Free Come Home to Me by Brenda Novak Page B

ate sugar these days, was rusty in the kitchen. And once she got the pies out of the oven she was further delayed while deciding what to wear. She’d tried on four different outfits and, for the first time since leaving Whiskey Creek, she even vacillated over her selection of panties, eventually settling on the sheer black bra and thong her friend Roger gave her for her last birthday (while he tried to talk her into “living again”).
    Wearing lingerie was silly, since no one was going to see it. But what was the point of letting such beauty languish in the back of her drawer? Aaron made her feel sexy and young again—even if she couldn’t act on the desire he aroused.
    “No problem. I’ve been busy, anyway.” He gestured at the work he’d done. “What do you think?”
    She’d been rehearsing what she planned to say, had been so focused on it that she hadn’t looked at what he’d accomplished in her absence. But now that he’d drawn her attention to the walls, she was so impressed she couldn’t possibly start in on her “I forgive you, you didn’t owe me anything” speech. Not immediately.
    “It’s beautiful! ” she breathed, and meant it. She’d picked out a buttery yellow, one that reminded her of the sun. She’d wanted her studio to be uplifting and soothing, since both of her businesses dealt with stress relief. But he’d added a new element. The walls were the yellow she’d requested, but he’d painted the trim black—the baseboards, the doorframes and the window casings. It looked so stylish she almost couldn’t believe this was the same drab space she’d rented.
    “I knew it would be nice,” he said, standing back to survey the effect.
    She left the stroller in the middle of the room and moved closer to the wet paint. “Someone told you it wouldn’t?”
    “Harvey down at the hardware store was pushing me to call you. He thought you should go with white trim, until I showed him the picture.”
    “What picture?”
    “The one I found in a magazine while I was waiting for him to help me.”
    “What magazine? Martha Stewart Living? ”
    “A Ralph Lauren paint brochure.”
    She pivoted to face him. “You bought designer paint? But...there’s no way I gave you enough money for that.”
    “It came close,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not worried about the difference. I wanted it to make a statement, and it does.”
    “I would’ve been happy with something much simpler. You’re already donating the labor. Why go to the added expense?”
    He held her gaze. “It’s my way of telling you I’m sorry, Presley.”
    So she’d guessed right. Apparently, she knew him as well as she thought she did, and since he’d brought up the subject himself, she no longer had to search for a way to approach it. “I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Aaron. How could I? You never made me any promises.”
    “But the last night I saw you...”
    “Don’t mention that night.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think of it.”
    His expression grew even more sympathetic. “It was that bad?”
    The days she’d spent with the man who’d provided her with drugs in Arizona were mostly a blur, and she was grateful for that. She could hardly believe she’d been through the degradation she did remember. “It’s over. There’s no reason to dwell on it.”
    “I feel like it’s my fault.”
    “Because you didn’t love me? You can’t make yourself love someone.”
    Lines formed on his forehead. “It’s not as if I didn’t care about you. And your mother had just died....”
    “That was my problem, not yours.” But she was lucky she’d survived those first few days after leaving Whiskey Creek, lucky that what she’d done hadn’t damaged Wyatt. Only after she’d decided to keep him had she found the will to fight for a better life, to look after herself for his sake. Without him, she might never have changed.
    “Maybe if I’d reacted differently, you wouldn’t have