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His father had withheld the same words that Saint had. God, that hurt to acknowledge. He wasexactlylike his father. And if his father didn’t survive, that meant Saint wouldn’t ever make his peace with the old man.
Fliss’s soft hand covered his.
His throat tightened. His eyes grew hot. He used his thumb to pinch her fingers to his palm. He didn’t deserve her kindness and wondered what had prompted such generosity.
But he knew. Love. She loved him.
He was a selfish bastard for accepting it, but he drank it up like rare scotch.
The first few days were fraught and filled withhurry up and wait.
Saint was pulled in every direction, leaving Fliss helpless to do anything except provide what support she could. She reminded him to eat and curled up to him anytime he sat down, hoping it would pin him down long enough to force a small rest. He always responded by drawing her closer and occasionally nodded off, but he never stayed still long. He was up early and came to bed late.
She invited Norma to eat dinner with them every night so she wasn’t spending evenings alone. Norma accepted a few times, but they were somber occasions without much conversation.
Eventually, Ted’s condition stabilized enough to determine he had lost the use of his left arm and leg. His facial muscles were affected, and he was having trouble with cognition and speech. His doctors believed he would improve over time, but he would never fully recover.
Saint came home one evening looking very tired after a long meeting with the board.
“How did they take the news?” She knew he’d conveyed Ted’s prognosis today.
“Voted me in as president,” he said without emotion.
She poured him a scotch and brought it to him, sensing what a bittersweet accomplishment this was for him.
“Thank—” He took the glass with one hand and caught her wrist with the other, looking at the ring on her finger.
“It was delivered this morning.” She had fallen in love with it all over again. “You should have seen the production I went through before they would release it. I thought we were going to have to start our baby-making all over again because they seemed to want our first born.”
Saint didn’t crack a hint of a smile. He absently set aside his drink and held her hand in his two, studying the stone as if it were a crystal ball.
At his continued silence, her stomach wobbled. They hadn’t talked about marriage since she’d driven away from the jewelry shop in London.
“I know this isn’t the right time to make announcements. I don’t have to wear it if you’d rather I didn’t.” She started to withdraw her hand, but he held on to it.
“One of the board members asked me today whether we were getting married. I didn’t know what to say.” His troubled gaze came up to hers. “I was such an ass to you that day. Not just after the news about Dad. Before.”
“Saint.” She had worked her way through that and wasn’t holding any grudges.
“No, let me say this.” His mouth pressed flat a moment. His brows did the same. “Loveis a really loaded word in my world. It always comes with strings. Historically, anyone who said they loved me wanted something, and so everyone said it. Almost everyone. If there was someone who didn’t want anything from me, who criticized me and implied I didn’t have anything they wanted, then I assumed they didn’t love me at all.”
He was talking about his father. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he was cradling her hand in his two, moving the ring enough that it caught glints of light and threw out flashes of rainbow colors.
“I wanted to put a ring on you. To lock you in. I wanted that from the beginning. That’s why I sent the earrings.” Saint flicked his gaze to her naked lobes.
She had thought the ring was extravagant enough for an evening at home. She wasn’t going to swan around like it was coronation day.
“I wanted to give you everything you wanted. It’s the dynamic I understand. Give her a barn full of horses and she’ll be happy enough to stay,” he said. “I told you to trust that I would take care of you, then all I’ve done since we got back is lean on you. Thank you for reaching out to Mom, by the way. She doesn’t know how to deal with this any better than I do. I think she would come more often, but she feels she’s intruding.”
“I’ll make sure she knows she’s not.”
“See? We don’t know what to do with that, Fliss. Emotional generosity isn’t something we have any experience with.”
“You’re going to break my heart, saying things like that. This is what marriage is, Saint. Leaning on each other when you need to.” She slid her arms around his waist and emphasized her statement by letting her weight press into him.
“I thought you were leaving me that day.” He folded his arms around her shoulders, voice grave. “When you said you were at your bedsit and needed time. I thought I’d driven you away.”
“I was hurt and was being petulant—I’ll admit that. But I went there planning to close out my life there. I knew this was where I belong now, with you.”
