She blinked, startled, looking as though she had abruptly crashed to earth. “You’re...leaving?”
“I can’t love you again and then just watch you walk away. I have a heart, Emily...and it will only take so much.”
She bit her lip, her gaze sliding away from his. Wade hesitated a moment, aching with need for her, calling himself a fool, wishing she would say something to change his mind. And then calling himself a fool again.
He turned on his heel and headed for the door before he could change his own mind.
Emily followed him silently to the door. He couldn’t resist kissing her one more time before he stepped outside. “Good night. Call if you need me, okay?”
She nodded, and started to close the door behind him. And then something made her pause. “Wade?”
He turned on the porch to face her, hope flaring. “Yes?”
“Some...” She stopped, cleared her throat and began again. “Some people are saying you’re interested in me because of Clay. Because you think I’d be a good stepmother to him.”
Hope turned to a hot surge of anger. Emily must have seen the flare in his eyes, because she immediately looked twice as nervous as she had before. “I...er...just thought you’d want to know what people were saying,” she said hastily.
“Not particularly,” he answered a bit too evenly, trying to control his temper—which wasn’t usually so difficult for him. “I think I’ve told you before that idle gossip doesn’t concern me. Had you been the one to make that accusation, I might have gotten mad...or hurt. But since you and I both know that I’m quite capable of taking care of my son without anyone’s help—yours included—then there’s no reason for you to question my motives, is there?”
“I, um, just thought you’d want to know,” she repeated. “Good night, Wade.”
She closed the door abruptly in his face.
Wade stood there a moment, staring at that door with angry eyes, half-seriously considering kicking it in and carrying her to the bedroom, where he would make love to her until she had no choice but to tell him she loved him, too. Or better yet, maybe he’d track down everyone who’d ever hurt her, from her long-missing mother to her runaway brother to all the gossips in Honoria, and punch every damned one of them for leaving her so wary and suspicious.
But, instead, he punched his fist into his own hand, then turned, walked to his Jeep and drove away without looking back. Emily had to make her own decisions, he thought. He only hoped the choices she made would finally make her happy.
12
DURING THE NEXT TEN days, Emily didn’t hear from Wade at all. Apparently, he had decided to give her what she’d asked for. Her freedom.
She could leave Honoria any time she wanted to now. Whatever details remained to be settled concerning the sale of the house could easily be handled by long distance or mail. She’d sorted and sifted through all her possessions, deciding what to sell, what to store, and what to have hauled away. She could have everything finished in less than a month, be on her way by Christmas.
Christmas. She couldn’t even imagine spending the holiday without trimming a big tree in her living-room window. Or without arranging her cherished antique Santa Claus figures on the mantel above the fireplace.
But she couldn‘t—wouldn’t—think that way, she told herself firmly. She would think, instead, of all the exotic places she could spend Christmas if she wanted to. The islands, maybe. Christmas in the tropics.
She picked up a creased and tattered travel brochure and studied the photograph on the cover. A couple walking hand in hand on a sandy beach, the sun setting colorfully behind them as waves lapped at their bare toes. She pictured herself walking on that same beach...alone. And suddenly, unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears.
Bad idea. She set the brochure down hastily, blaming her sudden emotionalism on exhaustion.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep during the past week and a half. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d hear Wade’s voice saying, “I love you.” And then the panic would set in, making her heart race, her stomach clench, her skin go clammy.
She had tried to analyze her fears, beginning with her feelings for Wade. Was it really love she felt for him? Or merely physical attraction? Or nothing more than affection, perhaps.
Memories flashed swiftly through her mind. Vivid pictures of Wade with his son. Wade smiling at her. Kissing her. Kneeling frantically beside her as she’d lain on the floor. Making love to her until she’d wept with joy.
Okay, she was in love with him. She couldn’t deny it to herself, even if she never found the courage to admit it to Wade.
She told herself that part of the problem was his son. She wasn’t ready to become responsible for someone else’s child. The stress, the worries, the inevitable conflicts... why would she deliberately take those on?
But she loved that little boy. So much that her heart swelled painfully every time she pictured him running across the bank lobby, his eyes alight with the pleasure of seeing her, his arms open for a hug, his little voice crying out, “Miss Emily! Miss Emily!”
The thought of never seeing that child again hurt almost as badly as the thought of leaving Wade forever.
She remembered her co-workers’ hints that Wade was courting her only because he needed a mother for his son, and she wondered if that was what bothered her so badly. But she couldn’t believe that, either. She’d seen the flare of fury in Wade’s eyes when she’d mentioned what the others had said. The cool pride on his face when he’d reminded her that he could take care of his son very well on his own.
Of course he could. He’d been doing so for years. He didn’t need Emily to become a mother for Clay. But for some reason, he’d convinced himself that he was in love with her.