Holding the Dream Page 0,127

juices all stirred up so I'm ready to fall onto any handy surface and have incredible sex. He goes to see Kusack, he's been working with Josh behind my back, tries to get all the worry out of my life. He sees to it that I have a closet so that I can just start leaving my clothes over there. Of course, he's bought that house," she continued, pacing. "And those damn dogs that anyone with half a heart would fall for. My car hasn't run better since the day I drove it off the lot. And regularly, so you hardly notice, he brings flowers home."

"Not flowers." Margo pressed a hand to her breast. "Good God, the man is a fiend. He must be stopped."

"Just shut up, Margo. I know you're not on my side. You're never on my side." Certain of Laura's loyalty, Kate dropped down on her knees in front of her, clutched her hands. "He asked me to go with him to Atlanta over Thanksgiving and meet his parents. He says he loves me and wants me to marry him."

"Darling." All sympathy, Laura pressed Kate's hands. "I can see that you've been through an ordeal tonight. Obviously the man is deranged. I'm sure Josh can arrange to have him committed."

Stunned, Kate yanked her hands away. "You have to be on my side," she insisted.

"You want me to feel sorry for you?" The flash of anger in Laura's eyes had Kate blinking.

"No - yes. I - no. I just want you to understand."

"I'll tell you what I understand. You have a man who loves you. A good, considerate, thoughtful man who's willing to share the burdens of living as well as the pleasures with you. Who wants you, who cares enough to make an effort to make you happy, to make your life run a little more smoothly. One who wants you in bed and out. One who cares enough to want you to meet his family because he loves them and wants to show you off to them. And that's not good enough for you?"

"No, I didn't say that. It's just..." She got to her feet, staggered by the heat. "I didn't plan - "

"That's your problem." Laura - small, delicate-boned, and furious - rose as well. "It has to be in tidy order in Kate's plan. Well, life's messy."

"I know. I meant - "

Riding on a fury and frustration she herself hadn't guessed at, Laura barreled over Kate's protest. "And if you don't think yours is adequate, try mine. Try having nothing." And her voice was bitter. "An empty marriage, a man who wanted your name more than you and didn't even pretend otherwise after he had you. Try coming home every night knowing there's not going to be anyone there to hold you, that all the problems that need fixing come to you, that you have no one to lean on. And having your daughter blame you for not being good enough to keep her father under the same roof."

She stalked over to stare at the crackling flames of the fire while her friends watched in silence. "Try feeling unloved, unwanted, and crawling into bed every night wondering how you're going to make it work, how you can possibly make it right again, then come crying to me."

"I'm sorry," Kate murmured. "Laura, I'm so sorry."

"No." Exhausted and ashamed, Laura moved away from Kate's comforting hand and sat again. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from." She leaned her head back against the cushion a moment, her eyes shut as the last of the temper drained away. "Yes, I do. Maybe I'm jealous." She opened her eyes again and managed a smile. "Or maybe I just think you're stupid."

"I should have moved back in here after Peter left," Kate began. "I should have realized how much you were dealing with alone."

"Oh, stop. It's not about me. I'm just a little raw." Laura rubbed her aching temples. "That wasn't the first go-round Ali and I had today. It makes me edgy."

"I can move in now." Kate sat down beside Laura.

"Not that you're not welcome," Laura told her, "but you're not moving in."

"Blocked that escape route," Margo murmured.

"I'm not looking for escape." Kate struggled to get a grip on her tumbling emotions. "I could help with the girls, share the expenses."

"No. This is my life." Laura grimaced. "Such as it is. You have your own. If you don't love Byron, that's one thing. You can't