Chapter 10
She didn't leave, not right away. Turning around, she started towards the boardwalk and watched as the seagulls soared upwards, wings fluttering.
They made bright dots against the heavy gray of the sky.
Boats bobbed on the restless water and a few distance away, she could see a lone man riding the waves on a jet ski.
A chill drifted in from the open bay, prickling her skin even through her jacket.
For a moment she stood perfectly still, letting the briny air sting her cheeks and whip a tangle of hair across her lips, tasting the salt and her own uncertainty.
She pressed her palm to the cold metal of the railing, watching sunlight flicker in the eddies, searching for answers in the infinite motion of the water.
She heard the echo of Leon's words, the blunt ache in his voice, and despite herself she closed her eyes, breathing in the memory.
His hands, the tremor of restraint, the familiar need drawn tight as wire between them.
The ache in her chest was sharper now, tempered by longing and the weight of choices postponed.
The jet ski curved in a wide arc, its rider a dark silhouette against the shimmer, and she envied the ease of that movement, the reckless speed. If only she could outrun this ache, this gnawing sense that something precious was slipping away beneath the surface.
She pressed forward, moving with slow deliberation along the weathered boards, footsteps muffled by the hush of the wind. Seagulls wheeled and cried above, their voices a sharp counterpoint to the soft rush of waves and the low hum of distant engines.
At the far end of the boardwalk, she paused again, staring out towards the horizon where the sky met the sea in a bruised line of violet and steel. Scotland felt impossibly far away, and yet, somewhere in that distant promise, the next chapter waited, half-written and uncertain.
She drew in a long breath, squared her shoulders, and let the slow certainty settle deep in her bones. Whatever waited for her on the other side of the ocean, or in the unspoken spaces between herself and Leon, she would meet it head-on, her heart both heavy and fiercely alive.
The air of impending doom was upon her, and nothing was shaking it loose.
She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to take a dive, with nothing more holding her than sheer will, but even that was slipping away.
Easing out a breath, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.
Hunching her shoulders, she made her way back to her car.
*****
"I'm beginning to feel invisible." Constance toyed with the rim of her glass as she stared at the man across from her.
"Sorry." He managed to smile with great difficulty. "I have a lot on my mind."
"That much is obvious." Leaning forward, she was aware that the motion shifted the tight bodice of her dress to reveal the white orbs of her breasts.
She had dressed with perfect care this evening, with the shameless intention of persuading him into her bed.
When she had called and invited him to dinner, that had been the specific purpose, but now she was not even sure he knew she was there. It was annoying the hell out of her.
"Darling, there was a time when my considerable charms would have us both naked and breathless by now.
You said you're involved with someone, but here you are having supper with me.
Where is this 'someone'? And why haven't the papers been all over the relationship of the gorgeous and utterly sexy Leon Whitlock? "
Leon's gaze dropped to his hands, fingers tangled around the stem of his glass, knuckles white with tension.
He should not have come. Even being here with her like this felt like a betrayal to the woman he had made a vow to, the one who occupied every inch of his mind.
He had left her standing at the harbor, looking lost and alone, because of how pissed off he had been.
He still was, truth be told. He was tired of the waiting, of playing second fiddle and was going to force her to decide as soon as they were together again.
The muted light of the dining room flickered across his face, drawing shadows beneath his eyes that looked everywhere but at Constance.
For a moment, silence pressed between them, thickening the air, and she wondered if he might simply get up and leave, walk out into the night without a backward glance.
Instead, he held her gaze. "Sometimes I think I've forgotten how to do this," he said, voice low and rough.
"How to be present. How to want anything uncomplicated.
" There was a flicker of apology there, but also a stubbornness she remembered from years before.
A refusal to give up ground he wasn't ready to lose.
Constance allowed herself a thin smile, bitterness threading her words. "I'm not asking for a fairy tale, Leon. Just honesty. Or at least a little attention. If you can't give me that, then..." She stopped herself, unwilling to finish the sentence, unwilling to beg.
He looked up at her at last, searching her face as if looking for a map through his own confusion. "You deserve more than scraps from someone who's still figuring out where they belong," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Constance. That's all I have right now."
She watched him, her disappointment settling in like cold rain, and realized with a jolt how much she'd hoped he would fight. Just a little, just enough to make her feel seen. But Leon simply sat there, weary, beautiful and lost, and the ache in her chest shifted from longing to acceptance.
"Then let's not pretend," she said quietly. "Let's just have dinner." She lifted her glass in a silent salute, her smile rueful, and Leon clinked his own against it, the sound soft as regret.
"Why don't we talk about my favorite topic?
Me." Her charming smile had the tension easing from around his heart.
He could deal with this, with them getting back to what they had been to each other over the years.
Smiling at her, he settled in to enjoy the meal and her wicked wit that had always managed to charm him.
*****
He stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. After her return, she had gone straight to work. In her absence the bookstore had filled up, keeping the staff as well as her dad busy. She had simply shed her jacket and dove into the thick of things.
The shoppers had come out, braving the nasty weather. Children had clamored for stories and treats, and the Thanksgiving theme had been a rousing success.
Now they were alone after the staff left for home.
Instead of turkey, which neither of them had a particular fondness for, she had opted for grilled chicken breasts and potato salad.
The store would be closed for the holiday, and she was planning on rising early to do the cooking.
She had also taken an interest in the church activities at this time of the year.
The soup kitchen had been happy for her help over the years.
After she finished supper, she was planning on slipping out to do her part.
"I don't understand." Putting down the spoon he had been using to eat his soup, he simply stared at her.
She busied herself pouring the tea into cups and bringing one to him. "I'm bringing your medication."
"Sit down." The voice was harsh, expecting to be obeyed and she did automatically. "Explain."
Forcing herself to remain calm, she curled her fists into her damp palms and faced him, chin lifted. "I met someone, and he's invited me to spend a week in Scotland. With him." She had decided to go with half-truths and ease her way into telling him the entire truth.
"Are you going mad? Who is this man and why haven't you brought him here to meet me?
What is this all about Kadian? Is this your way of defying me?
Of punishing me? You think I made myself ill?
Good Christ! That's it, isn't it?" He pushed back from the table and rose unsteadily, causing her to be alarmed.
She rose with him and started towards him.
"Dad..."
"You hate taking care of me and now you just want to leave and be about your business. Just like your mother. You have chosen someone else over me. Your own father. What have I done to deserve such horrible betrayal? Tell me!"
"Stop it!" She stopped halfway around the table, her heart racing, the guilt churning inside her chest. "You keep comparing me to mother.
I am not her. You keep saying that she left and she never did.
When I ask you to tell me, beg you to tell me what happened, you just hinted at her betrayal.
That she cheated on you, that she was an awful person.
" She plopped her fisted hands on her hips and faced him.
"Did you ever love her?" She swept a hand around the room.
"There are no photos of her anywhere around.
Was she that hateful, that awful that you've removed every memory of her?
I left my life, my career when you called, no hesitation, I just left and came here.
.." She sucked in a breath. "I came when you called.
" Her voice was quieter now, the anger draining and leaving her weary.
She was so tired, so ready to just call it quits.
So dangerously close to saying to hell with everything.
She had spent almost an hour out in the cold on the boardwalk, despair coating her like a mist and had almost continued walking. This had to stop.
He seemed to shrink as her words hung in the air, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of old griefs and new accusations.
The silence was thick, pressing in around them as the clatter and laughter of the day faded to a memory.
Kadian glanced at his trembling hands, veins stark against skin gone thin and pale, and something inside her softened, just a little.