Author's apology: Once again I am so sorry for taking so long to update this story (and Shock Wave too). Real life has me riding a roller coaster for awhile now and from what I can see, it's not stopping anytime soon. And once again, I thank everyone for sticking with me and this story and for all your lovely reviews.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
He was late.
Paige glanced at her watch for the tenth time as she paced in front of the sofa in her living room. Walter was supposed to meet her at three so they could go to a movie, which started at four. It was now a little after six. Yanking her phone from her pocket, she checked her voice mail and texts, although she knew what she would find. Nothing.
With shaky fingers, she dialed his number for the twentieth time. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard it connect, only to have it plummet again upon hearing, "This is Walter O'Brien. Please leave a brief message."
Deep down, she knew it had been too good to be true. That he'd forgiven her. Had wanted her back in his life. That he still loved her. Of course there could be other reasons for his delay, none of them good. But she was certain he'd decided to end it. He'd finally come to his senses, realized he'd made a mistake. And the worst part of it all - she couldn't blame him.
A knock on her door, followed by a thump, stopped her in her tracks. Oh, God. Swirling around, she crossed the room in a couple of strides, and reached out, fumbling with the locks before swinging the door open.
Walter stood in the hallway, a crooked grin on his face. His clothes were streaked with dirt and splattered with blood. A large white bandage covered his right forearm and another rested over his left eye.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled as he slumped against the door frame. "I shoulda. . ."
"Oh, God, Walter," she said as she ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, searching for other injuries. Questions spilled out of her, not giving him a chance to reply. "Are you all right? What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else? Oh, God, what happened?"
"I'm sorry. . . I shoulda called. . . We hadda case." His words were slurred and he swayed unsteadily on his feet.
"How did you get here?" she wondered as she dragged him over to the couch where he plopped down heavily onto the cushions. He certainly wasn't in any condition to drive himself. And she didn't think he would get a ride from one of the other team members. Not unless he'd spilled the beans about them being back together.
"Took a cab." He raked his hand through his curls. "Not supposed to drive. I'm sorry. . ."
"It's all right, Walter." She sat down beside him and tried to calm herself, which was easier said than done. "What happened?"
"I woulda called," he said, "but I had to use my phone to blow up a rogue robot."
"Blow up a robot?" Okay, that was something they hadn't dealt with when she was still part of the team.
"Yeah." Running his hand over his face, he winced when he skimmed the bandage over his eye. "A refrigerator factory down in Guadalajara. Trouble installing their automation. Someone hacked their programming. The plant manager thought it was disgruntled displaced workers but he was wrong."
Paige smiled as she listened to him explain how they'd tried to fix the hack. About the one automaton which had gone berserk and nearly punctured a tank of refrigerant. As he told her how he'd used his cell as a detonator to blow it up as a last resort, she could feel him relax against her.
"So how did you get hurt?" she asked as his words tapered off.
"Got hit by shrapnel," he said, closing his eyes. "Had to push Happy out of the way so she wouldn't get the full force of the blast. Couldn't risk the baby getting hurt."
"Baby? What baby?" She was 100% certain he hadn't suddenly started calling Happy 'Baby'. So what the hell was he talking about?
"Happy's baby. Guess it's Toby's too. He keeps going on about his contribution. . ."
She cut him off, not really wanting to hear about the shrink's involvement. "Happy's pregnant?"
"Yeah. I told you. . .didn't I?"
"No, you did not. How far along? Do they know if it's a boy or a girl yet?
Walter rubbed his forehead. "Five months, give or take a few days. She doesn't go in for an ultrasound until next week."
He said it as if it were no big deal people she'd worked with for over three years were expecting a child. People who had once been her friends. People whose wedding she'd organized at the last minute. People who had shunned her, and rightly so.
"What's wrong?" He was staring at her, the weariness in his eyes replaced with concern.
"Nothing really," she said, glancing away from his gaze as a tear spilled down her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"What for?" he asked.
"For what I did. For what I'm missing." She wiped at her face. "I still don't understand how you can forgive me. What I did. . .it was unforgivable."
"Paige. . ."
"No. I was such a selfish bitch. . . Still am a selfish bitch. . ."
"Don't say that, it's not true."
