He tried to weigh things in his mushy mind, tried to make sense of it. He couldn’t help the thought that if Krissa knew about Derek and Lauren, she’d leave Derek. She could be his. His alone.
Hope and excitement leaped in him at the thought.
He loved her. He wanted to be with her, always. If she knew Derek was screwing around on her, she’d leave him. They could be together, just the two of them. Fuck Derek.
He turned that possibility over and over in his mind for long, pleasurable moments.
Then he faced reality. She was married. She loved her husband. She and Derek had survived the last two years without her knowing. They could probably spend the rest of their lives together without him ever having to confess what he’d done. And if she never knew…it wouldn’t hurt her.
How could he be the one to tell her Derek was a lying, cheating asshole?
He stared at a boat, way out near the horizon. It bobbed on the water, seemingly unmoving. He watched it. Measured its progress against one of the oil rigs. Yes. It was moving. Slowly, but it was moving. He stared at it until it had moved a considerable distance.
Clouds raced past the sun, shifting him from light to dark and back to light again. He idly noted that even when the sun came out it didn’t hurt his eyes. Great.
He should be ecstatic. He was finally getting what he wanted ever since he’d gotten sick in Costa Rica. Ever since he’d arrive in Montecito, he’d wanted his eyes to get better so he could leave and get on with his life. His miserable, lonely life.
He blew out a long breath, still amazed at the pain deep inside him, the empty crater that was his gut.
He had to leave.
He sat there a while longer, wishing he could think of some other way. He couldn’t tell Krissa, and there was no way he could stay there with the two of them in this cozy threesome with the loathing and disgust he now felt toward Derek. He could never pull that off.
What about the baby?
Did he still want to do that? Of course, it might be too late. She could already be pregnant. He closed his eyes, mouth as dry as if he’d picked up a handful of sand and swallowed it. After last month, he didn’t have as much hope that they’d been successful this time. Likely not. His only chance at being a father had probably died in that freeway crash two years ago.
He put a hand to his chest. Fuck, it hurt. Why did it hurt so much, now, thinking about that? Thinking about Lauren and their baby. About her betrayal. And now…finding out his best friend had done something so heinous—cheated on his own wife, with Nate’s wife, betraying both of them. Jesus.
He heaved himself off the rock, feeling heavy and stiff, and headed back to the house with jerky, uneven steps. He stopped to look down at some seaweed washed ashore, a tangled black mess, complicated and impossible to unravel without breaking it up.
He climbed the stairs to the house on shaky legs. Derek still sat on the deck. Nate paused, shot him a glance, his heart constricting. Then he continued into the house, through the sliding doors. Krissa stood in the kitchen, doing something with some food at the counter. He ignored her, didn’t want to see her, didn’t want her to see him, and headed straight up to his room and shut the door.
He hadn’t even unpacked the bag he’d taken to L.A., but he had other clothes in the closet, in the dresser. He shoved clothing into another bag, not caring how he packed. He balled up a pair of jeans and stuffed them in, then strode into his bathroom to gather his toiletries. He stared at himself in the mirror, for once not wearing the damn ugly glasses. He looked…naked without them. Vulnerable. Pain and betrayal stared back at him.
When his gear was packed, he dragged it out into the kitchen. Krissa was setting the table for dinner, wearing a pair of long shorts that made her calves below their hems look adorably small and smooth, and a long-sleeved hooded sweater. She looked up at him and smiled, and the sweetness and love in that smile sucked all the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He stopped.
He watched her face cloud as she took in his bags, her smile faltering.
Derek came to the sliding door and opened it, stepped in. He, too, looked pale and strained as he observed Nate’s stuff.
“I have to go.” Nate’s voice sounded weird to him, rough and sandy. He struggled for control of his raging emotions. He took a step toward Krissa, stopped. He forced a smile. “My eyes are almost better, so I have to get back to work.”
He watched expressions flicker across her face—her lips parted, she blinked at him.
“Now? You’re leaving right now?”
His whole body tightened. He wasn’t even sure if he could get the word out past the obstruction in his throat. “Yeah.”
Her mouth opened wider along with her eyes. “I don’t understand. Why do you have to go tonight?”
“I…” He resisted glancing at Derek. His lips twisted into what he hoped was a smile. “Sorry for the short notice, Krissa. I’ve been thinking about it all the way back from L.A.”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. She glanced at Derek, then back at Nate. She shook her head, moved toward him, one hand extended. God, if she touched him he was going to come apart. He saw the confusion and pain in her eyes, and it sliced through him like a blade. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered.
“I know this changes the whole baby plan,” Nate said, striving for lightness in his voice. “I’m sorry about that.”
She stared at him, green eyes huge and dusky. Long dark lashes framed her eyes, giving her a starry-eyed look. She still moved her head slowly from side to side. “But…but, Nate. We…” Her gaze went to her husband again.
“I’m sorry,” Nate choked.
He could see her trembling. He could feel her distress. He sensed how she wanted to beg, plead…even argue with him. And damn it, hadn’t he been encouraging her to fight for what she wanted? But not now. If she tried to stop him from leaving, he’d fall apart.
He wanted to kiss her goodbye. Hold her one more time. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to ever let her go, if he did. But he had to feel her one last time, so he closed the distance between them, took her in his arms and wrapped her up in them. He held her small frame like that, pressed his face to her cool, silky hair, inhaled the scent of the peachy shampoo she used that would be forever imprinted in his olfactory memory as Krissa.
He opened his eyes, met Derek’s, saw pain there too. Good.
He drew back, tipped Krissa’s face up. Oh, Christ.
The anguish in her tear-sparkled green eyes cut into him, all the way to his soul, the deepest, most searing agony he’d ever experienced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he bent his head to kiss her mouth, one lingering, gentle kiss. Then he released her, and stepped back to get his bags. His eyes burned and he lowered his head so Krissa wouldn’t see.
“Thanks for everything,” he choked out. “I…” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d said he was sorry, although she had no idea how sorry he was. He couldn’t tell her what the last few months had meant to him, what she meant to him…couldn’t say any of the things that spun around in his head. So, knowing he looked like an ungrateful jerk, he grabbed his gear and walked out the door.
It was the baby. That’s why she was so upset about him leaving. Because, one more time, he was taking away her chance at being a mother. Another knife stabbed into his chest.
He had to get out of there before he completely fell apart. He was unraveling, little by little, faster and faster. He’d felt this way since the first night he and Krista had had sex. The coming apart had started then, inexorably rolling along like a ball of string down a hill. All he could think of was getting away from there, maybe finding a motel room somewhere and checking in, and then disintegrating into a puddle of grief where nobody could witness his humiliation.