Only His (Fool's Gold #6)(55)

She twisted her fingers together. “I remember when I had the girls. It was Christmas morning and the delivery was difficult. I lost a lot of blood. For a while they weren’t sure I was going to make it. I don’t remember very much except Ralph holding my hand, begging me not to die. I could feel his tears on my skin and I knew I had to stay with him. Because we were a family.”

She pressed her lips together. “We weren’t allowed to grow old together and that is my one regret. It’s been ten years and I still miss him. I still wish he were here.”

“I’m not trying to come between you and Ralph,” Max told her.

“I know. But when you walked into my house, I was so happy.” Tears burned in her eyes. “Happier than I should have been.”

“You said it yourself. Ralph’s been gone over ten years. Don’t you think it’s okay to be happy? Do you have to spend your life grieving?”

“I know all this,” she said. “I’ve been in therapy to help me through the stages of grief. I’ve been strong for my children. I’d even convinced myself that it was time for me to find someone of my own. My love for my husband will live on regardless of what I do. Nothing can take that away. But I won’t get married again. I want Ralph to have been the only man I married. He deserves that.”

He crossed to her, but didn’t touch her. “Denise, I proposed because I thought you would be more comfortable if we were married. You’re the kind of woman who gets married. But I don’t need that to love you. Hell, I’ve loved you for nearly forty years. It’s not going away. I want to be with you and you can define that however you want.”

“You’re not mad that I won’t marry you?”

“No.” He touched her face with his fingers. “Love me. Be with me.”

“That’s enough?”

“That’s plenty.”

She flung herself at him. He caught her and pulled her hard against him. Then his mouth was on hers and they were kissing and spinning. Or maybe just the room was spinning. Either way, it was perfect.

When he finally drew back, he brushed the tears from her cheeks.

“Promise me something,” he said.

She nodded.

“Next time, talk to me. Don’t run.”

She took his hand in hers and kissed his palm. “I promise. For always, Max.”

“For always, Denise.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

FRIDAY, NEVADA STEPPED OUT of the bakery, the pink box she carried neatly tied with string. Yes, there were six chocolate cupcakes inside and she was pretty sure she was going to eat them all by herself. But it had been a stressful week and she deserved a sugar rush to make it all seem better.

The weird part was she didn’t usually eat a lot of sugar. Nor could she point to any particular event in her week and complain. Work was going great. They were going to be blasting in a couple of weeks and she was excited about that. From what she could tell, Cat and Tucker weren’t spending a lot of time together, although she kept reminding herself it wasn’t her business if they were. So the need for cupcakes was inexplicable, but very powerful.

She turned the corner and nearly ran into a man carrying a pizza box. Her body registered who it was before her brain recognized him.

“Tucker.”

He smiled at her. “I called you about a half hour ago, but you weren’t answering.”

She held up the pink box. “I had an emergency errand to run and forgot my cell phone at home.”

“I thought you might be out on a hot date.”

“Do three chocolate cupcakes and three coconut vanilla cupcakes count as a date?”

“It depends on what you do with them.”

They seemed to be staring at each other, she thought, rooted in place by forces she couldn’t name.

“I haven’t seen you much this week,” she murmured. “We’re both on-site at the same time, but in different places.”

She was out with her crew and he was in the trailer doing whatever it was potential owners of multibillion-dollar companies did.

“You’ve been busy with Cat,” he reminded her.

“She’s taking up a lot of my free time. Have you spent any time with her?”

“Not since the day she arrived.” He sounded pleased as he spoke, as if this were good news.

“She’s still really beautiful.”

He shrugged. “Not interested. I’m done with her. It was over years ago.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly her shoulders didn’t seem as tight and the evening was a little brighter.

He held up the pizza box. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

She laughed. “Sounds good. Let’s go back to my place. I have wine waiting.”

“Wine and cupcakes. Talk about a party. You’re my kind of girl.”

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at her kitchen table, pizza on plates, wine in glasses.

“How’s your mom doing?” he asked between bites.

“Good. She and Max have worked things out. Apparently he proposed because he thought that’s what she wanted and she freaked out. They’ve talked everything over and are in a committed relationship that won’t end in marriage.” Nevada shook her head. “While I’m thrilled that she’s happy, I never thought this was anything close to a conversation I would be having with my mother.”