Chapter 35
Work was good.
Work meant she was busy.
Work meant she kept her sanity intact and didn't splinter into a thousand different pieces, never to be whole again.
Work kept her focused on what was important, she thought as she arranged and re-arranged the window displays in the front. Matthew.
Her son needed her, and she wasn't going to let him down no matter how much she wanted to just lie down and give up.
Give up and become the desperate young girl that had clawed and fought to win and keep Ethan.
Something inside her had broken the moment Ethan turned those guilt-stricken blue eyes on her as he whispered Whitney's name.
Whitney...
Her hand trembled as she unlocked the store's front entrance and opened the door to her first `customer' of the day.
Whitney's dark eyes were bloodshot, rivaling hers in puffiness. "Theresa...Honey..."
She swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat, taking a deep breath before she spoke. Dropping her hand from the door and walking away with slow, even steps. "Is there something I can help you with? Formal? Informal? Business? You tell me, Ms. Russell. What does a woman wear when she's planning on sleeping with her best friend's husband?"
"Theresa," Whitney answered in a pained whisper. "It wasn't like that. We didn't plan anything. I never meant to...Theresa, you have to believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I would give up everything, EVERYTHING, if it meant I could turn back the clock and change things. I never meant for this to happen," she choked.
Theresa hardened her heart to the tears and the pain. They meant nothing to her when she thought of all the tears and the pain she'd endured. "That makes all the difference in the world, now doesn't it?" she said in a steely voice. "Leave, Whitney. I can't...I can't look at you right now and be reminded..."
"Theresa...we can work this out. We don't have to let this destroy us. We can...You're my best friend," Whitney finished on a sob. Oblivious to the curious stares of the early morning shoppers trying to look uninterested.
Theresa closed her eyes and braced her hands on the counter in front of her. "Not anymore. Now would you please leave?" she implored her as she turned her attention to the customer holding up a richly colored scarf, a question in her eyes. "I think that scarf's perfect for you. And I also..."
"Theresa?"
Theresa paused in her pleasantries to meet Whitney's tormented gaze once more. "Yes?"
Whitney lowered her head, her lips moving noiselessly. "Nevermind. Sorry to waste your time," she murmured, tears in her voice.
"No," Theresa whispered. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hayes. Did you have something particular in mind?"
"My son's getting married," Mrs. Hayes gushed. "I want to look gorgeous. Without upstaging the bride," she said, winking at Theresa.
Theresa smiled at her. "It's going to be tough, but I think we'll manage."
Mrs. Hayes's harmless chatter was a welcome distraction.
A most welcome distraction.
Work was the only thing beside Matthew she had left to hold on to.
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She woke up in his arms.
Warm.
Protected.
And calm.
After last night, she feared she'd never know another night's peace again.
But he changed all that.
By being the friend she so desperately needed.
The friend for whom she also had very confusing feelings.
"Gwen." His voice rumbled deep within his chest.
Her hair fell forward, framing her face, as she stared down at him.
His sleep-rumpled brown hair. His open, concerned brown eyes. His easy smile.
She leaned into the hand that gently cupped her cheek with a sigh.
"Good morning," he whispered as he twisted silky auburn strands around his fingers. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked as she lay her head against his bare chest.
The steady thump of his heartbeat lulled her into an even deeper state of calm.
"I slept fine," she murmured drowsily. Draping her arm around his waist and burrowing deeper into his side. "Thank you."
His hand stroked her hair absently as he felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was in bed, with a beautiful, skimpily clad woman, and she was thanking him. For simply holding her through the night. It was the most intimate thing he'd done in years. "You're welcome. You know...I'm enjoying this. You have NO idea how much I'm enjoying this. But all good things must come to an end," he paused. Certain she was smiling against his chest. "We can't stay in this bed forever, and we can't avoid the real world." He frowned as he felt her body tense against his. "Gwen. We have to talk. About last night. Something had you upset. I don't know what. Whatever it was, we need to talk about it. And we need to talk about this..." he trailed off. "This...whatever we have between us. Gwen? Gwen, don't clam up on me again. You know this is something we need to do. I'm worried about you. As a friend."
She pushed back the dread she felt, swelling and threatening to swallow her whole, and raised herself up on one elbow to meet his uncertain gaze.
His lips were soft and pliant against hers as they brushed against each other gently. Innocently.
"I know," she sighed.
