fall and winter months, so that they could enjoy the city’s various cultural events. But her memories of those days and nights were now bittersweet.
There would be no going back to the life they’d once had together. Sean had made sure she understood that, and she did. She could mourn the past and the loss of his love all she wanted, but it would gain her nothing in the end.
So she would look to the future, instead, where another kind of life awaited her, and another kind of love would fill the painful emptiness that now made her heart ache.
On her own in the guest room with the door politely shut, Charlotte called to arrange for a substitute to take over for her at the high school the next day. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then turned back the serviceable navy-blue-and-white striped comforter on the bed, slipped beneath the blankets and switched off the lamp on the nightstand.
She could still hear the rain tapping against the window- panes, but more gently as the worst of the storm finally seemed to be over. The steady patter should have lulled her to sleep in short order. She was tired enough to want as well as to need the rest. But her mind still raced along too busily to shut down on her command.
Her own fault, she admitted, remembering how eagerly she had welcomed the mug of coffee Sean had set before her. Revved up by such a hearty dose of caffeine so late in the evening, she would likely toss and turn until dawn. That, in turn, would leave her at a distinct disadvantage when it was time for her to face her husband once again.
With a quiet sigh, Charlotte sat up in the bed and pushed aside the blankets. There was only one antidote she could think of for sleeplessness—a glass of warm milk dosed with a small shot of whiskey. She didn’t want to go downstairs again, especially if Sean was still in the kitchen. But suffering through a restless night would be much worse.
Still debating her alternatives, she switched on the lamp, then cocked her head to one side and looked up at the ceiling. From above came the muted sound of measured footsteps punctuated by a squeak or two as Sean walked across the floor. A few moments later, the pipes gurgled with running water and Charlotte made her decision.
She could run down to the kitchen, heat up some milk in the microwave oven, dose it with whiskey and be back in the guest room in a matter of minutes, all without Sean being any the wiser.
Feeling like a thief in the night despite her equal right to make herself at home in the town house, Charlotte crept down the hallway to the staircase. Ten minutes, at the most, and she’d be back in her bed, door shut, laughing at herself for being so apprehensive.
What was the worst that could happen to her, anyway— getting caught by her husband of ten years with the milk jug in one hand and the whiskey bottle in the other?
She made it to the kitchen without a problem, prepared her nightcap and was halfway across the living room, mug in hand, when she realized that she’d much rather sip her spiked milk curled up on one of the upholstered wing chairs tucked between the front windows.
The house was peacefully quiet, the darkness of the room broken only by the pale glow of gaslight coming through the slats of the wooden shutters. The intimate ambience suited her mood so much better than that of the sterile, unfamiliar guest room.
Soothed by the hot drink, Charlotte thought back over her conversation with Sean and the angry words they’d exchanged. He had been right when he’d said rehashing the past was a waste of time, as she’d acknowledged then. Still, she couldn’t help dwelling on some of the harsher accusations he’d made. Not only had they been very revealing; they had also held more validity than she liked to admit.
She hadn’t realized at the time that she’d been so hard to live with all those months she’d been trying to get pregnant. With Sean’s comments fresh in her mind, however, she could look back now and understand how problematic her self-involvement must have been for him.
She had always been successful at everything she’d ever attempted to do. But she had consistently failed at the one thing she’d always been meant to do. So caught up in her own misery had she been that she’d stopped being the fun- loving, affectionate, desirous and desirable wife, best friend and playmate Sean had loved. Instead she had become an intense, emotional, unhappy woman with a mission, not to be diverted in any way, shape or form.
But she had thought that Sean wanted a child as much as she did. She had been so driven, so demanding of herself and of him, because she’d assumed they had the same goal in mind.
If only Sean had said something sooner about how he really felt. If only he hadn’t just packed up and left her…
The tears that had threatened earlier began to trickle down Charlotte’s cheeks as she thought of all the mistakes she’d unknowingly made, and how fatal those mistakes had been to her marriage.
She had been so sure that all she needed was a child to make her life complete. Now she realized, much too late, that her quest had cost her the one thing she would have never willingly given up in exchange—the man she loved with all her heart and soul.
Chapter Four
Never lay out the terms of a business deal unless you’re absolutely sure that you can, and will, follow through with them yourself….
That simple piece of advice, given to him by his father over a dozen years ago, echoed in Sean’s mind as he paced from one end of the master suite to the other. With only one lamp lit on the bedside table, the corners of the familiar room were bathed in dark, not altogether welcoming shadows that suited his mood much more than he would have liked.
Climbing the staircase to the third floor of the town house, he had thought that he would be asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. By the time he’d changed into a pair of fleece pants and a waffle-knit, long-sleeved T-shirt, brushed his teeth and turned back the bedcovers, though, an odd, unforeseen sense of restlessness had settled over him.
First and foremost, Sean couldn’t help but be distracted by the fact that after six long months, Charlotte was tucked into bed within incredibly easy reach, mere moments away.
If he so desired, he could go to her in the guest room, slip into the bed beside her, take her in his arms, kiss her and caress her. He could make love to her as he once had, and as he’d dreamed of doing more nights than he cared to count over the past half year.
And, oh, how he wanted to do that, as his turgid state now reminded him.
But along with his near desperate yearning to make love to his wife had come all the reasons why there could be no satisfying of his baser instincts that night, or any night for as long as he could imagine into the future. Reasons that began and ended with the terms he’d offered Charlotte in exchange for helping her go forward with the adoption of the child she wanted—apparently more than she wanted him.
She had taken no offense at all when he’d said that he would be filing for divorce after the adoption was final. Possibly she’d been a little surprised, perhaps even a little hurt, but only momentarily. With a measure of serenity and pragmatism that had left him surprised and hurt, she had offered agreement and understanding instead of the demurral that he’d fully anticipated.
Sean wasn’t sure why he’d tossed out the fillip of divorce, but the moment he’d spoken the words aloud, he’d been sorry. He didn’t want to end his marriage to Charlotte. He just wanted her to honor his wishes about having, or more precisely
