Chapter 8 #4
Callie giggled as his hand covered Amanda’s thigh. “Let’s go then. Everything but our phones and Callie’s iPad is packed.”
He lifted Callie in the air again, tickled her till she cried mercy, and watched as she scurried from the room. Then he stood and looked down at Amanda, holding out his hand to help her up.
She paused, and he saw her notice the scars that marred the inside of his wrist and the entire side of his thumb. She put Zander down against the pillows and looked at him questioningly from beneath her lashes. Slowly, she reached out again, this time with both hands to trace the marks.
His breath caught in his throat, and he watched as she turned his hand over and held her own scarred hand up to compare.
When she saw that he had no scars like she did, she rubbed his hand absently.
Then she turned it back over and pressed her fingertips right into the marks on his wrist. She was taking him right back to his nightmare, and she didn’t even know it.
He wasn’t sure if she’d meant to speak aloud but he heard her whisper “perfect fit” as she dug her nails in, not hard, but enough to know. Then her hand grasped his wrist. Reflexively, his did the same—just like that night when that was all he had to hold her by—clutching her back.
It startled her. Her eyes widened, then he watched as she loosened her hold and looked to him with that same questioning expression. Sickened, he silently demonstrated, his fingers trailing her scars, from wrist to the top of her hand, and finally along her ring finger.
She swallowed hard before looking up. “I let go.” All he could do was answer with a slow, deliberate nod. “Why?” she asked, fear darkening her expression.
He did not want to do this right now. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat down next to her.
He picked up Zander and laid him down on his lap, rubbed his little body with his hands.
He looked right at her, and she shrunk back a little, which broke his heart.
“It wasn’t because you were scared of me! ”
“Well, you don’t have to have a coronary!”
“Sweetheart, I’ve had nearly a dozen since I’ve met you.”
“Do you…do you have a condition?” she asked with genuine concern.
“A condition?” he repeated. “A condition, Amanda?” He got right in her God damned beautiful face. “Yeah, I have a condition, Amanda—it’s called you’re killing me!”
Alexander watched Amanda bite her lip before she smiled up at him. “You don’t scare me.”
“That I know.”
“First of all, there’s a swear jar in the kitchen. You can make a contribution on our way out. And secondly—”
“Swear jar?” Was she crazy? “You’re serious?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Because my favorite swear word I learned from you!”
She sucked in an audible breath. “That can’t be true.”
“It sure the hell is!”
“I don’t swear!”
“Oh, it may only be one word, but your mouth is filthier than any sailor I’ve ever been around. And I’ve been around a lot.”
“You’re lying!”
“I. Don’t. Lie.”
“I. Don’t. Swear.”
“Yes. You. Do.”
“Well, maybe it’s because of you.”
“Oh.” He grinned devilishly, looking at her in a way that made her blush, like he was seeing right through her clothes. “I can assure you—it is.”
“What are you trying to say?” she asked, shifting in her seat.
“I’m not trying to say anything,” he said, still taking her in, top to bottom. “I’m telling you—in the right circumstances, you swear!”
“Because you irritate me?”
He shook his head. “No, though irritating you is fun as hell.” He got right in her face again, gripping her shoulders before running his hands up and down her arms. “This is better.”
The implication of what he was telling her hit full force, and she turned three shades of red before she was able to speak again. “So…so…” She had to clear her throat. “When we made him.” She pointed at Zander, hoping he wouldn’t make her say the whole thing aloud.
Alexander put her out of her misery. “Yes.” Their conversation was messing with his head. Literally. “Secondly?” he asked.
“Secondly?” she repeated.
“After you informed me of the swear jar, you said ‘And secondly…’”
“I have no idea.”
“Good. Wheels up in forty-five. Let’s go.”
Taking his family to the car from Amanda’s penthouse, Alexander felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They were going home. Amanda was quiet. Finally.
They were not the same two people they used to be. Maybe it was because she’d had her own life in the twenty-first century, while back in his, he and Callie were her life. How different things might be if she could still remember him. Them.
