When pain darkened his eyes and he closed them, she rolled away. She lay on her back, stared with burning eyes at the ceiling, then got up and went into the bathroom.
While Nate had breakfast with his family in the hotel restaurant, she left the hotel and walked the sidewalk sightlessly. After a couple of blocks, she realized she was in front of a small coffee shop, so she went in and ordered coffee and a muffin. She sat in the front window, the morning sun warming her chilled body. She didn’t taste the coffee as she sipped it, ignored the muffin.
Was it possible to love two men?
She crumbled the muffin as she pulled it in half, then stared out the window blindly. She was married. Her marriage wasn’t perfect, but she loved her husband. She had to love her husband. But now Nate had entered their lives—no, more than that. He’d entered her heart.
And her world had transfigured into a bewildering tangle she couldn’t begin to unsnarl.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nate and Derek sat on the deck that evening while Krissa worked on dinner in the kitchen. Nate itched to be inside with her, helping her, laughing with her, debating over whether to steam or roast the vegetables, reliving the excitement of the show the evening before.
“So,” Derek said. “This is great that your eyes are better. You’re probably dying to get back to your photography.”
“Yeah.” Except…he wasn’t.
On the drive home that afternoon, he’d been amazed to realize that he didn’t need the sunglasses. He wore them anyway, because it was California and it was sunny, but he could take them off and only feel a minor prickle. He should have been ecstatic. He was happy. All along, that’s all he’d wanted. He’d been demolished to think he may never be able to take photographs again.
Yeah, it was a huge fucking relief to know that his eyes were going to be okay. They still weren’t a hundred percent but they were a helluva lot better. And yet—the idea of leaving again was about as appealing as having open-heart surgery.
“We need to check into the sperm donor thing,” Derek said. “See if you can still do that. Just in case.”
Nate gave a crooked smile. “Yeah. Just in case. Just in case I’m shooting blanks, too. Who knows?”
“You know you aren’t,” Derek said. “You got Lauren pregnant.”
Nate opened his mouth to reply. He paused with his coffee mug half way to his mouth.
Everything slowed…faded away…stopped.
He stared at Derek. What the fuck?
“What did you say?”
Derek turned his face back from gazing out at the ocean and met Nate’s eyes. Nate could actually see the horrified realization sliding over him—his eyes widen, then narrow, his mouth open, then close.
“Uh…”
Nate rose slowly to his feet. “How the hell would you know Lauren was pregnant?”
“You…uh…told me.”
Nate shook his head. “No. We hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t tell anybody. Except the man she was screwing around with.”
Derek’s face reddened. His eyes shifted sideways.
“Jesus Christ.” Nate just stared at Derek. His mind reeled. His lungs froze and his vision grew dark.
“I can’t believe this,” he muttered. He rubbed his face, shook his head. “You fucking son of a bitch. You were having an affair with my wife.”
Derek’s eyes darted to the sliding doors into the house, no doubt worried about Krissa overhearing this. “Shh,” he said.
Fury swelled up in Nate. He was shushing him?
“You…you screwed around with her. While I was in Thailand. How could you do that?”
“You’re screwing around with my wife right now.”
Nate’s chin almost hit the wooden deck. Derek was throwing that in his face? Now?
It was true. Dear God, it was true. But, Christ, it was nowhere near the same thing.
Or was it? Sharp heat flashed over him like a blowtorch.
He shook his head slowly. “You fucking asshole. You asked me to screw your wife.”
“How did you know Lauren was having an affair?” Derek asked, brows drawn together. “Did she tell you?”
Nate glared at him with disgust. “No. She never told me. After she died, I read her journal. She had written pages and pages about the man she was in love with. Pages about what they’d done, what they’d said. How they’d talked about her being pregnant and whether it was his or my baby.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I guess we know the answer to that question now.”
“Uh…yeah.” Derek’s face crumpled. He covered it with his hands. “Jesus.”
“Yeah. All these years of wondering.”
“You weren’t the only one wondering,” Derek said heavily. “Do you know how guilty I felt because I may have knocked up someone else and couldn’t even get my own wife pregnant?”
Nate stared at him. “I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Are you out of your mind?”
Derek grimaced.
“That was my wife you could have ‘knocked up’,” Nate ground out, his throat tight and aching. “But now we know it wasn’t you. Now I know I had a child who died in that car crash along with my wife. Fuck!”
He thrust his hands into his hair, held his skull and turned away from Derek. This could not be happening. This was a bad dream. Not real.
Then he thought about Krissa. “You haven’t told Krissa, have you?”
“No. Of course not.” There was a pause. “You’re not…”
Nate swung around and studied his friend contemptuously. “That woman is so incredible—she’s sweet and loving and beautiful. She lives to please you, Derek. She’d do anything for you.” His lip curled as he recalled the things she’d done. “Anything. And you did that to her. Christ.” He shook his head.
“I love her,” Derek said hoarsely. “Don’t tell her. Please, Nate.”
Nate gazed at him for a long moment. A million thoughts ran through his mind.
And he knew then—he loved her too.
He should tell Krissa. She should know the truth about her husband. About her marriage.
But how could he do that to her? She loved Derek, was committed to her marriage and to the child she could be carrying even now.
At that moment, Nate’s gut churned and he had to swallow hard several times, saliva accumulating in his mouth.
“This isn’t the only time you’ve cheated on her, is it?” It was a bad feeling he’d had since he’d arrived in Montecito. “Never mind.” He held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
He shook his head again, trying to clear it, walked to the railing of the deck and gazed out at the ocean. Big puffs of white scudded across the evening sky. The wind roughened the ocean, deepened the waves crashing onto shore below them. He gripped the railing so tightly he felt the wood digging into his palms.
Then he turned, had to get away from Derek, ran down the stairs to the beach. His feet clattered on the wooden steps until he hit the sand, and he almost staggered as his feet sank into the softness. He took long, uneven steps over the beach till he reached the smooth firmness of wet sand. He gulped in the sea air, tipped his head back, pushed a hand through his hair.
What the fuck was he supposed to do?
He walked until he reached his rock, sank down onto it, cool and hard beneath his ass. He faced the ocean, but didn’t see it. The breeze blew his hair back off his face but he barely noticed it. He leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, held his head in his hands. If he’d thought he’d felt pain and betrayal when Lauren had died, it was nothing compared to this. And it wasn’t even for himself that he felt the worst. He ached for Krissa.