For the Girls' Sake - By Janice Kay Johnson Page 0,72
breeze and the fog that rolled in off the ocean on hot days. Let me count the ways! she thought. The crunch and slide of walking on the gravelly beach and the shoot of spray through the blowhole. The vendors along the boardwalk, the tourists and even the traffic on the brick streets. To her mental list she hastened to add her garden, and her new refrigerator and her rickety back steps she would decorate with potted geraniums come summer.
This was home, the first and only home she’d ever made for herself. But today was...she mentally ticked off days on her fingers...the tenth of February. Always, by the middle of April, she had gone back to her summer schedule, having the store open Tuesday through Sunday. Just over two months away.
That would mean two more days a week when she had to be here, and Adam had to be in Portland. Could she afford to hire someone to cover at least one day? Would she and Adam split the girls up? Or alternate who got to keep them? After only two weeks, she’d become accustomed to sleeping with him: to being able to tuck her cold feet beneath his calf, to the sound of him breathing beside her at night, to that exhilarating glint in his eyes when he wanted her.
Before Adam and Rose, she had loved her life here. Shelly and the bookstore were enough. Now they weren’t. It was that simple.
Soon, she told herself, she had to start looking for a buyer.
Lynn wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t told Adam about her plans. Some residual caution held her back. Be sure, her fearful inner self whispered.
But she was sure. Not that he would ever love her, but that she did love him. And both her daughters. She was spread too thin. She had a family now, a real family, and they had to come first.
She would definitely look for a buyer. But when Adam wrapped an arm around her and steered her away from the breaking surf and toward the stairs that led up to the boardwalk and the town, she didn’t say, "Adam, I have something to tell you."
He was the one to speak instead, calling to the girls, "Come on, munchkins. We need to get you cleaned up, so we can head out for Portland. Daddy’s got to go to work tomorrow."
As usual, they had to take two cars, one of the drawbacks of their commuter marriage. Today, the girls rode with him. She followed his Lexus all the way to Portland. When he got too far ahead, he slowed; when she missed a light, he waited on the shoulder of the road. She pulled into his driveway right behind him and helped him unbuckle the girls from their car seats and carry them, both sound asleep, into the house that was now her home, too.
Although the subject had been on her mind, she still didn’t tell him while they put together a quick dinner and ate it, or even later when, without a second thought, she passed the bedroom that had once been hers and joined Adam in his spare, masculine bedroom dominated by a king-size bed.
In the master bathroom, she brushed her teeth at her own sink—this bathroom alone was bigger than her kitchen above the bookstore—and slipped on her nightgown. She came out to find Adam waiting, wearing only pajama bottoms. He drew her into his arms for a tender kiss that quickly became more intense.
He held her close, stroking her back. "When the girls are grown—" he ran a hand through her hair, his low voice husky "—we’ll sleep in every day. Let’s make a pact."
A thrill swelled in her chest, out of proportion to his idle words. He must be happy with her, or he wouldn’t be thinking about such a distant future. Would he? Was it possible that he was starting to feel something special, too?
Lynn couldn’t have spoken to save her life. She only sighed and let her head fall back as he massaged her neck.
Why couldn’t he love her? she asked a nameless somebody, in hope and defiance. Was it so impossible? Was she unlovable?
"I’m so glad you’re here." He smiled, light shining in his eyes.
Foolish words trembled on her tongue, but she swallowed them. She could not tell him. She couldn’t ruin everything.
"I’m all yours," she whispered instead, and hoped he didn’t know how completely that was true.