One Good Reason. Sarah Mayberry

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СКАЧАТЬ blew out the single candle. They moved to the couches while Tyler prepared coffees with their shiny new espresso machine.

      Jon’s gaze kept drifting to the wall clock, trying to calculate when it would be acceptable for him to leave. Immediately after coffee? Or would that mark him as the crassest of social boors?

      He jiggled his leg impatiently, willing Tyler to hurry. Once the coffee was ready, Jon gulped his down while it was still too hot and earned himself a burned tongue for his troubles. Finally he decided he must be in the clear and made his excuses.

      It wasn’t until he was on the porch, the door closed behind him that he remembered he’d planned to apologize to Gabby again.

      He turned, raising his hand to knock, but lowered it without doing so. The least he could do was apologize in private, save Gabby a rehashing of what had obviously been an embarrassing moment.

      He’d have to find a few minutes alone with her at work tomorrow. No doubt she’d find some way to give him a hard time. But he’d do the right thing because, contrary to what she obviously believed, he wasn’t a bad guy.

      IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT BY THE time Gabby let herself into her apartment. She threw her bag onto the couch and checked her answering machine—nothing—then walked to her bedroom and into the ensuite.

      Flicking on the light, she gave herself a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness before beginning her nightly ritual. First, she washed her face, then patted it dry and smoothed a lightly scented moisturizer onto her face, neck and shoulders. She switched to almond-scented body lotion for her arms, hands and legs, working it in with long, smooth strokes.

      At least you didn’t give up everything. Apparently, you still care if your skin is nice.

      Her hands stilled on her calf. Somehow, she’d managed to keep a lid on her emotions. But now she was in the safety of her own home and it was time to come clean with herself.

      More than time—about four years overdue, in fact.

      She straightened, and for the second time that night she stared at her own image in the mirror, trying to understand herself.

      Was she still in love with Tyler? Was that what all this was about? Had she been kidding herself for years when all along she’d been holding a candle, pining, hoping?

      Dear God. Please don’t let me be that woman. Please don’t let me be that pathetic.

      She didn’t want it to be true. But the facts were pretty damned convincing. She’d gone on exactly one date since she’d broken up with Tyler. One date in four years. And it wasn’t through lack of invitations, either. She’d had her share of admirers in those first few years of being single again. She couldn’t remember what excuses she’d come up with for not accepting any of the offers to see a movie or go out for dinner. She simply hadn’t been interested, and eventually the offers had dried up.

      If she was being honest, she’d have to admit she hadn’t really noticed or cared. She’d been too busy organizing Tyler’s business—whipping it into shape when she first came on board then doing all she could to help lift him to the next level in subsequent years. Too busy recasting herself as Tyler’s faithful sidekick, the sexless, tireless little buddy who never let him down.

       What did you think was going to happen—that he’d admire your skill with a balance sheet so much that he’d finally fall all the way in love with you?

      Because, of course, Tyler had never loved her the way she’d loved him.

      It still hurt, even after all these years. She turned her back on her reflection, unwilling to play witness to her own unhappiness. Which pretty much answered the big question, didn’t it?

      She brushed her teeth, staring at the tile wall. Once she was finished, she walked into the bedroom and stripped to her underwear. Kicking her clothes into the corner, she crawled beneath the covers.

      The sheets were cool against her skin and she shivered as she waited for them to warm, legs drawn up, arms pulled tightly to her chest.

      On nights such as these, she used to make Tyler spoon her from behind, the heat of his body like a furnace against her back. She’d loved feeling his warm breath on the nape of her neck, loved having one of his strong arms wrapped around her. Tyler had always moved in his sleep, however—he’d liked to spread out, to have his own space. Nine times out of ten she’d woken to find their positions reversed, him curling away from her while she clung to his back, her body molded to his.

      Chasing him, needing him, even in her sleep.

      She made a distressed sound and burrowed deeper into the pillow. It didn’t stop the tears from coming. Four years’ worth, pushed down deep.

      The truth was, she’d never allowed herself to grieve for Tyler. She’d been too busy being tough. Moving on. Assuring him there were no hard feelings and that they’d still be a part of each other’s lives. She’d convinced herself that she’d done all her grieving beforehand, before she’d made the painful, wrenching decision to call things off between them. She’d been so sure she had it all together, that she was on top of it.

      More fool her.

      Her pillow was getting wet. She rolled onto her back. The sound of her sobs seemed very loud in her quiet bedroom. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes down her temples into her hair. She pressed her palms to her sternum and pushed, willing the ache to go away.

      She didn’t want to still love Tyler. She didn’t want to be this weak and tragic.

      Dear God, if Mom could see me now, she’d kick my backside into the middle of next week.

      The thought prompted a hiccuping laugh. Gabby sniffed noisily, then sat up and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

      She’d been raised by a fiercely independent woman who’d prided herself on never needing anyone—men being at the very top of that list. Divorced from Gabby’s father when Gabby was only two years old and her sister, Angela, barely one, Rachel Wade had thrown herself into single motherhood like an Amazonian warrior. She’d taught herself how to change fuses, tap washers and car tires and had hammered into her daughters from the moment they were old enough to understand that they always had to stand on their own two feet and that no one could ever make them unhappy unless they allowed it.

      Nice in theory, but often not so great in practice, as Gabby and her sister had discovered many times over the years.

      Fortunately for Gabby, her mother was halfway around the world at present, living her dream of working and traveling through Europe.

      Still, the thought of her mother was enough to make Gabby reach for the box of tissues. She blew her nose, mopped her eyes dry. Then she switched pillows and lay down and tried to go to sleep.

      There wasn’t much else she could do, after all. She’d been in love before—Billy Harrison when she was seventeen, Gareth Devenish when she was in her early twenties. Neither of them had been as important in her life as Tyler was, but both experiences had taught her that there was no willing away a broken heart. She would simply have to wait the pain out.

       It’s been four years. How long do you freaking want?

      A good question. A scary one, too, because she’d already СКАЧАТЬ