his words carefully. “I just don’t think it’s as easy for you to let go. Maybe it’s because you were Marc’s first wife. Or it could be because you were married to him the longest. But then, it might be your age.”
Tristan swallowed, realizing he’d just made a mistake when he saw the narrowing of Danielle’s eyes and the stiffening of her spine. “What about my age, Tris?”
Looking into her scowling face, he knew he had to smooth things over or get a cold shoulder the rest of the day. “What I mean, Dani, is that you’re a lot more mature than Alexandra and Renée. That’s not a bad thing. You’ve been where they have yet to go. What they are experiencing now is—”
“Men!”
He lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Men,” she said, as if with distaste. “Alex and Renée have a man in their lives. I’m not involved with anyone so I have a lot more personal time on my hands.”
Tristan took a minute to fully absorb what she had said. “And why do you think that is, Dani? Other than Marc, I’ve never known you to become involved with anyone, at least not seriously.”
“Yeah, and look where my involvement with Marc got me. The man was a con artist extraordinaire. He caught me at a vulnerable time and swept me off my feet. The next thing I knew I was in Atlanta getting married.”
“Because you thought you loved him?” he asked quietly, wondering what her answer would be. During the past five years there were times he actually thought she loved Marc, and then there were times he’d been filled with doubt.
She seemed to think deeply about his question and then she said, “No, because at that time I thought he loved me. I wanted someone to love me. I was hurt. I felt alone. And then Marc appeared and seemed capable of making me feel whole. Not special but whole. There is a difference.”
He leaned back on the sofa. “And what’s the difference?”
She leaned back with him. “I felt special as a model. I was used to getting all kinds of attention, even when I didn’t want it. But Marc made me see the importance of moving on after losing Paul, and he was there to help me get beyond my grief.”
Tristan didn’t say anything for a while. Marc had done for her what he should have done. He, Tristan, had let her down and in the interim left the door wide open for another man to walk in and have her. A part of him would never forgive himself for doing that. For five years he had to endure the pain of knowing the woman he loved had married someone else.
“Why did you stay with him if you didn’t love him?” he finally asked.
She curled up by his side. He knew that to her it was a natural thing to do, no big deal. She had no way of knowing how her closeness was making his heart leap in his chest. “You of all people know how things were between me and Marc, Tris. I confided to you about it. We hadn’t been married a year when I noticed he was taking more and more trips out of town and was becoming distant. There were blocks of time—and I mean huge blocks—when we didn’t even share a bed when he was home. And when he was away he seldom called, claiming his business was keeping him extremely busy.”
She paused for a moment, then continued, “I never told you this part, but I even threatened him with a divorce if he didn’t get his act together. I was beginning to feel like we were married in name only. Hell, I was spending more time over here with you than at my house, because he was never there. When Hurricane Frances swept through here a few years ago, I was stranded with you the entire time while Marc was somewhere else.”
Tristan nodded, remembering the time. They had been stuck here without any electrical power while her husband had been no telling where and with whom.
“You said you had threatened him with divorce. What happened to make you change your mind?”
She met his gaze. “A baby,” she said softly. “He promised me a baby.”
Tristan didn’t say anything. All he could do was remember the day she found out that the one thing Marc had promised her had been the one thing he couldn’t deliver. A case of the mumps in his teens had left him incapable of fathering a child. She had taken the news hard.
She turned to Tristan now, took hold of his hand as he had done hers so many times when they talked. She met his gaze. “You know how much I wanted a child. The last time Marc and I were together, I mean really together, was around eight months before he died. That night Marc promised that he would slow down his travels and take time to start the family he knew I wanted.”
He felt her tighten her hold on his hand, and he squeezed back. “And you know what hurts, Tris? What really hurts?”
“No, what really hurts, Dani?”
He met her gaze and wished he hadn’t. There were tears there, big tears, and he felt his heart stop. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, hold her and whisper how much he loved her and tell her that from now on he would not let anything or anyone hurt her again. But at this moment, she didn’t need to hear what he had to say. She needed for him to listen.
“What really hurts, Tris, is knowing Marc never intended to keep that promise. He lied about that like he’d lied about so many other things.”
And then she broke down and began crying in earnest, and he reached out and pulled her into his arms. He held her and told her not to cry, that things would work out fine, and that one day she would get the baby she wanted. The family she desired.
An inner part of Tristan broke, as well. The tears Danielle had refused to shed earlier were pouring like torrential rain. He could actually feel her pain.
And he knew at that moment that he would be the one to fulfill the promise Marc had broken, the one her dead husband had never intended to keep, the one that kept tearing her up inside. He would become her husband one day and give her the love and respect she deserved. He would cherish her, protect her.
She didn’t know it yet, but one day she would.
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