with the kittens and how far you went to make me feel comfortable with your family. And suddenly—” She stopped, feeling heat fill her face. But she owed him an explanation—and an apology. “Suddenly you were there, and I was being pulled in, caught up in emotions I couldn’t understand or trust. I couldn’t stay aloof or in control around you. So I chose not to call or have any contact. That was my decision, and it was very badly done. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Noah said tightly. “You were protecting yourself in the only way you could. You were being practical.”
“I wish it were that simple,” Grace said. “I should have explained and then trusted you to understand. I took the cowardly way out.”
Some of the wariness left his eyes. “Yes, you should have trusted me. Because I do understand.” His eyes darkened. “And I suppose if I ask you to go for a walk, you’ll say no.”
She didn’t want to say no.
Surely she could handle a few minutes in his company without coming unglued. “I’d say yes, actually.” She hesitated, then slid her arm through his. “And you can tell me about the cats. I miss them.” She took a breath. “After that you can explain what really happened to your face. I don’t believe your story for a second.”
THEY WALKED FOR FIFTEEN minutes, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. At first Grace felt uncomfortable and self-conscious, but slowly the silences grew more comfortable, like the kind between old friends. Feeling comfortable like this didn’t make sense.
But maybe not everything had to make sense.
“So I want to know all the details about the little guys. Are they healthy? Growing a lot?”
“My mother has been giving them a special mix of broth and egg yolks. She swears it will help them grow. All I know is it smells nauseating. Then yesterday my father took Ivan the Terrible for a short walk on the back patio.” He gave a dry laugh. “Don’t worry. It was only for a few minutes, just enough to give the little guy a chance to work on his muscles. He’s the most uncoordinated animal I’ve ever seen.”
As they walked it began to snow lightly. Grace watched car lights glow red in the twilight as commuters headed home or out to dinner or to the ballet and opera. It was all so different from the quiet harbor community where she’d grown up in Oregon. Back on Summer Island there were no secrets, no blessed anonymity. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.
She had been thrilled to escape to culinary school in New York and then head on to the Cordon Bleu in Paris. The world had called to her and her year of study at the Sorbonne had been heaven. When work brought her here to Washington, she found the same kind of anonymity, and she had felt right at home.
Except lately her trust level was at rock bottom. Since learning about James, she questioned every statement and every motive, her own as well as everyone else’s. She searched for odd nuances and tallied up whatever didn’t make sense.
That kind of negativity drained you fast, she had discovered. It left you only half alive.
As she studied the hard angles of Noah’s face captured in the light of passing cars, Grace realized that right now at this moment, one place felt safe. Noah had a knack for paying complete attention to those around him. When you talked, he listened as if no one else existed or mattered. It was a novel and very heady experience, she discovered.
Not that it changed anything. Tonight was a pleasant adventure, nothing more.
“You want to talk about him?” Noah was watching her, his eyes grave.
“Him?”
“Your fiancé. You were thinking about him just now, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but how did you—”
“Your eyes. You looked like someone had kicked you in the chest and you were choking,” Noah said roughly.
Had he really seen all that in her face? If so, was her pain so visible to everyone around her?
Grace felt a wave of nausea. The truth was that all of James’s friends had known what he was doing. Only she had been blind to the scattered signs. They were apart for weeks while he was working, so it had been easy to miss the other demands on his time and emotions.
But over the long months Grace had stopped hating him. She had even stopped hating herself for missing the signs until he was dead. And now she was moving forward. She wasn’t going to let bad memories destroy her trust and hope. She wanted her life back.
She took a shaky breath, trying to smile. “That easy to read, am I?”
“Maybe not by others. But you’re doing it again,” Noah said quietly. “That struggle to breathe. The tension in your hands. Talk to me, Grace.”
Memories of loss made her throat tighten. She hadn’t talked about the dark details with anyone, not even her closest friends. Definitely not with her grandfather, who would have been horrified by James’s behavior. “I—I can’t.”
“Talking will help.”
“What does it matter? He’s gone. All the damage is done.” She felt tears burn suddenly. “Before he died he slept with half of my friends. Maybe all of them. What did I know?”
“The fool,” Noah’s voice was hard. “The cold-blooded idiot.” A muscle clenched at his jaw. “A man would have to be blind—and very sick to hurt you that way. He hurt himself, too, even if he couldn’t see it.” He took her hand, helping her climb over a mound of snow at the edge of a driveway. They walked for a while, neither speaking. “So how did you find out?” Noah finally asked.
“The first clue? I was going through some of his old clothes after he passed away, and I found a letter in the pocket. There was no stamp. He was always a little forgetful that way.” Grace stared down the street, reliving that moment of her searing disbelief. “I was certain it was a mistake, so certain that some friend of his had given him the letter to drop off. Just a favor, right? Then a mutual friend, who happened to be the woman he’d written the love letter to, called me in Paris.” Grace had to stop and concentrate on the words. “She was devastated. She let it slip that he had been with her the day before the crash. He had visited her at least once a month. She said she was … pregnant. She hadn’t told him yet.” Grace blew out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t console her. I should have, but I couldn’t say a word of sympathy. I was still sure it was a mistake.” The street blurred suddenly. “It had to be some other James. Not my James. It just wasn’t possible.” Grace stumbled. Dimly, she felt Noah’s hand grip her waist. “Not the man I was going to marry as soon as his humanitarian missions in the Sudan were done.”
The bitterness rose and tried to take control, but she fought it back. It was getting easier every day. She was finally starting to move on.
If she could just let the memories go.
She rubbed her neck and glanced at Noah. His hand was still on her waist, offering silent support. “So there it is, the whole sad cliché.”
“You’re no cliché. And you’ll get through this.”
“I’m working on it, believe me.” She stood taller, feeling the cold wind bite against