Zander was sound asleep, tucked beneath Amanda’s chin.
Rosa was talking with Stephen, and Callie was holding Alex’s hand, staring between him and her mother.
Every now and then Amanda gave her a wink, then a big fake smile, which caused his daughter to burst into peals of laughter, her face rubbing his thigh.
Stan was in the parking garage making sure everyone and everything was ready. As Alexander stood outside the truck, he literally counted his ducks getting in. Amanda, check. Zander, check. Callie, check. As he checked Callie’s buckle she asked, “Do you like to fly, Papa? More than ships?”
He covered the top of her head with his hand and told her, “I like anything that gets me to you.”
“Hey, Callesandra,” Gregor called out as he adjusted the rearview mirror to see her, “I love to fly!”
“I knew it!” she exclaimed with a fist pump. Amanda smiled, too, sharing a look with her.
It was a forty-five-minute ride to the private airport, and when they pulled right up to the plane, Hank, his pilot, and the rest of the crew were waiting. Alexander couldn’t help but check his family again as he helped them from the truck. Wife, check. Son, check. Daughter, check.
After Hank had introduced himself to Amanda, Callie, and Rosa, Callie ran onto the plane, turned around at the top of the stairs, and asked, “Can I sit wherever I want?”
“Anywhere but the pilot’s seat, angel,” he told his daughter.
He walked with Amanda to the stairs, his hand against her back.
They found Callie sprawled out on the sofa in back by the galley with three TV screens to watch, and already plugging her iPad and iPhone into the jacks.
Stephen sat down next to her and she promptly threw her feet into his lap.
Rosa took one of a cluster of four chairs with Stan and Gregor.
Trevor and Michael took another cluster.
Zander’s baby seat was already installed by the front, and Amanda sat in the seat next to it.
Alexander spoke with the pilot and checked Callie’s seat belt even though Stephen had just buckled it. He checked Zander’s harness and Amanda’s belt too, and, satisfied they were tucked in tight, he finally sat across from Amanda.
He looked at his watch; he’d said his plane was leaving in two hours. It was one hour fifty-nine on the dot. As Hank started to taxi, Alexander shared a look with Stephen. This day was a long time coming.
They left the ground a minute later.
Mission accomplished.
Thirty minutes later, lights out and plane relatively quiet, Amanda got up and went to check on Callie.
She was sitting in Stephen’s lap, looking rather content.
She gave her a kiss and told her she loved her, then went to check out the galley, where she discovered a feast from Gibson’s, her favorite Chicago steakhouse.
She was just about to head back and ask if anyone wanted anything when she saw the bottle of Macallan.
It was ridiculously expensive. In fact, one of the most expensive pours out there.
The four cases at home, the bottles that lined the shelves above the bar, they were for him.
She knew then she’d bought them for Alex.
She fingered the bottle, desperate for a memory of him, them, anything. Just as she was about to whack the side of her head again, he was behind her, his large hand covering hers. “Don’t,” he whispered.
“I can’t help it.”
“If I thought it would work, believe me, I’d do it myself.”
She turned and looked up. “It seems logical, doesn’t it?”
“Let me tell you something about logic, Amanda…”
Amanda waited for him to continue. And waited. He was just staring at her. “Well…?”
Alex shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s supposed to be simple.”
“Not when all the variables change. Not when the simplest way from A to B is no longer a straight line. I lived for and by logic, Amanda.”
“What changed?”
“Bloody hell, that’s easy.” He smiled down at her. “You.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You may.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just correct my grammar?”
He smiled, only slightly, and her heart hurt just then, realizing how much pain he was in. It was remarkable how well he seemed to push through things. “Not on purpose.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Always.”
“Good, let’s eat.”
As he was about to leave the galley, she called out to him.
“Were we happy, Alex?”
He turned and looked at her so intently, a million emotions crossing his face, before saying, “Deliriously.”
“Really?”
“Swear to God.”