A Convenient Proposal - By Lynnette Kent Page 0,64
believe Al pushed you like that. Isn’t that dirty fighting?”
“I think it’s mostly called drunk and disorderly.” Griff took a deep breath, drawing in crisp, floral perfume, creamy shampoo, almond lotion and lavender sachets, plus the unique essence of the woman herself. “Let’s go home.”
At the cottage, he insisted on taking Igor for a walk while Arden got ready for bed. “Fresh air cures everything,” he said, when she argued with him.
“Except frostbite,” she retorted.
Griff found himself grinning at her. “I won’t be gone that long.”
When he returned to the bedroom, the lights were already off—not Arden’s usual style. The bed was empty, but a crack of light showed under the bathroom door. Not sure what message he was supposed to be getting, he donned his sweatpants and a T-shirt before climbing between the sheets.
She turned the bathroom light off before opening the door, and crossed the room in darkness. When he reached for her, she didn’t turn away.
“Arden,” he whispered, tracing the contours of her waist, her hips and thighs with his palms. “We don’t have to be so angry.”
“No.” Her lips played with his earlobe. “We don’t.”
Saying “I love you,” though, was simply too hard. Using the words, even in a pitch-dark room, required more pride than he could risk.
And so they spent another wordless night together, connected in every way…except the one that mattered most.
Chapter Thirteen
Arden spent the two weeks before Zelda and Al’s wedding playing her part as Griff’s devoted fiancée—it was, she knew, all she would ever have of him.
They went to church together, to the movies and to the local flea market on Saturday morning. They rode Dorsey and Cowboy on Sunday afternoons. Frequent invitations for dinner with some of his friends and their wives filled their evenings, until they could return to the cottage and spend the dark hours making love. Those nights might have been why Griff was so tired most days at work. Neither of them would have traded sex for sleep.
They were getting along better, on the surface, at least. They could laugh together, and share jokes. Of course, Arden was all too aware of the secrets she continued to keep from him. And despite his efforts, Griff obviously couldn’t forget the secrets she’d revealed. With such distrust between them, Arden sensed she wouldn’t be staying in Georgia much longer.
Her last lunch with the Campbell sisters took place on the Wednesday, before Zelda’s wedding, again at Pirouette. No slippery asphalt marred the occasion—the sun shone and a temperature above sixty degrees allowed them to sit at a table on the terrace.
Arden did her best not to think of this as a farewell luncheon, though she didn’t expect to see any of them in private again. The four of them laughed throughout the meal, and she thought she’d been keeping up appearances quite well.
Once Lauren and Dana had left to return to work, however, Kathy leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her fists. “I’ve been dying to talk to you for days. I’m so glad I finally got the chance.”
Arden had wondered if she would have to account for the way she’d broken down at Kathy’s “decor orgy.” She was surprised when none of the Campbell women had brought up the subject.
And Kathy had evidently moved on. “Since you told us about your hearing loss, I’ve wanted to share some thoughts with you. There are programs that provide assistance for partially or completely deaf kids so they can go to regular public schools. You would make a terrific volunteer—an example of what can be accomplished despite this disability.”
Arden tried to be polite. “Thanks, but—”
“Another idea I had was music appreciation classes for children with partial deafness—you could help them experience the sounds to the extent of their ability, help them physically sense the vibrations, that sort of thing. What do you think?”
Arden thought she might faint, because she couldn’t get a decent breath. As Kathy spoke, some kind of weight seemed to have settled in Arden’s chest, compressing her lungs.
In all the months since she’d first heard the word deaf applied to herself, Arden had tried to distance herself from that fact. She’d arranged her life so she didn’t really need to hear to get along. No one spoke to her, the dog didn’t bark—the world could become totally soundless without affecting her in the least.
Then Griff had arrived, bringing with him relationships and conversation and music, damn him. She’d learned to talk to people, to