Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the next bit. The pain from those days washed over him and stole his air. “A couple months later, she got pregnant. Being a southern boy, I did what I thought was right and proposed to her. She wanted to wait to get married until after the baby was born.” They’d merged apartments and household items, but never their hearts. Not that Faith needed to know that part. “Things went from bad to worse. We couldn’t have been any more wrong for each other. We fought constantly. My first book was a month from releasing and I was deep into edits on the second when she called me from the doctor’s office to say she’d miscarried.”
The baby, just a fetus, was still a fresh loss in his mind. He’d barely had time to adjust to the pregnancy, but damn. He’d loved that baby with everything he had. The hot sting of tears threatened as he looked at Faith, his control wavering.
She pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. If possible, her already tense shoulders grew even more rigid. But the anger creasing her brow smoothed away when she returned her amber gaze to his.
She still had yet to say anything, and his fucked-up tale wasn’t over, so he leaned back and drummed his fingers on the chair arm.
He blew out a breath. “Laura blamed me for everything. The miscarriage, not loving her, not making enough money, her art not selling. It got to the point we couldn’t be in the same room without screaming at each other. One night, she yelled it was over and stormed out.”
Alec could still hear her words inside his head, beating like a drum against his temples. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at Faith, so he had no idea if she felt the same contempt for himself that he did.
After several minutes he cleared his raw throat. “When she left the apartment, she got drunk with an old friend and wrapped her car around a utility pole. The friend died and Laura wound up a vegetable on life support. She’s in a nursing facility here in the city.”
Seconds ticked by.
Slowly, Faith rose and walked to the window. She offered him her back and nothing more. Said not a syllable. She looked so damn fragile standing there. Breakable. Then again, weren’t they all?
He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting to find out what she’d do, say. Faith never seemed to react as he expected, so he held some residual strand of hope she wouldn’t clock him and leave.
Nearly ten minutes passed, and nothing. Unable to stand it, he leaned forward. “Say something, Faith. Anything. Tell me you hate my guts. Tell me not to touch you again. Tell me—”
“That my heart hurts for you.”
He jerked straight. “Come again?” he croaked.
She turned around, leaned against the windowsill, and crossed her arms. “You still consider yourself engaged to . . . Laura?”
Hearing Laura’s name from Faith’s lips did something terrible to his insides. “Yes. The accident was nine years ago and there’s no hope of her recovering. The doctors say she’s brain-dead.” He opened his mouth again, but couldn’t finish the thought. Honestly, he was still waiting for Faith to throw her shoe at his head.
“You were going to say more.”
Clever, insightful Faith. “Laura’s parents are very religious. They won’t take her off life support even though she’s not in there anymore. I hit the bestseller list several months later, which is why we were able to hide what happened from the media— the accident preceded the fame. I can afford her care at the facility. They can’t.”
Faith stared at him through those amber eyes. Blinked. “And out of duty, you won’t leave her. Because you view this whole dreadful tragedy as your fault.”
Alec didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her astute intuition. Whether to shake her or kiss her for her calm understanding. If he wanted, he could leave Laura behind and still pay for her care, but he wouldn’t, because Faith was right. Guilt and remorse would forever bind him to that night nine years ago. He wouldn’t or couldn’t ever let it go. It was his own sick, twisted way of making amends.
Somehow, Faith got that. She’s wrapped her smart, beautiful head around his intentions and didn’t question the decision. Even more impressive was that she didn’t try to tell him it wasn’t his fault, like Jake had tried to do countless times, and she didn’t offer empty condolences because they never eased the pain. If anyone knew that, Faith did.
What in the hell was he going to do with her?
The itch to touch her, to cross the few feet between them and seek comfort, was so fierce that he rose from the chair before he remembered she hadn’t reacted. Her gaze was pinned to the wall over his head, lost, a million miles away.
“Give me some idea where your mind is at, Faith. Should I try to book an earlier flight home? Go sleep on the couch and give you space?”
She straightened from the windowsill and closed the distance to stand in front of him. “You should have told me sooner.”
He breathed in her sweet, sugary scent. “Yeah.”
“Is Laura the reason why you wouldn’t make love to me?”
It didn’t escape his attention that she’d used the phrase making love instead of sex, like they’d done previously when discussing their attraction. Laura had nothing to do with what was between him and Faith. Hell, he’d held off on crossing that line and taking her because, deep down, he knew with Faith it would be making love. And all he’d ever known was sex.
He shook his head and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “You make me feel more than she ever did. That scares me because my circumstances will never change.”
Her lips parted with a breath, her gaze taking in his face as if trying to reach the truth. “Alec?”
He yielded to her nearness, at her breathy sigh of a voice he couldn’t get out of his head if he tried. “Yes?”
“Will you take my dress off now?”
chapter
eighteen
Faith waited patiently for Alec to connect the dots, watching his face for the moment when he realized she wasn’t angry at him for lying and that she didn’t hate him. It was what he expected, judging by his demeanor. He hated himself enough. He shouldn’t.
What happened to his Laura was a series of terrible incidents, a row of dominoes tumbling down. He was no more at fault for Laura’s decisions than the road on which she crashed. All the anger they harbored for each other was just young infatuation trying to play adult in the real world. And the miscarriage . . . that had to have been the most difficult. To have what might’ve been ripped away by nothing more than a biology mishap and be helpless to stop it.
Alec cared about people. He may have a solitary lifestyle, and he needed his space and room to think, but no one that in tune to the nature of people could be callous. His guilt over Laura was proof enough. To lose a child he never got to hold, and to lose the hope of what that child could bring, would devastate a person like Alec. He was an all-or-nothing guy.
She wished things could be different. Wished she was a woman he could desire long term and not grow weary of. She wished he could forgive and move on, and that Laura’s parents would seek peace and let their daughter go.
But none of those things would happen. So for now, she’d take this borrowed time with him and make the most of it. Part of her wanted to hold back. Think things through. But Laura hadn’t been a part of his life for many years, and Alec said Laura was never coming back. If there had been no car accident, Faith figured he and Laura wouldn’t still be together.
He stared at her through his gray-blue eyes with uncertainty and wonder. “Why aren’t you mad at me?”