but…" the woman held out a hand. "I'm Lillian. Craig's sister-in-law."

  Suzanne's shoulders slumped as she took in the tall blonde-haired,
dark-eyed man next to her who could be none other than Craig's brother. "Hi, I'm Rick," he said. His lopsided grin looked exactly like Craig's.

  "Come in." She held the door open, more than a little freaked out by their appearance.

  They sat in painfully awkward silence, hands wrapped around glasses of iced tea. Her gorge kept threatening to rise, but she held it back and listened. "Um, so, what brings you to Ann Arbor?" she asked biting back the urge to ask the "how the hell do you know where I live" half of that question.

  Rick leaned on the table, pinning her with a set of very familiar brown eyes. "Okay, so small talk seems like a waste of time. We came here to tell you one thing. That I love my brother. And he is miserable. And... well," Rick rubbed the back of her neck. The effort to not puke took all her energy, so Suzanne stayed quiet.

  Lillian spoke next, putting a cool hand on Suzanne's arm. "He loves you. A lot. He's told me over the years." She grabbed Suzanne's hand, startling her. "I'm so sorry for all you've been through. It's all so very awful." Lillian leaned forward, keeping Suzanne's hand in a death grip. "Don't hurt him. I mean, he's not perfect and god knows a lot of that is our fault, but… he's special, you know?" Suzanne nodded still speechless. "And we were sent here as the ambassadors. To tell you that you need to stop being so stubborn. Love him back."

  Suzanne gulped. "That's nice. But I've tried, and I think he's no longer interested in me."

  Lillian's gaze narrowed. "Oh, he is. But he's doing his own stubborn dance. You can't give up. He needs you."

  Rick leaned back in his chair. "Listen, Suzanne, we spoiled that kid, really. I mean he was like everyone's baby. And while we have ruined him on some levels, I like to think we trained him better – you know – to be a good partner."

  "Did you guys come all the way to Michigan to talk to me?" The thought of having such a close-knit family, that so many people cared about you enough to do something like this, made her head a little buzzy.

  Suzanne shot to her feet, the whole scene suddenly making her nausea worse. "I'm pregnant," she choked out. Tears ran down her face. Lillian stood, held her close. How she knew this she had no idea but it all made a strange sort of sense now. She'd long ago stopped counting on her body to do its job, to conceive and carry a child. But the thought that she and Craig had overcome it was terrifying, and somehow right.

  Then she held Suzanne at arm's length. "I know how significant that is, given your history. Go to him. Tell him. Be a family, but just…"

  Suzanne shut her eyes. "I know. Love him. I do. And I will…try."

  Rick rose and put an arm around his wife, then took Suzanne's hand. "You won't regret it, Suzanne. He needs you. And he will be a great father."

  Craig had pulled a double shift and was in zero mood for any human contact. But the sight of Sara standing at the door of his building made him smile. She held him close. He closed his eyes against the memories. And the anger. She let go of him but held his arms, stared hard into his eyes. "What?" He asked. "I'm tired. Need sleep." But she would not let go of him. "Sara, seriously. What is it? You ok? Jack is--"

  She shook her head. "No, no. It's not about me. We wanted to make sure you were aware of the memorial we're having. Next weekend.

  Craig took a breath. "Jesus. It's been two years hasn't it?" He ran a hand across his face. Exhaustion permeated his every pore. "Come on up."

  They ascended in silence. He headed for a shower, leaving Sara to her own devices. By the time he came back out, she'd made coffee, found some fruit and cheese, and sat reading a magazine at his kitchen table. He leaned on the doorway, rubbing his hair with a towel. "You look good," he said, meaning it. He was one hundred percent over her, he knew. But it felt nice having her in his space again, as a friend.

  She looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. "Thanks. I'm feeling better." He slumped into the chair across from her, but pushed the steaming cup of coffee away.

  "I can't drink another drop of this stuff. Double shift." He shrugged, accepting the grape, then piece of cheese she held to his lips. "How's Katie? Brandis? Your life? I never see you anymore."

  She ticked off her fingers as she spoke. "A smart mouth. A handful, when he's not a bottomless pit. Not too bad. I know."

  He laughed at her irreverence, put a hand on her arm. "I'm a wreck, sorry."

  "I heard." She patted his check, ate more fruit.

  He narrowed his eyes. "You heard what, exactly?"

  "Things with Suzanne, on the outs again. What's up with her anyway? You're a great guy."

  She had the decency to blush when he nearly fell out his chair laughing. "Jesus," he sputtered. "I guess you'd know. You let me go too, remember?" He stood, downed a huge glass of water, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. "I gotta get some sleep." He kept his eyes on the sink.

  "Want me to talk to her?"

  "No. Thanks. It's over. Nothing to salvage." His chest constricted, but he blew out a breath. Let it go. He had to just let it go.

