Love You More (Tessa Leoni, #1)(47)

He leaned his skis against the wall. Set down his ski bag. Tossed his keys on the kitchen table, then was just starting to remove his boots when he spotted me. He seemed to notice my uniform first, his gaze going automatically to the clock on the wall.

“It’s that late? Crap, sorry. I must’ve lost track of time.”

I stared at him, hands on my hips, the epitome of the nagging fishwife. I didn’t f*cking care.

“Where. Were. You.”

The words came out hard and clipped. Brian looked up, appeared genuinely surprised. “Skiing. Didn’t Sarah tell you that? The girl next door. She brought Sophie home, right?”

“Funny question to ask now, don’t you think?”

He hesitated, less certain. “Is Sophie home?”

“Yes.”

“Did Sarah do okay? I mean, Sophie’s okay?”

“Best I can tell.”

Brian nodded, seemed to be considering. “So … why am I in so much trouble?”

“Mrs. Ennis—” I started.

“Shit!” he exploded, jumping immediately to standing. “I was supposed to call her. While driving. Except the roads really were crap, and I needed two hands on the wheel, and by the time I got to the highway and better conditions … Oh no …” He groaned. Slumped back down in his seat. “I screwed that up.”

“You left my child with a stranger! You took off to play, when I needed you here. And you panicked a perfectly wonderful old woman who will probably have to double her heart medicine for the next week!”

“Yeah,” my husband agreed, mumbling. “I messed up. I should’ve called her. I’m sorry.”

“How could you?” I heard myself say.

He went back to work on the laces of his boots. “I forgot. I was going to drop Sophie off at Mrs. Ennis’s house, but then I met Sarah and she’s right next door—”

“You left Sophie with a stranger for the entire day—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It was already eight. I figured you’d be home at any time.”

“I worked till after one. And I’d still be working, except Mrs. Ennis called dispatch and had them emergency page me.”

Brian paled and stopped fiddling with his boots. “Uh-oh.”

“No kidding!”

“Okay. Okay. Yes. Definitely. Not calling Mrs. Ennis was a first-class f*ckup. I’m sorry, Tessa. I’ll call Mrs. Ennis in the morning and apologize.”

“You don’t know how scared I was,” I had to state.

He didn’t speak.

“The whole way … driving here. Have you ever held an infant’s skull in your hands, Brian?”

He didn’t speak.

“It’s like cradling rose petals. The unfused segments are so paper thin you can see through them, so light that if you exhale, they’ll blow out of your cupped hands. These are the things I know, Brian. These are the things I can’t forget. Which means, you don’t screw up with a woman like me, Brian. You don’t hand over my kid to a stranger, you don’t ditch my daughter just so you can get out to play. You guard Sophie. Or you get the hell out of our lives. Are we clear on that?”

“I screwed up,” he replied levelly. “I get that. Is Sophie all right?”

“Yes—”

“Did she like Sarah?”

“Apparently—”

“And you called Mrs. Ennis?”

“Of course!”

“Then at least things turned out all right in the end.” He returned to his boots.

I crossed the kitchen so fast I nearly caught flight. “You married me!” I screamed at my new husband. “You chose me. You chose Sophie. How dare you fail us!”

“It was a phone call, Tessa. And yes, I will try to do better next time.”

“I thought you’d died! I thought Sophie had died!”

“Well, yeah, then isn’t it good that I’m finally home?”

“Brian!”

“I know I screwed up!” He finally gave up on his boots, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m new at this! I’ve never had a wife and daughter before, and just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m not sometimes stupid. For chrissake, Tessa … I’m about to ship out again. I just wanted one last day of fun. Fresh snow. Powder skiing …” He inhaled. Exhaled. Stood up.

“Tessa,” he said more quietly. “I would never intentionally hurt you or Sophie. I love you both. And I promise to do better next time. Have a little faith, okay? We’re both new at this and we’re bound to make some mistakes, so please … Have a little faith.”

My shoulders sagged. The fight left me. I let go of my anger long enough to feel the relief that my daughter was okay, my husband was safe, and the afternoon had worked out in the end.

Brian pulled me against his chest. I allowed his embrace. I even slid my arms around his waist.

“Be careful, Brian,” I whispered against his shoulder. “Remember, I’m not like other women.”

For a change, he didn’t argue.


I remembered this moment of my marriage, and others, as the nurse stood back and gestured for me to take my first awkward step. I’d managed to eat dry toast at six a.m. without throwing up. At seven-thirty, they’d moved me to the chair next to my bed to see how I’d do sitting up.