Daddy’s Girls by Danielle Steel Page 0,100

minute as he thought about it. “Would that be too weird?”

“What difference does it make? We’re still married, and you just drove twelve hours to bring my children home safely. You’re so tired you’ll fall asleep on the bridge.”

“You don’t mind?” He was stunned by the invitation. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“Actually, you can’t.” She laughed. “I decided to redo that too, or at least get a new bed. They took the old one, and the new one isn’t here yet. We can sleep in the same bed, it won’t kill us.”

“What will the kids think?”

“I don’t know. You’re tired, it’s late, the weather’s awful, you’ve been driving all day. Do we need their permission?” He smiled at her answer.

“No. Only yours,” he said gently.

“You have it. I don’t mind letting you sleep here. It’s a big bed. I got the next size up.” He agreed to stay then, and poured them each another glass of wine, since he didn’t have to drive.

“Happy New Year, Caro. I can think of more glamorous ways to spend it, but I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

“Me too,” she said simply.

He built a fire as he always did, and they sat in front of it talking quietly. The children were in their rooms, and when she checked, they were both asleep on their beds at eleven. She went back to the living room and they sat watching the fire and talking.

They waited until midnight and he wished her a happy new year and kissed her on the cheek. And then they turned out the lights and went to her bedroom. She opened the bed on both sides, and let him use the bathroom first, and he came out in boxers and T-shirt. Then she went in, and came out in an old warm nightgown, and climbed into her side of the bed, keeping her distance. He lay on his side looking stiff and awkward.

“It feels strange being back here,” he admitted.

“Yeah,” she agreed, turned off the light, and they lay there stiffly in silence, remembering better days.

He didn’t know how it happened and she wasn’t sure either, but he reached out silently to her in the dark, and pulled her into his arms, and kissed her, properly on the mouth, the way he had wanted to all night, and for months, instead of little pecks on the cheek. All his longing for her came at him in a rush, and engulfed them both. She thought she was over him, but she wasn’t. He had unlocked something in her again and she wanted him desperately. They were ravenous for each other and found each other easily. He was inside her where he wanted to be in seconds and she couldn’t get enough of him. They couldn’t stop and didn’t want to, and their lovemaking was so intense and so good it was almost painful. They couldn’t stop or slow down until it was over, and when they stopped, she knew that she had forgiven him. There was no room for Veronica Ashton in their life anymore. She had lived with them long enough. She was gone.

“Are you sorry?” he whispered afterward, terrified she’d be furious and make him leave.

“No, I just love you,” she said, and he pulled her tighter again, and lay glued to her, holding her.

“What’ll we tell the kids?” he asked, worried.

“Just that. That we love each other.” She was calm and happy and felt as though she had come home when he did.

“Do you want me to leave before they wake up?” He wanted to respect her boundaries, whatever they were. He didn’t want to lose her again. It had been the worst six months of his life.

“No, I want to make love to you again,” she whispered back, and he laughed in the dark.

“Thank God I drove home from Tahoe,” he said, and she knew how true that was. She’d been planning to call the lawyer and file for divorce on Monday, and now she was falling in love with him all over again. If he hadn’t driven home, she wouldn’t have slept with him, and this would never have happened. There was no telling about timing, or destiny. No predicting the heartbreaks, or if hearts could be mended. All she knew was that she still loved him. She had her answer. It had taken her six months to figure it out. And now she had.

Chapter 17

Peter moved back in the weekend after New Year’s. The

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