  "Well, anyway." She gave a hug from behind, kissed his shoulder and grabbed her keys from the counter. "Can you come? It would be really great. I mean, if you guys can…."

  "I'll be there. Probably not with her, but I'll be there."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Memorial

  Suzanne wished she could be anywhere, absolutely anywhere on the planet, but there. Watching the little kids gather around Rob, sending their small boats out onto Lake Michigan, memorializing a man they had all lost, a light the world had lost, just two years before. Craig stood a few feet from her, sipping some water, staring out over the water. He looked thinner. She sighed, sipped her ginger ale, trying to hold down the ever-present nausea. At that second he looked at her, his gaze narrowed, thoughtful. She raised her glass to him in mock salute. He cocked his head seeming to continue his study of her.

  When she couldn't take his scrutiny anymore she walked over to Rob and put her hand on his shoulder. He stayed crouched on the lake shore, looked up at her, his eyes bright with tears. She pulled him to his feet and let him fold her into a huge hug, absorbing her sobs. They stood a while. Then she took a breath and he put a hand to her face. "Don't let him go," he whispered. She shuddered. Remembering Blake's last words to her.

  Rob kissed her forehead, and then tucked Lila under his other arm. Suzanne saw the swell of the other woman's belly. But instead of her usual quick spike of jealousy or resentment, she felt nothing but happiness for her friend. Rob reached into a cooler and grabbed some bottles of Blake's Brew, handed them out and raised his bottle.

  She had never felt more alone. Not after Mitchell's death. Not even when she had forced Blake out of her life. She looked up through a haze of tears into Craig's dark brown eyes. He tugged her close and kissed her forehead as they raised their bottles.

  The smell of the extra hoppy brew settled her stomach for a split second. Then, when it hit her palate she had to hold back a gag. Putting a hand over her mouth she stumbled towards the steps. Craig grabbed the bottle from her before she dropped it. "Sorry." She whispered, and ran up the steps and the rest of the group said their good byes.

  She held onto the toilet, waited for her poor, overworked stomach to settle. She jumped at the sound of footsteps behind her. "Does he know?" Lila stood, handing her a bottle of water.

  Suzanne wiped her lips, splashed water on her face. "Does who know what?" She groaned and closed the toilet lid to take a seat since there was no way she could stay on her feet. Her knees would not hold her. Lila crouched down, put a hand on her knee.

  "Craig. Does he know you're pregnant?"

  Suzanne frowned at the other woman. She'd blurted that very thing out to Craig's brother and sister-in-law, but the problem was her period had already started to go wonky. She was forty-one. She figured it was perimenopause combined with the damage Mitchell had inflicted on her. Her mother's had hit early. Her head pounded, which brought on another surge of dizziness. She gripped Lila's hand. Stared into the woman'
s dark eyes. "I can't be."

  Lila squeezed her knee and handed the water over. "Here I'll bring you some sliced lemon. It's the only thing that helps me."

  Suzanne stared at her departing back. Her brain would not process the possibility. She remembered the last time she and Craig had sex. In the pool. Nearly two months ago. She grabbed the wall, held herself steady. "No." She whispered.

  Lila came back and handed Suzanne a sliced lemon. "Smell it. Trust me."

  Suzanne stared at it. Put it to her nose, took a long breath, then a sip of water. She felt Lila's eyes on her. She did it again. For the first time in weeks she didn't feel mortally ill. "Oh God. That is amazing."

  "Yeah. So, you gonna tell him, or what?"

  Her eyes welled, again. She brushed the tears away. She was angry, frustrated at her too little too late, pregnant, in her forties and alone self. "Why? He doesn't want me anymore."

  Lila let her sob it out, then looked at her. "Tell him."

  "Tell him what?" Suzanne yelped at the sound of Craig's voice. Lila patted her cheek, then walked out. Suzanne stared at him. His dark stare, handsome face, so close. Yet so far from her.

  "Nothing." She brushed past him.

  But he grabbed her arm. "Talk to me."

  The house was empty. She could hear childish laughter, lower adult voices, subdued but yet somehow celebratory, as it should be, now. She sank to the saggy couch. Craig stood quiet. Terror grabbed her heart, made her breathless. The nausea rose again. She gripped her lemon, never more unsure of herself. A baby. Holy shit.

  But she must have waited too long. "Never mind." He walked out and she heard his motorcycle fire up. The squeal of tires signaled something final. She sighed, stood, stared around the empty room and found a picture of Blake on the mantel. Her heart caught in her throat. But she took it down, ran her finger over the image of his eyes, so green and expressive. His laughing face, caught in a candid happy moment, on one side of Lila, Rob on the other. She barely choked back a sob, dropped to the couch and let the sounds of her friends, and the laughter of children lull her into an exhausted sleep.