"Now or never," he attempted to tease.
Now or never, she thought with a nervous smile.
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Chad shook his head, chuckling, as he tossed the lacy black lingerie over his shoulder. Then peeled his tee-shirt off and dropped it to the floor as well.
He threw his now useless razor in the trash before turning his attention back to the clutter taking up the better part of his bathroom counter. Floral-scented shampoo. Skin moisturizer. A tube of mascara.
If someone didn't know better, they'd think a woman lived here.
Which wasn't too far from the truth. At least for the last few days.
Kay'd had Jessica pack a bag of her things and drop them off the previous evening.
All without asking, of course.
But he found he didn't mind.
There hadn't been any question actually.
He still didn't totally buy that Grace Bennett had tried to drown her own daughter, but there was something seriously wrong going on in that house.
Kay got the bed.
He got the sofa.
And the peace of mind that came with knowing the fiercely defensive young woman currently tearing his kitchen apart was safe. Working on his last nerve. But safe.
"Chad."
He met her dark eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
Standing behind him in her too big, borrowed pajama shirt that stopped just above her knees, and her bare feet, she looked impossibly young.
And utterly appealing, he realized with a jolt. "Need something?" he asked as he squeezed toothpaste out of the tube onto his toothbrush.
She crossed her arms around her chest, and his eyes flew to the expanse of pale skin revealed by her movements. A tiny smirk played on her lips at his reaction, and those wild eyes sparkled at him. "When was the last time you actually had food in that kitchen?"
He thought back. "Three, four days..."
"Think again," she scoffed. "Try a week. I am NOT eating Chinese for breakfast," she grumbled.
Whoa girl, he thought. Make yourself at home. He grabbed a towel off the rack and rubbed it briskly across his face.
"Chad," she sighed. Studying him through her veil of dark, tangled hair.
"Alright," he finally relented. "Get some clothes on. Coffee and a muffin at the Book Café sound good to you?"
"Beats the alternative," she shrugged her shoulders as she turned around to walk away.
"I need to take a quick shower," he told her as he eased the door shut.
"Hurry up!"
Bossy, opinionated, demanding...
How the hell had THIS happened?
Save the girl's life, and you were stuck with her.
Work was good.
Work meant she was busy.
Work meant she kept her sanity intact and didn't splinter into a thousand different pieces, never to be whole again.
Work kept her focused on what was important, she thought as she arranged and re-arranged the window displays in the front. Matthew.
Her son needed her, and she wasn't going to let him down no matter how much she wanted to just lie down and give up.
Give up and become the desperate young girl that had clawed and fought to win and keep Ethan.
Something inside her had broken the moment Ethan turned those guilt-stricken blue eyes on her as he whispered Whitney's name.
Whitney...
Her hand trembled as she unlocked the store's front entrance and opened the door to her first `customer' of the day.
Whitney's dark eyes were bloodshot, rivaling hers in puffiness. "Theresa...Honey..."
She swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat, taking a deep breath before she spoke. Dropping her hand from the door and walking away with slow, even steps. "Is there something I can help you with? Formal? Informal? Business? You tell me, Ms. Russell. What does a woman wear when she's planning on sleeping with her best friend's husband?"
"Theresa," Whitney answered in a pained whisper. "It wasn't like that. We didn't plan anything. I never meant to...Theresa, you have to believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I would give up everything, EVERYTHING, if it meant I could turn back the clock and change things. I never meant for this to happen," she choked.
Theresa hardened her heart to the tears and the pain. They meant nothing to her when she thought of all the tears and the pain she'd endured. "That makes all the difference in the world, now doesn't it?" she said in a steely voice. "Leave, Whitney. I can't...I can't look at you right now and be reminded..."
"Theresa...we can work this out. We don't have to let this destroy us. We can...You're my best friend," Whitney finished on a sob. Oblivious to the curious stares of the early morning shoppers trying to look uninterested.
Theresa closed her eyes and braced her hands on the counter in front of her. "Not anymore. Now would you please leave?" she implored her as she turned her attention to the customer holding up a richly colored scarf, a question in her eyes. "I think that scarf's perfect for you. And I also..."
"Theresa?"
Theresa paused in her pleasantries to meet Whitney's tormented gaze once more. "Yes?"
Whitney lowered her head, her lips moving noiselessly. "Nevermind. Sorry to waste your time," she murmured, tears in her voice.
