Deep (Pagano Family #4)(90)

“Marry me, bella.”

Her hand had been caressing his chest again. Now it went still. She didn’t move or speak. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “This isn’t an impulse. You know I’m not impulsive. I’m having a ring made already. But I don’t want to wait to ask. I love you. Marry me. Sposami.”

“Nick…”

That wasn’t the word he’d wanted coming out of her mouth at that moment. He put his thumb over her lips and shook his head. “Don’t tell me no.”

She pulled her head free of his grasp. “I don’t want to tell you no. But I feel like our whole relationship has been about me healing. Do we even know each other? I didn’t even know if you can dance. I don’t know your middle name.”

“That’s not important. Those are things you can learn with one word. No, I can’t dance. Gavino is my middle name. What we know about each other is deeper than that—because of what has happened since we’ve been together.”

She studied him, and he willed her to say the word he wanted. Anger and disappointment were crowding in at the edges of his mind. He’d expected her answer to be yes, quickly and unequivocally. She loved him. She wanted him. She’d just said that she didn’t want to say no. Why would she hesitate?

“What…what about family? We’ve never talked about that. We haven’t talked about where to live or whether to have kids or anything we want about the future. Those aren’t one-word answers.”

“So we’ll talk about that. We’ll talk about it all. But you can answer my question with just one word. Please, bella.” He was not a man who begged, but he said it again. “Please.”

Though night had fallen, he could see tears in her eyes. They glittered in the shine of the party lights strung around the beach. She wasn’t going to give him the answer he needed.

“I can’t answer yet. I need to talk first. I’m sorry.”

Nick knew hurt in that moment greater than he could remember since he was a boy. The hurt brought a wave of anger surging behind it, more than he could safely contain if he let it come on fully.

So he turned it off.

“Okay. It’s time to go.” He set her off his lap.

“Nick, wait.”

“Get your things, Beverly. It’s time to go.”



oOo



That night, Nick left Beverly in her apartment and returned to his own. For the first time in months, he would sleep in his own bed. Alone.

He knew she wanted to marry him. If she thought they didn’t know each other well enough, then she was stupid. After all his patience since the attack at the diner, after everything he’d tried to do to help her, she didn’t trust him enough to answer his question in the way they both wanted.

He felt exposed, and he didn’t like that feeling one bit.

It was too early and he was too agitated to sleep, so he took a quick shower, pulled on a pair of sweats, and poured himself a scotch. Then he went out onto his balcony and watched the night ocean. He lit a cigarette and thought his dark thoughts.

Though he lived outside of Quiet Cove, the night was fairly still, and he could hear the faint sounds of Carmen and Theo’s reception—music and laughter carried over the sand. Carmen had teased him for not having fun, but he’d enjoyed the day. He simply wasn’t someone who played. He never had been.

But that wasn’t true. He’d been a pretty normal kid, he thought. Until he was fifteen.

He took a long draw from his cigarette and sighed out the smoke. Maybe Beverly was right to hesitate. He was dark, she was light. She had had fun today, laughing and mingling, playing with the kids, chatting with his family. Loving him had almost doused her light, but she’d gotten it back.

He’d left the balcony door open behind him, and now he heard a knock at his front door. He stubbed out his cigarette, finished his scotch, and went back inside. He checked the peephole, saw who he expected to see, and opened the door.

Beverly was wearing one of the long t-shirts she slept in. She’d been crying.

He’d done that.

“I’m afraid to sleep alone,” she whispered, her voice soft with sadness.

He’d done that, too.

“Bella.” He pulled her close.

They slept in his bed that night.





22



Lady Catterley jumped up onto the desk and stretched out over Bev’s laptop. When Bev looked up from the file drawer, the Excel spreadsheet she’d been working on was going haywire.

“Cat! Ugh!” She pushed the cat onto the floor. “Get out of here, you walking hairball!”

Feeling instantly guilty for yelling, she changed her tone. “I’m sorry, Catty.” The cat turned and, with a flick of her tail, sauntered off into the stacks.

Bev undid the chaos the cat had wrought in the spreadsheet. And then went back to staring at the chaos that had already been there.

Chris had been a terrible record-keeper. How he’d avoided being audited, she had no idea.

“I found eight boxes in the corner of the side stockroom that look like they were stuck back there and forgotten. There was half an inch of dust.” Standing in the office doorway, Katrynn, the new manager of Cover to Cover Books, whose serendipitous last name was Page, brushed her hands together, making a little cloud that illustrated her point. “Did you call me?”