Monday, February 13 #2
This probably wasn’t the right moment to tell Angelica to calm down, since she might grab a piece of firewood from the pile beside him and hit him over the head, or pick up the fire poker and stab him.
He likely deserves either punishment. If he had brought a jacket, this would be the opportune moment to grab it.
“Um … you didn’t mention you’re getting a divorce or what you want from me, including my staying.” The latter part seemed slim to him.
Angelica’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh! Of course, I’m getting divorced. I thought you understood.”
Garrett shook his head and sighed. “I’ve learned from life and my career to assume nothing. Does that mean I’m staying?”
“I guess I got ahead of myself.” She twisted her hands. “Please don’t leave, Garrett.”
Please don’t leave. He’d heard those same words so many times before—the many times Angelica pleaded with tear-filled eyes for him to stay, the many times she needed him. Needed him for that night. Was tonight just another one of those nights?
Garrett stood and, taking her hands, beheld her beautiful dark-chocolate eyes. Just as he had months ago, he saw that look again. No denying it, no misreading it; it grew stronger, unlike before. As Angelica’s eyes called to him, his responded. This was more than a one-nighter.
Garrett pronounced the words he believed were unpronounceable. “In that case, I have something to ask you. Will you marry me, Angelica? Well … after your divorce, that is.”
Angelica closed her eyes, squeezed his hands, and didn’t reply.
Even with the firewood tumbling, sparks crackling, and the clock ticking on the mantel, the stillness in the room proved deafening.
They were back to playing the malignant silence game.
Garrett winced. Damn, he shouldn’t have asked.
She didn’t want him, especially after he’d shared the list of reasons to run, not walk away. He’d be walking, too.
Tick … tick … tick …
When she opened her eyes, the windows of her soul revealed not bliss but an immeasurable sadness. “I must tell you something that might change your mind.” Angelica turned away from him.
Change his mind? He’d never do that. It was the other way around. Garrett placed his hand on her face and lifted her chin. “Tell me what’s wrong, honey?”
“I’m sorry, but you need to know … I can’t have children.”
This woman was an angel. Angelica overlooked his “scars,” his major imperfections, yet she apologized for something she couldn’t control.
Garrett battled two opposing emotions—sorrow over her pain and overwhelming relief.
He’d love her even more if that were possible.
She believes in his redemption and views herself as a liability in marriage because of her fertility issues.
“Darling, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this. Believe me, this doesn’t affect how I feel about you, and it never will.” He kissed her cheek. “We can adopt if you want children. If not, that’s okay, too. All that matters is that you’re my wife.”
Angelica bit her bottom lip, looking emotionally torn. “Can we sit down, Garrett?”
“Sit on my lap,” he said, stepping back toward the fireside chair. A chair he hoped would offer more than just a chat.
As Garrett settled into the wing chair, his back as straight as the tall cushions behind him, Angelica planted herself in his lap. His hands settled on her waist.
Holding his shoulders, she peered into his eyes. “You’re too good to me, and I’ve taken advantage of you.”
“What? How’s that possible?”
Angelica sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve put you through the wringer since the moment we met. Once you got here, I wouldn’t let you leave. Then I forced you to come back, night after night.”
“You haven’t put me through anything. Life happens. Every time I stayed, it was my choice. I told you that. As for coming back, I’m like a homing pigeon. I return because this is where my heart is, honey,” he said with a wink.
“But you weren’t supposed to—”
Garrett’s hand shot up. “Please, I don’t want to hear that again, darling.”
Angelica pressed her forehead against his.
She comes with more baggage than she’s worth.
“Do you know what you might be signing up for? My divorce will get messy … Nicholas won’t disappear quietly into the night.
He’s not going to make this easy for me.
He’s been blowing up my phone and will probably show up unannounced.
He’s done that before,” she rambled with a shudder as fresh teardrops fell.
“I’m not afraid of Nicholas Ponte. Are you, Angelica?”
“No. He won’t hurt me. He loves me too much. He even offered to give me his entire fortune if I came back.” Angelica shook her head in bewilderment, ruffling her wild hair. “Even if he’s a millionaire or a billionaire, I don’t want any of his money. I only want him to disappear.”
A million, a billion. It was all the same to Garrett. An inconceivable sum. Ponte might have it all on his ledger sheets, but he hurt the wrong woman—a powerhouse of a lady who came in pint-sized.
He brushed a stray hair from the corner of her eye. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying …” she mumbled, battling a multitude of emotions. “I just dumped the man I thought was my old friend, not my husband. This is insane!”
“Do you want to process everything while your emotions are riding a wave of shock and grief? If you need to step back, digest everything, I understand, honey,” Garrett said, running his hand along her cheek.
“I can disappear and come back when this is over, and your divorce is finalized. I want to be there for you, but if you think it will be easier to handle it alone, without another complication, I’ll do that.”
As Angelica clutched his shirt in her fists, a tear slipped from her eyelid and strolled down her cheek. “I need you here, Garrett. I need you desperately,” she said, her words riding on a quiver. “I feel so safe and protected with you. You’re my support, my rock. I don’t want to lose you.”