"No," Theresa whispered. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry, Mrs. Hayes. Did you have something particular in mind?"
"My son's getting married," Mrs. Hayes gushed. "I want to look gorgeous. Without upstaging the bride," she said, winking at Theresa.
Theresa smiled at her. "It's going to be tough, but I think we'll manage."
Mrs. Hayes's harmless chatter was a welcome distraction.
A most welcome distraction.
Work was the only thing beside Matthew she had left to hold on to.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
She woke up in his arms.
Warm.
Protected.
And calm.
After last night, she feared she'd never know another night's peace again.
But he changed all that.
By being the friend she so desperately needed.
The friend for whom she also had very confusing feelings.
"Gwen." His voice rumbled deep within his chest.
Her hair fell forward, framing her face, as she stared down at him.
His sleep-rumpled brown hair. His open, concerned brown eyes. His easy smile.
She leaned into the hand that gently cupped her cheek with a sigh.
"Good morning," he whispered as he twisted silky auburn strands around his fingers. "Did you sleep okay?" he asked as she lay her head against his bare chest.
The steady thump of his heartbeat lulled her into an even deeper state of calm.
"I slept fine," she murmured drowsily. Draping her arm around his waist and burrowing deeper into his side. "Thank you."
His hand stroked her hair absently as he felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was in bed, with a beautiful, skimpily clad woman, and she was thanking him. For simply holding her through the night. It was the most intimate thing he'd done in years. "You're welcome. You know...I'm enjoying this. You have NO idea how much I'm enjoying this. But all good things must come to an end," he paused. Certain she was smiling against his chest. "We can't stay in this bed forever, and we can't avoid the real world." He frowned as he felt her body tense against his. "Gwen. We have to talk. About last night. Something had you upset. I don't know what. Whatever it was, we need to talk about it. And we need to talk about this..." he trailed off. "This...whatever we have between us. Gwen? Gwen, don't clam up on me again. You know this is something we need to do. I'm worried about you. As a friend."
She pushed back the dread she felt, swelling and threatening to swallow her whole, and raised herself up on one elbow to meet his uncertain gaze.
His lips were soft and pliant against hers as they brushed against each other gently. Innocently.
"I know," she sighed.
"Now or never," he attempted to tease.
Now or never, she thought with a nervous smile.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Chad shook his head, chuckling, as he tossed the lacy black lingerie over his shoulder. Then peeled his tee-shirt off and dropped it to the floor as well.
He threw his now useless razor in the trash before turning his attention back to the clutter taking up the better part of his bathroom counter. Floral-scented shampoo. Skin moisturizer. A tube of mascara.
If someone didn't know better, they'd think a woman lived here.
Which wasn't too far from the truth. At least for the last few days.
Kay'd had Jessica pack a bag of her things and drop them off the previous evening.
All without asking, of course.
But he found he didn't mind.
There hadn't been any question actually.
He still didn't totally buy that Grace Bennett had tried to drown her own daughter, but there was something seriously wrong going on in that house.
Kay got the bed.
He got the sofa.
And the peace of mind that came with knowing the fiercely defensive young woman currently tearing his kitchen apart was safe. Working on his last nerve. But safe.
"Chad."
He met her dark eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
Standing behind him in her too big, borrowed pajama shirt that stopped just above her knees, and her bare feet, she looked impossibly young.
And utterly appealing, he realized with a jolt. "Need something?" he asked as he squeezed toothpaste out of the tube onto his toothbrush.
She crossed her arms around her chest, and his eyes flew to the expanse of pale skin revealed by her movements. A tiny smirk played on her lips at his reaction, and those wild eyes sparkled at him. "When was the last time you actually had food in that kitchen?"
He thought back. "Three, four days..."
"Think again," she scoffed. "Try a week. I am NOT eating Chinese for breakfast," she grumbled.
Whoa girl, he thought. Make yourself at home. He grabbed a towel off the rack and rubbed it briskly across his face.
"Chad," she sighed. Studying him through her veil of dark, tangled hair.
"Alright," he finally relented. "Get some clothes on. Coffee and a muffin at the Book Café sound good to you?"
"Beats the alternative," she shrugged her shoulders as she turned around to walk away.
"I need to take a quick shower," he told her as he eased the door shut.
"Hurry up!"
Bossy, opinionated, demanding...
How the hell had THIS happened?
Save the girl's life, and you were stuck with her.