“No?”
“I’m weak,” she whispered.
Prentice was silent a moment before he laughed. It was an ugly noise and it hurt Fiona’s ghostly ears.
Bella felt the same.
Her pale face went ashen and, with a visible effort, she pulled free of his hands, turned off the tap, twisted in his arms and put her hands on his chest.
“It’s true, Prentice, I’m weak. I always have been,” she admitted this like it was a dirty little secret.
“He beat you to keep you from me,” Prentice countered. “What’s my excuse?”
Her head jerked and she asked, “Pardon?”
“You’re father hit you to control you. Your behavior wasn’t weak, it was survival. I had a good life, I’d never experienced that, no one ever treated me that way. What excuse do I have that I didn’t go after you? Wounded ego?”
Bella lifted her hands to either side of his neck and held on tight.
“Stop doing this. There’s no purpose.”
“No purpose?” he clipped. “If you stay, in a week, a month, ten years, it will eventually sink in that I left you to that. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t believe in you. What do I do when the bitterness creeps in, Elle, and you can’t bear to be with me anymore? What do I do?”
Her fingers curled into his neck but he didn’t give her the opportunity to reply.
“You needed me to protect you and I didn’t. I left you to that,” he continued, his hands came to hers at his neck and he pulled them away, his thumbs sliding along her palms, he went on, “And it was so bad, you harmed yourself because of it.”
She winced but recovered quickly and assured him, “I survived.”
He gave a short, unamused laugh. “Aye. You survived. But life isn’t survival, Elle, life is beautiful.”
She shook her head and said softly, “Not for everyone. Not for a lot of people, Pren, just for those fortunate few.”
Fiona watched as Prentice’s mouth got tight at her words but he replied, “True enough. But you deserve a beautiful life and I would have given it to you if I hadn’t given up, believed you’d played me, stopped believing in you, stopped believing in us.”
Fiona saw Bella was no longer listening.
Her eyes had grown unfocused.
Prentice saw it too.
He was losing her.
Do something! Fiona shouted.
“Elle,” he called but she didn’t reply. His hands curled into hers and gave them a gentle jerk as he repeated, “Elle.”
She shook her head as if clearing it and her eyes refocused.
“You said in ten years –” Bella whispered.
“Aye,” Prentice interrupted, his tone harsh. “Ten years, twenty years, fifty years. Who gives a fuck if, in the end, it might mean I lose you again.”
“Fifty years?” she breathed.
Fiona knew with a look that Prentice wanted to stick with the matter at hand and was losing patience at her shift. “Elle, we –”
Bella interrupted him, asking incredulously, “You want me here for fifty years?”
Now Fiona knew that Prentice was getting annoyed. “Aye, we established that last night.”
“Why?” Bella asked suddenly, her voice somehow both breathy and sharp.
Prentice’s brows drew together. “Why what?”
“Why do you want me here?”
“Elle…” Yes, definitely impatient, Fiona knew this because he released her but leaned into her, resting a hand on the edge of the sink, he tore the other through his hair.
“Tell me.” Her voice was getting sharper, colder. “Tell me why you want me here. I want to know.”
“Elle –”
“Why?” Bella’s voice was a lash and her body had grown solid.
Prentice stared at her, his impatience vanishing, understanding dawning.
Fiona knew they were in trouble.
Prentice was not a man prone to flowery words. In fact, the words she’d heard him say about her the night before on the balcony (they still made her ghostly belly melt) were the most flowery she’d ever had from him.
No, Prentice was more a man who spoke through actions.
This wasn’t a time for action; it was a time for words and Fiona doubted that Prentice could give Bella what she obviously needed.
Fiona was wrong.
His face gentled, his hand came to rest on her jaw and he answered her question in that soft voice filled with love.
“Your pancakes, your cookies, your smile.”
Uh-oh.
Even said in his beautiful, soft voice, Fiona didn’t think that was a great start.
Bella, staring up at him with fear and doubt barely masked behind the coldness in her eyes, didn’t either.
Prentice wasn’t done.
“The way you care for my home, the way you care for my family.”
Fiona decided this wasn’t going too well. No woman wanted a man to want her because she was a good housekeeper and babysitter and made good pancakes.
“The way you are with Sally, enjoying every second of her, never making her feel silly or getting impatient with her liveliness.”
All right, that was a wee bit better. Fiona watched Bella’s face shift slightly, still guarded but Prentice had struck a chord.
“The way you are with Jason, how you handle him with such care. Showing him that Fiona’s guitar, something she loved, wasn’t an instrument of mourning, which she’d hate, but an instrument to celebrate her and keep her memory alive.”
Bella started to shake her head but his hand at her jaw tightened.
“The way you make me laugh when you forget to be what your father wanted you to be and you’re just you.”
Her head jerked.
“Prentice –” Bella broke in.
Prentice wasn’t done.
His face dipped closer to hers. “The way you respond to me, no inhibitions, so quick, so wild, my kiss, my touch, my tongue,” his voice dropped deep, “my cock. I love kissing you, baby, touching you, fucking you. And I love knowing you love it too.”
Fiona could have done without hearing that but she saw he was getting to Bella because her eyes had grown glazed.
“Pren,” she whispered.
“The way you give of yourself, every second, to everyone without knowing you’re doing it or expecting that first thing in return. You’re the most generous person I’ve ever met in my life.” He got even closer, his arm sliding around her waist, his hand at her jaw gliding into her hair. “And I want you in my life until I’m no longer breathing.”
Bella was struggling with this, Fiona could see it. She wanted to believe but she couldn’t.
Or she wouldn’t.
“I –” Bella started to protest.
Prentice cut her off. “And I want you in my children’s lives.”
Bella bit her lip which had begun to tremble.
Then she said something bizarre.
“I think you’re confused.”
Prentice’s brows drew together, indicating to Fiona he thought what she said was bizarre as well.
“Confused how?”
“With who I am and who you think I am.”
“What?”
His voice was no longer soft and loving. Prentice wasn’t happy he’d laid it out for her and, apparently, it had no effect.
Fiona didn’t think this was a good sign.
“You think I’m that girl you met twenty years ago,” Bella explained. “I’m not that girl. I never was. And you’re confused.”
“So, who are you?” Prentice asked, his voice now edging towards impatience.
Bella heard it and decided not to respond.
Fiona watched as his hand fisted in her hair. “You’re telling me that all this is a game?”
Bella’s body jerked yet again and her face went pale.