Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,34

he tell me himself?”

“I don’t think he wants to acknowledge the possibilities. He’s acting as though it’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious!”

The telephone rang, and April crossed the room to answer it, hoping the disruption would give her mother a few minutes to cope with the news. “Hello?”

“April?” It was Gunner.

“Hi.” She smiled automatically, grateful that they still had four more days in Cabo. She wished it was an eternity.

“You going down to dinner?”

“Um…” She glanced at her mother, who hadn’t yet dropped her hand from her mouth. “Not quite. I might be late, actually.”

“That’s fine. I won’t be there, anyway.”

Disappointment made April slouch onto the bed. “Why not?”

“I have to take care of something. I just wanted to tell you to bring all your change to my room later.”

An invitation. That was hopeful. But one look at Claire told April that her mother was still terribly upset. “Hang on.” She set the phone down and walked over to Claire. “Mom, are you okay?”

Her mother nodded stoically. “I’m fine. Go ahead and talk to Gunner,” she said, and resumed getting ready.

April watched her for a few seconds, wondering what she was thinking—and feeling. But she didn’t want to keep Gunner waiting too long.

Telling herself she’d speak with her mother later, she returned to the phone. “Why do I need to bring change?” she asked. “Are we going to play poker again?”

“Yes.”

The prospect of spending more time with Gunner, especially late at night and alone in his room, was enough to make her pulse race. She loved being with him, loved the way he smiled and teased her, loved the appreciation she’d seen in his eyes when she came around that corner and got into his Jacuzzi. She loved…

April’s breath stuck in her throat. She loved…him. But how could she have let this happen when she knew she was heading for certain disaster?

“I thought you’d lost your nerve about playing with me,” she said numbly, trying to keep up her end of the conversation.

“I’m feeling lucky,” he said. “And April?”

“What?”

“Tonight, winner takes all.”

She wanted to ask what he meant by that—or at least tell him not to buy any more pork rinds—but he hung up.

CLAIRE STARED AT HER HUSBAND across the now-empty dinner table. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly.

Walt’s gaze followed the waiters and busboys hurrying around the restaurant, clearing away the dishes. Most of the Ashton Automotive group had already left for the hotel. “Tell you what?”

“About the operation.”

Finally meeting her eyes, he sighed. “April mentioned it?”

She nodded.

“I was afraid of that.”

“Why should this be a secret from me?” Claire demanded.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry. We were having such a good time here.”

A good time. Suddenly a good time didn’t seem to matter so much. Suddenly a good time seemed terribly fleeting. What if Walt didn’t make it through the operation? What if he had a heart attack and died before the doctors even had a chance? Tonight…or tomorrow…or next week?

Fear constricted Claire’s heart. She’d been enjoying Walt here in Cabo, but she hadn’t truly committed herself to forgiving him. Just when she’d decided to let him go, he’d come back…. No matter how wonderful it felt to be with him again, whenever she thought of Regina, anger and jealousy and the memory of the terrible hurt she’d suffered overwhelmed her, making her want to punish them both.

Only now, all of that seemed so petty. They were talking about life and death. They were talking about the possibility of losing Walt altogether—not to some silly fear of growing old or a floozy massage therapist who took advantage of his confusion. To death. And with death there was no winning him back.

“What are you thinking?” he asked when she remained silent.

Claire realized in a new and certain way how selfish it was to continue holding a grudge. Walt might have made some very serious mistakes and hurt her deeply, but he was sincerely sorry, and he wanted her back. That was what mattered, wasn’t it? Somehow she’d deal with the rest. “That you’re going to get through it,” she said, forcing a confident smile for his benefit. “And I’ll stand by you every minute.”

Tears filled his eyes for the first time since she’d married him, and he reached for her hand. “How can you do it?” he asked. “How can you forgive me so easily?”

She felt his callused fingers close over hers as they had so many times before and a warm sensation flooded through her. “Because I’m