This Heart of Mine (Chicago Stars #5)(47)

"You dared me!"

"If I'd dared you to drink poison, would you have been stupid enough to do that, too?"

She didn't know if she was angrier with him for goading her into being so reckless or at herself for taking the bait. Water flew as she slapped it with her arm. "Look at me! I act like a normal person when I'm around other people!"

"Normal?" He blinked the splash from his eyes. "Is that why I found you holed up in your apartment looking like spoiled shrimp?"

"At least I was safe there, instead of catching pneumonia here!" Her teeth began to chatter, and her icy, waterlogged clothes pulled at her. "Or maybe making me jump off a cliff is your idea of therapy?"

"I didn't think you'd do it!"

"I'm nuts, remember?"

"Molly…"

"Crazy Molly!"

"I didn't say—"

"That's what you're thinking. Molly the fruitcake! Molly the lunatic! Off her rocker! Certifiable! The tiniest little miscarriage, and she flips out!"

She choked. She hadn't meant to say that, hadn't ever intended to mention it again. But the same force that had made her jump off the cliff had pushed out the words.

A thick, heavy silence fell between them. When he finally broke it, she heard his pity. "Let's go in now so you can get warmed up." He turned away and began swimming toward the shore.

She had started to cry, so she stayed where she was.

He reached the bank, but he didn't try to climb out. Instead, he looked back at her. The water lapped at his waist, and his voice was a gentle ripple. "You need to get out. It'll be dark soon."

The cold had numbed her limbs, but it hadn't numbed her heart. Grief overwhelmed her. She wanted to sink under the surface and never come up. She gulped for air and whispered words she'd never intended to say. "You don't care, do you?"

"You're just trying to pick a fight," he said softly. "Come on. Your teeth are chattering."

Words slid through the tightness in her throat. "I know you don't care. I even understand."

"Molly, don't do this to yourself."

"We had a little girl," she whispered. "I made them find out and tell me."

The water lapped the bank. His hushed words drifted across the smooth surface. "I didn't know."

"I named her Sarah."

"You're tired. This isn't a good time."

She shook her head. Looked up into the sky. Spoke the truth, not to condemn him, just to point out why he could never understand how she felt. "Losing her didn't mean anything to you."

"I haven't thought about it. The baby wasn't real to me like it was to you."

"She! The baby was a she, not an it!"

"I'm sorry."

The unfairness of attacking him silenced her. It was wrong to condemn him for not sharing her suffering. Of course the baby hadn't been real to him. He hadn't invited Molly into his bed, hadn't wanted a child, hadn't carried the baby inside him.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to yell. My emotions keep getting away from me." Her hand trembled as she pushed a strand of wet hair from her eyes. "I won't bring this up again. I promise you."

"Come on out now," he said quietly.

Her limbs were clumsy from the cold, and her clothes heavy as she swam toward the bank. By the time she got there, he'd climbed out onto a low, flat rock.

He crouched down and pulled her up beside him. She landed on her knees, a cold, dripping, miserable wreck.

He tried to lighten the mood. "At least I kicked off my shoes before I dove in. Yours flew off when you hit the water. I'd have gone after them, but I was in shock."

The rock had retained some of the day's heat, and a little of it seeped through her clammy shorts. "It doesn't matter. They were my oldest sandals." Her last pair of Manolo Blahniks. Given the current state of her finances, she'd have to replace them with rubber shower thongs.

"You can pick up another pair in town tomorrow." He rose. "We'd better head back before you get sick. Why don't you start walking? I'll catch up with you as soon as I rescue my own shoes."

He headed back up the path. She hugged herself against the evening chill and put one foot in front of the other, trying not to think. She hadn't gone far before he came up next to her, T-shirt and shorts sticking to his body. They walked in silence for a while.

"The thing is…"

When he didn't go on, she looked up at him. "What?"

He looked troubled. "Forget it."

The woods rustled around them with evening sounds. "All right."

He shifted his shoes from one hand to the other. "After it was over… I just… I didn't let myself think about her."

She understood, but it made her feel even lonelier.

He hesitated. She wasn't used to that. He always seemed so certain. "What do you think she—" He cleared his throat. "What do you think Sarah would have been like?"

Her heart constricted. A fresh wave of pain swept over her, but it didn't throb in the same way as her old pain. Instead, it stung like antiseptic on a cut.

Her lungs expanded, contracted, expanded again. She was startled to realize she could still breathe, that her legs could still move. She heard the crickets begin their evening jam. A squirrel scuffled in the leaves.