"Yes, it is. Here I am feeling sorry for myself when I should be glad for Happy and Toby. . .and worried about your injuries and. . ." She hiccuped out a sob. "I was worried you'd been hurt. . .or worse. But I was even more afraid you'd decided you didn't want to be with me anymore and. . ."
"Paige. . ." Walter sat up straighter before taking her into his arms. "Don't cry. I'll always want to be with you. The year we spent apart nearly killed me." A statement which was truer than she'd ever know. "I love you. Okay?"
"I love you, too." A tremulous smile graced her lips and he couldn't resist kissing her. Her mouth was so soft and yielding, his tongue easily slipping inside. Her hands found their way into his hair, where she twisted strands around her fingers.
He was surprised as desire surged through him. Tired by the day's events, not to mention his injuries, he'd only wanted to. . .no, needed to see her. Sex had not been one of his objectives. But now. . .
He sank down onto the couch cushions, tugging her along until she straddled him. He pressed his mouth to hers again as he caressed his way down her back.
"Walter. . . Wait. . ." She tried to push herself upward but he kept her pinned to him. "Let me up," she protested. "You've been injured. . . We can't. . ."
"I'm fine," he replied. More than fine now she was atop him, the heat of her body mixed with her lavender scent stirring his already overloaded senses. "It's only a few stitches," he murmured before gliding his hands under her shirt.
"A few stitches that could rip out if we. . ." Her words trailed off when his fingertips grazed the tips of her breasts through her bra. She bit her lip, her cheeks turning pink as her nipples hardened in response. "Oh, God. . ."
"We'll just have to be careful."
"Are you sure?" she asked in a husky whisper. "You're not in pain or anything?"
"Nah, they gave me something at the hospital." Which was true. Plus he didn't consider a twinge now and again to be 'in pain'.
He kissed her again as he grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it upward, their lips breaking apart for the second it took to pull the garment over her head. Her bra was next, freeing her breasts so he could suckle them.
She said his name in breathless moans as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally giving up and wrenching off the last few. Her grunt of disappointment drew his attention as did the hand she rubbed on his t-shirt covered chest.
"Let me help you," Walter said as she pushed his button-down off his shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he freed his left arm easily. The right proved a problem though, the gauze bandage covering his forearm was thick and it was going to be difficult to maneuver over it. There was only one logical solution.
Grasping the neck of his tee with both hands, he tore the shirt down the middle, exposing his bare chest. He glanced up as she gasped, saw the primal lust in her wide eyes, caused, he surmised, by the violence of his actions..
"Oh, my God, Walter," she said before leaning down to smash her mouth onto his, proving his hypothesis correct.
ooooo
Paige unlocked the door to her apartment before stepping inside. A swift glance at her watch told her it was seven minutes past nine. Ralph would be home any second. She knew she was cutting it close but she'd taken Walter back to the garage, staying long enough to make sure he was settled for the night.
As she put away her coat and purse, she recalled how unnerved she'd been. She wasn't sure how Walter could stand to still live there, in the place where their relationship had shattered into a million pieces. She'd been sick to her stomach during the entire twenty minutes it had taken to convince him to take another painkiller and tuck him into bed. Thankfully he'd been too exhausted to notice her distress.
A key being inserted into the lock shook her from her brooding. She practically sprinted to the kitchen as Ralph walked through the door. Opening the refrigerator, she tried to appear nonchalant as he tossed his backpack on the couch, the one where only a few hours ago she and Walter had. . . Her cheeks flushed with heat and she was glad for the cool air coming from the fridge.
"Hey," she said as he reached into the cupboard. "How was your class?"
Ralph shrugged. "Fine."
"You want something to drink?"
"What gave it away?" He waggled the glass in his hand as if to emphasis the sarcasm in his tone.
"Ralph. . ."
"Sorry. Yes, the orange juice, please."
She handed him the carton and watch as he emptied it into his glass. "Here, I'll throw it away," she said, extending her hand to take it from him.
"I can do it." Ralph tossed it into the trash then headed toward the living room. Wrinkling his nose at the funky smell coming from the couch as he set down his glass, he then grabbed at his game controller. It skidded off the coffee table, landing on the floor. Bending over to pick it up, he noticed a piece of white cloth sticking out from underneath the sofa.
