Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(42)

“Are you trying to ask me if I’m pregnant?” she asked, smiling as though the question was patently absurd. “I already gave you my answer, remember? I have no reason to lie.”

The tension visibly eased from his shoulders.

“However, if I was,” she said, purposely testing him, “I’d certainly know your feelings on the matter, wouldn’t I?”

It was plain that talk of a pregnancy had unsettled him.

“Since it’s a moot point, I don’t think we need to belabor it.”

Colette nodded vigorously. “My feelings exactly.”

He sipped from his second glass of champagne as they read the dessert menu. Everything sounded delectable, and Colette was certainly tempted, but in the end declined and ordered tea instead. Christian did the same. Soon afterward, he settled the bill and they prepared to return to Seattle.

On the drive back, despite her best efforts to stay awake, Colette drifted off. The car was cozily warm, the ride smooth, the music soft. When he turned onto Blossom Street, she suddenly woke up, feeling disoriented for a moment. She glanced at his unyielding profile, then looked out at the familiar street.

Instead of parking on Blossom as he had earlier, Christian drove into the alley near the rear entrance to her apartment. He switched off the engine and they sat in the dark. There seemed little to say.

A feeling of sadness came over her, and she felt regret that their relationship had dwindled down to this—mutually kept secrets, mutually told lies.

“Christian, listen—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Before you say anything, I’d like to make a comment, if you don’t mind.”

“No, go ahead.”

“We both agree that our…liaison, for lack of a better term, should never have happened,” he said. He appeared to be choosing his words deliberately.

She nodded.

“It was a mistake,” he said quietly, “and I apologize for my part in it.”

“I do, too.” Christian shouldn’t assume all the responsibility for something in which she’d been a willing partner. “Please, Christian, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“What I realize now is that by giving in to my—”

“Christian.” She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to end this uncomfortable discussion. He couldn’t say anything she hadn’t said to herself a hundred times. “This isn’t doing either of us any good. It happened. As you said, it shouldn’t have, but it did. I don’t blame you and I hope you don’t blame me.”

“Of course not.”

“Fine. Then let’s leave it. You said you wanted to end things on a positive note. We have. It’s over. I wish it didn’t have to end at all, but I can’t be a party to what you’re doing.”

“And I accept that.”

She opened the door. “Then this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

She started to climb out of the car.

“Colette,” he said. Stopping her, he reached for her hand. “If you need anything, please contact me.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

Even in the darkness she knew he was smiling. “Somehow I figured you’d say that.”

“Take care of yourself, Christian.”

“You, too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry. About…everything.”

Christian released her hand. “I meant what I said, Colette. I won’t trouble you again.”

She swallowed, nodding slowly, unable to speak.

“I want only the best for you,” he added.

He opened the car door, and the interior light illuminated the alley with its concrete parking spaces and winter-bare tree. He walked around to the passenger side and helped her out, his hand clasping hers a little longer and a little harder than necessary.

It looked for a moment as if he intended to kiss her. Instead, he backed away and dropped her hand. Colette fumbled inside her purse for her keys; when she glanced up, she knew with certainty that this would be the last time she’d ever see Christian Dempsey.

He nodded once, then got back into the car, waiting long enough for her to unlock her door before he disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER 15

“…there are no knitting police.”

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee from her book Knitting Rules! Storey Publishing, 2006

Lydia Goetz

I was on my feet from the moment I walked into A Good Yarn until I flipped the lock and turned over the Closed sign at the end of a very long afternoon. We did a booming business, with thirty-eight sales. By anyone’s standards, it was an excellent business day. I attributed this to the fact that it was now April, and spring had well and truly arrived.

Fortunately, Margaret seemed to be in a better mood. Although we didn’t have a spare moment to discuss it, I had the feeling the police were closing in on a suspect. Margaret had said she’d heard there was promising news but that was all she was able to tell me.

Toward the end of the day, we’d had a couple of unexpected visitors—Carol Girard and her son, Cameron. I was eager to tell Brad about Carol’s news.

When I got home, Brad had already started dinner, to my relief. I’d put three boneless chicken br**sts in a marinade of buttermilk and ranch dressing spices that morning, and there was leftover coleslaw from the night before, plus Cody’s favorite, Tater Tots.