hugging the brick floor, the candid photos gracing buttercream-yellow walls, the beams of warm twilight shafting through the paned bay window to kiss the ladder-backed chairs at a round oak table, he realized with a lonely ache that this was the kind of home he’d grown up in.
This was the kind of home he wanted for Bonnie.
Oh, sure, he could have Palm Breeze’s hottest designer turn his house into a carbon copy of Candy’s, but what he couldn’t pay someone to reproduce was the everyday simplicity. The deep-down sweetness.
The scent of painstakingly rubbed lemon oil that did battle with burnt corn dogs and won. The happy gurgle of a fish tank bubbling in the far corner. And from outside the screened windows, faint stirrings of leaves in the trees. Waves lapping at the lakeshore. Kids playing Freeze Tag somewhere down the street.
After all that Jake had achieved, the fortune he’d amassed, this kitchen was the one thing that, in as long as he could remember, felt familiar. Like home. It irked him that just being back in this room, no matter how much in appearances it’d changed, inside, he felt the same way he had walking out for the last time. Like an empty, aimless shell of a man.
Dammit, but he resented Candy for going on with her life and this house without him.
This had been his house as much as hers. His dream as much as hers. And now, seeing how capably she’d managed without him, he felt like an intruder. A failure. And that scared him, for the only thing he’d ever in his whole life failed at was his relationship with her.
How ironic was it that his future with Bonnie depended on his past with his ex-wife?
Just like his dad, he’d always planned on returning home after a long day’s work not to an empty house, but to a home bursting with laughter and life. Kids, dogs, cats, hamsters—Once upon a time Jake had wanted it all, with Candy beside him, hugging him, kissing him, making love to him late into the night until they had to stop because one of their kids was banging on the bedroom door.
“Mommy? Daddy? Can I come in? I had a bad dream.”
Candy would giggle, pulling her simple cotton nightie over her head, past full breasts, slim abdomen and hips. Jake would hop out of bed and yank on his boxers before opening the door to scoop his sleepy rug rat into his arms. For the sake of his daydream he’d call the kid Mark, and he would smell a little sweaty and of cedar shavings—not unlike his pet hamster.
In his mind’s eye, Jake watched himself lug Mark to their bed where he’d wriggle—footie pajamas and all—smack-dab into the middle before promptly falling asleep, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. And then, in milky moonlight, Candy would reach out to him, her husband and best friend, grasp his hand and give it a light squeeze. Without either of them saying a word, Jake would know his every wish had quietly come true.
Back to reality, Jake swallowed hard.
What happened, Candy? What happened between us to make love not be enough?
“Pizza should be here in about forty minutes.”
He looked up.
Even doing something as simple as crossing the room, Candy had such grace. A long time ago she was everything he’d ever wanted and more. That long, silky hair, those even longer legs. When they made love, she’d had this way of wrapping those legs around him, urging him deeper, urging their souls closer, that had nearly made him weep with the sheer joy of being her man.
Now…
Whoa. Now, he just wanted out. Time to regroup.
The woman and her cozy kitchen were dangerous. “Forty minutes, huh? Whew, that’s a long time.”
“Yeah.” At the waist of her simple floral dress, she fumbled with her hands. “Uh, want to watch a movie or something while we wait?”
“No, Candy, I think what we should do is talk.”
Chapter Three
Minutes later, in the living room, Candy took the sofa while her ex choose an overstuffed tapestried wing chair.
Personally, she’d had enough talking, but seeing as how Jake probably wouldn’t leave without spilling whatever was on his mind, she figured she might as well let him get it out of his system. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s hear it. What in the world made you re-propose this afternoon at the shop?”
“Jeez, where do I start?” He cleared his throat, worked the opening of his forest-green golf shirt—the one she was trying not to notice did such heavenly things with his annoyingly direct gaze. “I’ve gotten into a bit of a jam, and need your help—no, I’m desperate for your help.” A strangled laugh passed his lips. “I would offer to pay you, but—”
“I get the picture. Go on.”
“So anyway, I had these great friends, Cal and Jenny. And they had a great baby. Her name is Bonnie and you should see her blue eyes sparkle. I was at the hospital the day she was born—saw her just an hour out of the womb. Jenny told Cal all babies have blue eyes, but he told her, ‘Nonsense, this beautiful kid of ours is destined to have the most striking pair of bonny blue peepers in the whole wide world.’ And so they named her Bonnie Blue, just like Rhett and Scarlett’s daughter—only I’ll be damned if I ever let her near a horse.”
Candy leaned forward, spellbound by the change in Jake’s expression. His eyes glowed with love for this child who wasn’t even his. If there’d ever been a doubt in her mind that she hadn’t done the right thing in giving him a divorce, it was gone now. Jake was destined to be a dad. Just like she was destined to never be a mom.
“In fact, I’m thinking of banning her from all moving things. Trikes, bikes, and especially cars—not to mention the wild teens who drive them.”
“Jake,” she said, a sickening suspicion forming in her stomach. “Why are you talking about this baby as if she’s yours?”
He swallowed hard, and it was then she saw tears shimmer in his deep brown eyes. “Because she is mine, Candy. Cal and Jenny—they died.”
“Oh, no.” She flung her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Not thinking, just doing, she went to him, wrapping him in a hug. “How? They must have been so young.”
“Drunk driver,” he said when she sat on the coffee table in front of him. “It was bad. A couple of kids out cruising on a Friday night hit them head-on. Cops said the driver must’ve downed at least ten beers for his blood alcohol to be so—”
He paused to swallow, catch his breath, and she reached for his hand. “Go on. It’s okay.”
Nodding, he said, “Sorry. It’s been a month, but it’s still hard.”
“I can imagine. These people were your friends.”
“Yeah. They were the best. When my dad died, and then my mom, they were the ones who helped me through.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your mom’s funeral.” She squeezed his hand. “But with Grandpa in the hospital last spring and everything.”
“It’s okay. I understood. I wish the guys down at the store would’ve told me he was sick. I’m sure he needed you.”
I wanted you to need me, too.
Had she? Lord, what was happening? All of her carefully constructed emotional dams felt dotted with holes.
“Anyway,” he said after expelling a deep breath. “In the emergency room, right after Jenny died, Cal asked me to take Bonnie. All they had for family was each other and their friends, so Cal asked me to raise their daughter like she was my own. And, of course, I agreed, never thinking it would actually come to that. But then Cal died, too. So…I did as he asked. And I’ve been caring for Bonnie ever since.”
“Of course.”
“And