Curious, he pulled out a mangled t-shirt and held it up. Obviously not one of his as it was several sizes too big. It had been ripped down the middle but the shoulders and sleeves appeared to have been cut with scissors.
He heard his mother gasp and raised his eyes to meet her panicked ones. "What the hell is this?" he asked, even though he sure already knew the answer. "It's not mine. Who does it belong to? Your new boyfriend?"
"I don't have a new boyfriend," she replied, lowering her gaze like she was hiding something.
"You're not back together with Tim, are you?" He spat out the man's name like it was curse word.
"No. . . I-I would never. . .." He could hear the indignation in her tone. "It's. . .It's. . . I was. . .cleaning. Dusting."
Ralph inspected the shirt again and except for a couple of brownish spots near the collar, it was immaculate. "Try again," he said, wondering why she was lying. It clearly belonged to a man she'd had sex with on the sofa he'd been about to sit on. Gross. That was it. He'd had enough of her crap.
"I'm going to go live with my dad."
"No, you're not." She shook her head as if to emphasis her denial. "He'll never agree to it."
She had him there. The last couple of times he broached the subject with Drew, he'd always had a ready excuse why it wasn't feasible. It was baseball season, he was out on the road all the time; it was winter, the weather was bad; he'd just moved to a one bedroom apartment. All seemingly valid reasons. But Ralph knew if his dad actually wanted him to come live with him, nothing would have kept them apart.
And if truth be told, he really didn't want to go live with Drew. He wanted to live with Walter. The man who should have been his dad. And who could have been if his mother hadn't destroyed any chance of that ever happening.
He threw the mutilated shirt at her. "I don't care. I'd rather live anywhere than with you." He ran out of the room, bumping the coffee table with his leg, knocking over his glass of juice, spilling its contents all over the carpet.
Good, he thought as he slammed his bedroom door. Now she could use that stupid t-shirt to clean up a mess he'd made for once. He flopped down onto his bed, trying to ignore the tears leaking from his eyes. He wanted to hate her. Had every reason why he should. But, dammit, he just couldn't.
And he hated that.
ooooo
A beep from across the room woke Walter from his painkiller induced sleep. A glance at his alarm informed him it was just after midnight. With a groan, he closed his eyes as he rolled over onto his side.
The beep sounded again. Resignation filled him as he sat up, his head swimming a little, and he touched the bandage on his forehead. He managed to make the short walk to his computer desk despite his wobbly legs and dizziness.
His face broke out in a grin, however, when he saw a message from Ralph and eagerly opened it.
'Hey, Walter. Have you made any progress on the antenna?'
The last time they'd communicated, Walter had told the boy genius of his idea to build a antenna to establish a link to the decommissioned Cassiopeia VI satellite. 'Purchased the necessary hardware,' he typed. 'Been too busy with work to accomplish much else. Still want your input.'
'I want to actually help.'
He could sense the youngster's frustration in those five words. It matched his own. 'I'd like that too but. . .'
He never finished his response as it interrupted by another message from Ralph. 'I want to contact you in person. I miss you.'
'I miss you too buddy.' He didn't know how to make that happen though. It was up to Paige and she'd seemed hesitant to tell her son they were back together, making excuses whenever their discussions headed in that direction. He'd already gone behind her back once. He wouldn't do it again.
Deciding the time had come to introduce her into their conversation, he quickly typed, 'How is your mom?' and sent it before he could change his mind.
'Why do you want to know? I thought you hated her.'
'I could never hate her. '
'Why not? She cheated on you.'
'I know. It doesn't matter. I still love her.'
Walter stared at his confession as the seconds ticked by without a reply from Ralph. Afraid the boy had ended their chat, his fingers remained poised over the keyboard as he contemplated his next move.
'Will you be able to monitor solar storms with the antenna?'
The abrupt change of subject threw him for a moment until he realized Ralph was going to pretend the mention of his mother had never occurred. Walter ran his hand over his face. Paige had been correct about raising the boy's hopes. He never wanted Ralph to go through the disappointment and pain yet another break up between them would cause. Hell, it was something he never wanted to experience again either.
Walter took a deep breath, resolving to do everything in his power to ensure he and Paige and Ralph stayed together forever before typing out the answer to the boy genius's inquiry.