Deep (Pagano Family #4)(92)

He went to church every Sunday, and he liked her to go, too. She was spiritual, not religious. She had no idea how he felt about that difference between them. Seeing his family arrayed at Sunday Mass, filling up two whole pews all the way across the church and spilling over onto another pew, she thought he would expect their children to be Catholic. But she didn’t know.

They didn’t live together. She knew he didn’t really like her apartment—there was too much pink and purple and flowers. She liked girly things. His apartment was bigger and nicer, but not her taste any more than hers was his. And she didn’t want to live in a condo forever. She wanted a house with a real kitchen. And a yard with a garden. Maybe he planned to live in the condo forever. She didn’t know.

She still didn’t know. Because he wouldn’t f*cking talk about it. They’d had that painful exchange at Carmen and Theo’s wedding, and he’d told her he was having a ring made for her. She’d said she needed to talk, and then he seemed to have flipped a switch or something. Or rewound a tape. She’d gone to him that night, and they’d slept in his bed. In the morning, he acted like the previous hours hadn’t happened at all.

And that’s where they still were. He’d become inscrutable to her again, and that scared her. And pissed her off. Alternately. Sometimes concurrently.

When she got out of the shower, she towel-dried her hair and pulled her robe on, not bothering to cinch it closed. She’d get dressed and go down to his apartment. Since the wedding, they’d been spending more time at his place. That felt portentous, too.

He was standing in her kitchen, leaning against the far counter, his arms crossed. Though he usually came in whenever he wanted, she jumped when she saw him.

“God! You scared me.”

Not surprisingly, he didn’t apologize. “You didn’t stop by.”

“I was dirty from digging through backstock all day. I wanted to shower first.” She closed her robe.

“Is this what you working is going to be like now? Not home until after nine, don’t even say hi, don’t return my calls? That’s not how I work. I don’t sit around and wait.”

Anger was taking its turn. “Then don’t.”

He stared at her, and she stared back. “What are you saying, Beverly?”

“I don’t know. *footing around you is exhausting. If we’re not going to talk about what happened at Carmen’s wedding, then maybe we don’t have anything to talk about at all.” As soon as she said those words, fear squeezed in and made anger step back.

“Answer the question I asked, and then we’ll talk.” He stepped forward and put his hands flat on the nearer counter.

“Jesus! Nick, come on! Why? Why can’t we talk first?”

“Why can’t you just f*cking trust me?!” He slammed his hands down on the granite tile.

Bev nearly leapt backward. Nick had never yelled, not once ever, not at her or at anyone else that she’d ever seen or heard.

Once the shock had ebbed, though, she wasn’t afraid. She was moved and sorry—she’d really hurt him. She crossed the room and stood on the other side of the counter, between the two chairs that were her dining area. “I do trust you.”

He shook his head. “Not if you need me to fill out a questionnaire first. Not if you don’t know I’ll make you happy.”

“Kids, a home—that stuff is important. What if we don’t agree? Why can’t we talk first?”

“Are you saying if we don’t want exactly the same things right now, you don’t love me enough to find a compromise?”

Bev blinked. That wasn’t what she was saying at all—or it wasn’t what she’d meant. But Nick wasn’t a compromising man. She was afraid that she’d end up living the life he wanted for her instead of the life she wanted.

But why, exactly, was she afraid of that? In fact, he’d made all sorts of compromises for her. He’d been gentle and patient with her. He’d practically lived in her girly apartment for months because she was more comfortable here. He was helping her with the bookshop, even though he didn’t want her to work.

He was right. She was hesitating over things that were supposed to matter, not things that actually did. She was trying to wedge their real love into her adolescent fantasy of what her married life would be. She’d choked, was what it came down to. And she’d f*cked up a beautiful moment and the weeks that had followed it.

So had he, though, with his cold way of pouting.

Walking around the counter into the kitchen, she stepped behind him and circled his waist with her arms. He dropped his head. “Nick, I love you. I know you’ll make me happy. I want to make you happy. So my answer is yes. I’m so sorry I didn’t say it right away. I should have.”

“Yeah, you should have.” He turned in her arms and took her face in his hands. “Don’t f*ck with me like that again.”

“I wasn’t f*cking with you. I was just scared.”

“Why? Of me?”

“No. Of losing myself again. I just got myself back.”

He stared into her eyes as his thumbs caressed her cheekbones. “I’ll never let you get lost again. I love you, bella.” With a quick peck to her lips, he pushed her away. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, he went around the counter, through the room, and out her door. Bev, expecting a much deeper kiss and also not to be alone, stood where he’d put her, dazed.