arms around her. “So am I, because I don’t believe in messing with a married woman, but I sure do like messing with you.” After brushing his mouth across hers, he quietly added, “I missed you.”
She didn’t say anything, but the squeeze of her fingers on his arms was comment enough.
* * *
Commitment. High-security loony bin. Nuts.
The words had made it almost impossible for Macy to breathe. Her first commitment had been voluntary and, for all its apparent openness, the hospital had definitely been high-security. It was the place where wealthy people went to rehab, recuperate and regain their sanity.
But she had not been nuts.
“You’re tense. Have a bad day?” His hands kneaded slowly along her spine, making her groan when they reached her shoulders.
“The day wasn’t so bad. I had trouble sleeping last night.” She’d tried to read, to sing herself to sleep with Clary’s favorite tunes. She’d paced the bedroom until her legs ached. She’d even moved the chair from the door, lifted Clary into her arms and searched the entire house for anything out of place. She’d wound up both physically and emotionally exhausted and had found nothing. Just that damn cologne bottle.
She was not nuts.
“Have you tried a sleeping pill?” Stephen asked, still rubbing knots from stiff muscles.
“I’ve taken them before. After Mark died. They knocked me out. I couldn’t wake up for a few hours, and when I did wake, I was groggy and tired. I also found out I was getting out of bed in the middle of the night and doing things—making coffee, calling people, carrying on entire conversations, even falling—and I couldn’t remember any of it. I couldn’t take care of Clary like that.” Not that she’d been taking care of Clary at the time.
“Clary could spend the night in the guesthouse.”
Adamantly she shook her head.
“I could spend the night here and make sure nothing happened.”
The offer sent sudden heat through her that eased her muscles even more. She raised her head and smiled at him. “Why would I want to be unconscious if you were spending the night?”
For a long time he looked at her with such intensity, such need. She recognized it because it was in her, too, sharp and edgy and restless. She hadn’t felt such complicated need in so long. For months all she’d worried about was gaining and maintaining control over the depression and anxiety that had crippled her, about being home again, being normal again, being a mom again. She hadn’t given much thought to being a woman again.
Timing was everything, and her family’s was exquisite. Just as he started to lean toward her, just as she stretched onto her toes to reach him, the back door flew open to the accompaniment of giggles.
“We’re not looking,” Clary and Anne chanted as they came into the room, though of course they were peeking through the spaces between the fingers covering their eyes.
“We just came for ice cream stuff,” Clary said, pretending to stumble around blindly before crashing into their legs. “Hey, Mama. Hey, Dr. Stephen.”
“Don’t mind us,” Anne instructed. “We’re just borrowing scoops and hot fudge sauce and...did I forget something, Clary?”
“AnAnne! We can’t have ice cream sundaes without ice cream!”
Smiling, Macy put a few steps between her and Stephen. “When you called, we’d just decided we needed ice cream to top off all that barbecue. Okay, ladies, you can open your eyes now.” She gestured to the tray she’d been fixing when Stephen dropped the nuts bomb. “I’ve got scoops, hot fudge, caramel, whipped cream and pecans.”
Both Clary and Anne danced around the kitchen, arms over their heads. “I scream, you scream, we both scream for ice cream. Yay!”
Stephen was laughing at their antics, and Macy couldn’t help but do the same. She adored her daughter’s silliness and her sister-in-law’s ability and willingness to dance and sing along with her. Anne had been such a blessing for their entire family.
As Stephen picked up the tray, Macy took two cartons from the freezer, then they headed for the guesthouse. Clary claimed Stephen’s attention, leaving Macy with Anne, who leaned close. “Do you wish we’d waited five minutes?”
“Nah. Well, maybe.”
Anne’s snort was soft. “If we’d been even two minutes slower, I’d be explaining to your daughter why Dr. Stephen’s tongue was down Mama’s throat and his hands were inside her clothes.”
As they passed the pool, serene and still in the cool night, Macy sighed. “Hmm. I wish you had waited.”
Impulsively Anne reached across and hugged her. “I like