Free Still Waters by Shirlee McCoy Page B

papers when he walked in.”
    There was little doubt who he was. Brian looked up from the magazine he’d been leafing through and caught the tail end of Tom’s withering look.
    “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You didn’t tell me you were cleaning up a mess in there.”
    “You didn’t ask.”
    “Well, you could have volunteered the information. Not that I’m sure I believe you. The fact is—”
    “Tom,” Tiffany cut in, staving off another argument, “I brought a chicken sandwich and some fries for you. They’re on the kitchen counter. Why don’t you go eat? I’ll drive you home as soon as Dr. McMath and I finish talking.”
    Relief smoothed the anger from Tom’s face and he leaped to his feet, half running from the room. Tiffany listened as his footsteps pounded softly on the oak floor of the hallway. Only when the thud of the door announced his entrance into the kitchen did Tiffany turn to Brian.
    With his brown eyes hard and angry, and his mouth set in a grim line, he seemed almost a stranger. His words, when he spoke, were clipped and to the point. “I told you this was a mistake.”
    “I don’t agree.”
    “Tiffany, let’s be realistic for a minute, okay? Tom is trouble.”
    “Tom is diligent, polite and eager to do a good job at the work I’ve given him. I don’t see how that equates to trouble.”
    “Of course you don’t. You’re blinded by your soft heart.”
    Tiffany bristled at the comment but Brian didn’t seem to notice. Placing the magazine on the floor, he stood and began pacing the room. “Look, why don’t you just admit you’re in over your head? Tom was going through your desk, probably looking for something to steal. I saw him with my own eyes.”
    “I believe his explanation.”
    Brian shook his head at Tiffany’s words, pausing his pacing long enough to glare at Bandit who had entered the room and curled up on the throw rug. “You believe anything a person tells you.”
    “I’m getting a little tired of these veiled criticisms, Brian.”
    “I’m not criticizing. I’m warning.”
    “I’m a grown woman. I don’t think your warnings are necessary.”
    “Well, I don’t think the little snit you’ve been in lately is necessary, either.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “This whole idea that you’re breaking up with me. Over what? Being left at the diner?”
    Tiffany felt anger burning bright and hot. “Was I ever the woman of your dreams, Brian?”
    “Dreams? What are you talking about?”
    “Was I the woman of your dreams? When you envisioned a lifetime spent with someone—building a home, having children—was I the one you saw?”
    “Of course. We were talking marriage. Who else wouldI have pictured spending my life with?” Brian stopped pacing and looked at Tiffany, exasperation at her questions obvious in the frown that marred his brow.
    “Maybe because your dream woman is what you think I can be. Not what I am.”
    “I don’t see the difference.”
    “There is one. Which me did you want to spend your life with? The me who is slender, in shape, has perfect hair, perfect nails? The one who never argues and always says the right thing. Or the real me? The one who isn’t perfect and never will be.”
    Brian ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I don’t have time for it right now.”
    “I didn’t think you would.”
    “Look, we’ll talk about it later.” Brian turned and moved toward the door, impatience written in every movement.
    Tiffany swallowed against the lump in her throat and said what she knew she had to. “There isn’t going to be a later.”
    The words stopped him and he turned to face Tiffany again, his eyes reflecting disbelief. “So, you were serious. You really want to end what we have.”
    Tiffany nodded, struggling to hold back tears.
    “Why?”
    “Because we don’t have anything. I’m not sure we ever did. We’re not right for each other, Brian. I’ll never be first in your life