straight in.” I winced as I said those words. I should have told him he’d be better to stop in Gary, Indiana for the day. Better yet, he should have turned around and headed back to Grand Rapids.
The kitchen door swung open behind me, nearly flattening me to the wall. Max strolled in and stretched his arms over his head. His shoulders popped and he groaned loudly. “You know what’s just as good as sex? Ice cream. Nah, that’s a lie. I’d rather have had sex.”
I covered the mouthpiece, but it was too late.
“Is Max having trouble getting reacquainted with the city?” Nathan asked, amused.
“I think I’m cramping his style.”
On the other end of the line I heard muffled talking. You’re on the phone to me, your fledgling, your blood, and you can’t wait a few seconds before you talk to her?
Without being able to stop it, my annoyance filtered over the blood tie. Nathan got it, and I felt his relief at our renewed connection. “You’re right, that’s rude of me. Listen, I’m going to let you go. I can explain everything when we get there.”
We. It was like he used the word as a weapon against me. “Fine. We will be here.”
He hesitated. “Okay…well, goodbye, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. It was all I could take. I hung up the phone and crumpled to the floor.
Max knelt at my side before I could draw two sobbing breaths. “Carrie? Are you okay?”
I couldn’t speak. I could only cry against his shoulder.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?” He sounded as alarmed as any man faced with a woman’s tears. It must have been doubly distressing, considering what we’d almost done in his foyer. “Is it me? Was it something I did?”
Shaking my head, I wiped my nose on the back of my hand, but I couldn’t control my sobbing enough to make an intelligent sound.
Max pulled me tighter to his side, as if trying to absorb my suffering through his skin. “You’re really freaking me out. What’s the matter? Is it Nathan?”
It most definitely was Nathan. Anger roared to life in me, drying my tears. Nathan and Bella were coming here. I’d come here to get away from Nathan and clear my head, and he was bringing more pain my way? He was like the opposite of an ambulance; he brought portable disaster.
“That was him,” I muttered. “He’s coming down here with Bella.”
“Bella?” Max frowned. “I thought she was going back to Spain, like, a month ago.”
I gave him a minute. Max was a smart guy. I was confident he would figure it out.
He wasn’t as quick to believe as I had been, but the comprehension slowly crept over his face. “No. No way.”
I nodded vehemently. “When I called the apartment this evening she answered the phone.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything.” He was assuring himself as much as me. “Maybe something came up, she got reassigned. It happens all the time.”
“She hasn’t been using my room.” I was half-glad. I couldn’t imagine going back there if she’d usurped my boyfriend—no, my sire; I’d have to get used to the difference—and my bed.
Max nodded. “Well, I’m sorry he hurt you.”
Fresh tears filled my eyes at the ragged pain in his voice. “I’m sorry she hurt you.”
“For the last time, she didn’t hurt me! I don’t give a shit about her!” He stood and stormed angrily through the door.
Numb and cold on the kitchen floor, I stared at the container of ice cream Max had left on the counter.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, watching condensation form on the cardboard. It was leaving trails and pooling around the softening bottom when I finally moved.
I had to pull myself together. It was bad enough I would have to face Nathan knowing he’d chosen Bella over me. I didn’t have to let him know how destroyed I was.
I headed downstairs to my bedroom. In the bathroom, I flipped the shower on, as scalding as I could make it, and stood under it until the water turned frigid and the steam dissipated. Outside, the sun would no doubt be coming up. They would be here any minute.
No sooner had I thought it than there was a soft knock at the door. “Carrie?”
Max peeked around it, eyes modestly shielded, and threw me a towel. “They’re here.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right up.”
“Okay.” He stepped out, then came back. “He looks like hell, Carrie.”
“Good.”
I meant it. Nathan had played me the entire time I’d known him, refusing to get into any kind of relationship with me, but oh, he could have sex with me. That was okay. I could live in the same house with him. He could beg me not to leave him, and tell me constantly how destroyed he would be if I did. But he wouldn’t give up the memory of his dead wife for me.
But he would for Bella. She possessed some magic key, some ingredient I didn’t have, that changed his mind and made him want to be in a relationship with someone.
In a relationship with her.
I dressed, not bothering to try and look good. It would be transparent if I spent another half hour blow drying my hair and putting on makeup.
At the top of the stairs I found Nathan and Bella sitting at opposite ends of the couch. Though I registered their distance, it wasn’t enough to stop my knees from going all watery.
Once we’re turned, vampires never age. Nathan had remained frozen in time at thirty-two years old. A very fit, very attractive thirty-two. Once, I’d jokingly mentioned he must have had a pretty tough exercise regimen in life to get such great arms. He’d chuckled and said, “No, it was from carrying Marianne. She couldn’t walk, toward the end.” His gray eyes had shone with sadness for a moment, then just as quickly changed back.
Now, his gaze snapped to me and he lifted his dark head as I ascended the last few steps.
Max turned as I came fully into the room, and he winked at me encouragingly.
Nathan rose as if expecting, I don’t know—a hug? For me to leap into his arms?
Whatever it was, it wasn’t something I wanted to give him. I waved him aside and flopped into the armchair near the kitchen door. “No need to get up on my account.”
His fingers clenched and worried against each other before he sat down again.
Bella looked from him to me, her eyes slightly narrowed and her mouth quirked in an amused smile, but she said nothing.
“Now that you’re both here, I guess I can break the bad news.” Nathan leaned forward
