The head door opened. Tate stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb, her arms crossed over the boys’ T-shirt they’d found in the dresser.
She looked good. Her color was fine. In fact, she seemed a bit flushed. Her chest rose and fell normally. There were no apparent tremors. The only thing that looked off was the puffiness of her eyes, but even that was in the regular range. He wanted to say something, anything, but he held back, afraid that whatever he did say would be wrong and would send her straight back to panic.
“So these are my options,” she said, her voice even and considered. “I can do the completely logical, rational thing and not believe one thing you’ve said. It makes perfect sense that you set me up for this. I mean, who else knew we were going to be at Prada? That Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to get to me in that tiny little window of opportunity? It makes sense that you came after me, knowing I had a great deal of money in a secret account. Why else was I taken to a boat? It made getting the money easy and my disposal a snap.
“It also makes sense that you would bring your brother into this. That he’d know someone who had the boat, had the means, had the manpower. Everything points to you. I’m not being melodramatic, either. Any cop on any Law & Order would nail your ass before the first commercial.”
She straightened, and with arms still crossed, still protective, she took two steps toward him. “Or, against all logic and reason, I can believe you. I can shift my focus to our relationship in the car. How much I enjoyed our long conversations and how much I admired your own logic and reason. I can remember how you made me laugh.
“And I can think about making love with you and how you made me feel. Of course, if I choose to believe you and I find out I was wrong, I will want to die, so that works in your favor. If I’m right, and you’re innocent and then you die…Well, you’re just not allowed to, okay? Because I am taking a huge, stupid risk here. It makes no sense, and if my father knew, he’d strangle me for my own good.”
She walked a little closer to the bed, and when she stood in front of him, telling him in no uncertain terms that she was on his side, she dropped her arms. He looked up at her face. She looked beautiful, with her hair thick and wavy, with no makeup, with no defenses whatsoever.
He stood. “Tate, I can’t believe I’m going to say this. Unfortunately I have no choice.”
Her face got sad and she bit her lower lip.
“No, it’s not like that. Don’t fret. But I have to use the toilet.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You were in there a really long time.”
Desperate now, he dashed the few feet to his objective, kicking the door shut behind him.
Tate stared at the closed door. She smiled despite herself, and a moment later she was laughing, picturing the poor guy crossing his legs as the hours had crawled by. She’d taken advantage of her location a couple of times, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he might need to, too.
She sat on the edge of the bed as she laughed, not just at his predicament but at her own willingness to live knee-deep in denial. It was utter nonsense to believe him, and she knew it, but if this was the end, she’d rather go out with the charming liar, thank you. She’d rather have as much sex as was humanly possible. She’d prefer not to have any more panic attacks and to continue to use Michael as her safe place.
Either way, believing him or not, she doubted she was walking away from this, so what the hell? She’d wasted so much time, so much life, that this seemed the sanest decision she’d made since dumping Graydon.
“So you think that was funny?” Michael had taken her place leaning against the doorjamb. His arms were crossed over his chest, which was too bad. He had a great chest.
“Yes. I think so. Although I do apologize for putting you in that dire circumstance.”
He nodded. Kept staring at her.
“Well? Comments? Suggestions?”
His wonderful lips curled up into a great smile. “A couple of comments. No suggestions.”
“Go ahead.”
“I completely understand not believing a word I said.”
“Thanks.”
“I thought about laying all my theories on the table, but now that seems irrelevant. This is clearly an act of faith.”
“That’s true.”
“I just want to state what I know about you. These aren’t opinions, by the way. They’re facts.”
“Uh-oh.”
His expression grew serious. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” He came to the bed and sat down next to her. When she looked into his eyes, he looked straight back. “I know you’ve got strengths that are invisible to you. I know that you haven’t been helped to see them by your father or your shrink. I know that Sara’s been a damn good friend and that you should listen to her more closely.
“I know that it feels insurmountable, this panic disorder of yours, but I’m damned impressed by how you’ve handled yourself since we’ve been here. By all rights, you should be comatose by now. A drooling mess. But you’re not, are you? You’ve made a very tough decision, and that’s not easy for the sanest people out there. You chose life, Tate, and given all the evidence, you shouldn’t have.”
She turned away from him as the tears threatened to fall. She’d never have guessed he’d use this opportunity to talk about her. To give her the single greatest pep talk of her life. She’d imagined him shoring up his alibi, redirecting her suspicions.
Maybe believing in him wasn’t the stupidest decision she’d ever made.
“There’s food here, and I know you haven’t had any all day.”
She sniffed, blinked, then turned to look at the plates. Each one had a sandwich, a few baby carrots and a bag of chips. Suddenly it looked better than a meal at Nobu.
She grabbed one of the plates and tore off the cellophane. Michael laughed and did the same with his plate. For the next ten minutes they did nothing but scarf. He got up once and went to the vanity, where there were two sodas. Even though neither was diet, she took hers eagerly.
The idyll didn’t last long.
Michael wiped his mouth with the small paper napkin and put his empty can on the clean plate. “That sucked and was great all at the same time.”
She took both plates back to the vanity. “That’s also true.” As she turned back to him, she was caught completely by surprise by an enormous belch. She felt her cheeks heat as she put her hand to her mouth.
Michael grinned as if he’d just seen Santa.
“I’m glad my humiliation pleases you so much.”
“Hey, tit for tat.”
“I suppose so,” she said. “It’s weird not being able to retreat.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Not right now, but I did about twenty seconds ago.”
“You clearly never had a brother.”
She shook her head. “I had Lisa. Then Sara. That’s it.”
“That sounds pretty good to me.”
Tate had a rush of anticipation for what the night would hold as she walked back to the bed. She sat next to him and touched his thigh. “There’s no Sara in your life?”
“Nope. I had some good friends in the Army. But that’s over.”
“Are you sure your friends are over? Or are you just embarrassed?”
“I’m sure. They’re embarrassed, and that doesn’t tend to work with us military types. It’s easiest for everyone if I stay under the radar.”
“I hope you make more friends after this is over. Without Sara…”
“Hey,” he said. “Sara.”
“You can’t have her. She’s mine.”
“Oh.”
“Not that way. Jeez, are all men so predictable?”
“Yes.”
She smiled at him and he smiled back. She wasn’t going to waste any more time doubting her decision. After all, she’d chosen life.