Page 85 of Flirting with Trouble

More relief washes over me. “I’ve missed your sense of humor.”

“I’ve missed everything about you.” He takes my hand, drawing me closer as we make our way down to the path.

We leave our shoes by the dune grass and head down to the beach. The sun hangs low on the horizon as we walk hand in hand across the cool sand. The sounds of waves kissing the shore mingle with voices carrying in the breeze from a family packing up to leave and others along the beach. My nerves kick up again as I try to figure out where to start with Wells, and I know I just have to dive in with both feet.

“I owe you an explanation about Friday night—”

“No, you don’t.” He stops walking, his expression serious. “You don’t owe me anything. I want to be in your life, Vic, and I want to understand what happened the other night, but only if you want to share it with me.”

How could I have ever thought he was just a playboy? I almost missed out on this incredibly patient man who sets my world, and my heart, on fire. “I want to. It’s just not going to be easy.”

“There’s no rush.”

“Yes, there is. I want us to work out, and we can’t unless I’m completely honest with you.”

“I appreciate that.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me to bug off.”

“You know better than anyone that when you know someone is the one for you, you don’t kick them to the curb just because they’re scared.” He kisses me tenderly, loosening the painful barbs in my chest.

When we reach the beach, he takes my hand again, and as we walk along the shore, I take a deep breath and lay my heart bare.

“Before we talk about Friday, you need to understand what happened when Harvey died.” My nerves flame, and he must sense it, because he holds my hand tighter. “The night he died, we were working late at the office. Everyone else had already gone home. We’d had a really stressful day dealing with issues with two of our biggest clients. We were both on edge, and we got into an argument about how to handle a situation.”

I swallow hard, that awful night coming back too vividly. “Harvey and I almost never yelled at each other. If we argued and things got heated, we’d give each other space and discuss it later. But that night, we both snapped. We were yelling at each other, and we weren’t making any sense or any headway, and I stormed out. I was so angry, and I don’t even remember how things got out of hand.”

My eyes well up, and I try to blink the tears away. “I went home thinking he’d show up after he cooled off. When he didn’t come home two hours later, I called his cell, and it rang a few times and then went to voicemail. That wasn’t normal for us. Even if we were fighting, he always picked up. We both did. So I went back to the office, and that’s when I found him.” My voice cracks. “He was lying on the floor between his desk and the door, and he…he wasn’t breathing. I tried to…I couldn’t bring him back.” Tears spill down my cheeks.

“Jesus, baby.” Wells pulls me into his arms, holding me tight. “You must’ve been terrified.”

“I never should’ve let it get so bad,” I choke out, my chest aching. “He had high blood pressure, and his father died young from a heart attack when Harvey was in college. I should’ve stopped yelling. I never should’ve left. If I’d been there, I could’ve…”

He holds me tighter. “I’m sorry, baby, but Harvey’s death isn’t your fault.”

“I know I didn’t kill him, but the fight didn’t help, and I was selfish in our marriage, only I didn’t know I was being selfish.” I push out of his arms, swiping at my tears. “I didn’t take Harvey’s last name when we got married because I wanted to be respected in the industry, and there were so many people who thought I was a gold digger. I didn’t want anyone to dismiss me by name alone.”

“That doesn’t make you selfish. Plenty of women don’t take their husband’s name.”

“That’s not all. He wanted kids, but I wasn’t ready.” I swipe at my tears. “He never knew his mother, and he had no other relatives, so when he died, his family name did, too—” Sobs steal my voice, and Wells wraps me in his arms again. “That’s my fault. The company is his only legacy. And to make it worse, as time passed, I started feeling like I might want kids one day, and I’ve been burying those feelings. But then I met you, and…I just feel so guilty.”

“It’s okay. Let it out.” He kisses my head and rubs my back. When I burrow into him, he holds me tighter. “I’ve got you.”

Sharing the weight of those long-held secrets draws more tears. I don’t know how long we stand there on the beach, my tears wetting his shirt, his strong arms holding me up, but it feels like forever. But he doesn’t rush me. He holds me until my breathing calms and my tears stop.

He cradles my face in his hands and wipes my tears with his thumbs. “I understand why you feel guilty, but not taking his name and not having babies doesn’t make you selfish. You were a young woman with career aspirations, and I’m sure Harvey knew exactly who you were every step of the way.”

“He did,” I say softly. “But that doesn’t take away the sadness of knowing everything about him except his business and the memories people hold is gone. And that’s not all. Can we sit down?”

“Of course.” He touches his shirt. “Do you want me to put my shirt down so you don’t get your slacks dirty?”

Chivalry at its best, even when things are emotionally charged. “No, it’s okay.”

We sit in the sand, and I take a moment to let the sea breeze wash over my face. Wells puts his arm around me and kisses my temple.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to unload on you.”

“You’re not unloading. You’re letting me in. I wondered why you never talked about when Harvey died or how you felt afterward. Now I understand.”