Lily Love (20 page)

“I will earn it, you can count on it.” He smiles, completely unshaken by my caution. Dimples winking, eyes shining, he’s irresistible.

Oh, man. I’m in so much trouble.

somewhere only we know

S
omewhere between stolen moonlight kisses and secret garden promises, I find myself growing less guarded. My boundaries are becoming more pliant to the possibility that Tate is an exception to the rules by which I live and breathe. In particular, the one where I promised myself to take my time and not rush into anything. The more time I spend in his space, the more enthralled I become with the man he’s showing me he is. I don’t want our evening to end—but I know that the time is drawing near for me to take him back to the hospital.

There’s no way to predict what tomorrow will bring with it; I only know that what’s growing between us cannot take precedence over the realities we’re facing. I have a daughter who needs me to advocate for her, and a divorce agreement that needs finalizing. Tate’s mother has only a few months left to live. These are not circumstances that any kind of relationship flourishes under. The logical part of my brain knows this. Still, my heart yearns for Tate with a ferocity I can’t ignore or deny. Nor do I want to.

“The next time we come out here, I need to bring my camera.” Tate’s voice pulls me back from my wandering thoughts. Leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees, he’s studying one of my favorite flowers.

“I’m glad you like it here; I wasn’t sure what you’d think.” I smile as pleasure stains my cheeks. “Do you like photography?” I ask curiously.

“It’s my passion,” he murmurs as he studies the landscape of blooms. I can picture him here, squatting with his camera, adjusting the lens, framing his shot.

“Are you any good?” I tease, but somehow I already know he is.

“I hope so.” He shrugs. “It would be a shame for the people who hired me if I sucked.” A professional photographer, too. Mother of pearl, this man just keeps getting hotter. What else don’t I know? He reaches out to test the texture of the flower petals, smoothing them between his fingers.

“It’s a Casablanca Lily,” I say. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“Breathtaking,” he replies, clearing his throat when his gaze returns to me. “Sorry, I get carried away when I find portrait ideas for my portfolio.”

“No apologies.” I shake my head. “You’re passionate about your craft, and you just zeroed in on my favorite moon bloomer. Nothing to be sorry for at all.”

His face lights up at my praise. “I don’t do portrait shoots,” he explains. “I sell limited copyrights to most of my catalog for stock-photo use, so I can make a living and then shoot what I really want to in my free time.”

“Wait, didn’t you say you studied engineering?” I distinctly remember him saying that he and Laura had been in the same engineering program together.

“I did,” he confirms. “I have a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. I worked in the field for a few years, but it just wasn’t for me. I’ve always been passionate about photography; I just didn’t think I could make a career out of it. After a while, I realized I could be safe and bored as an engineer, or I could take a leap of faith and see what happened. Best thing I ever did.”

Leap of faith. Yes, I’m learning a thing or two about those.

“That’s very inspiring. We should all be so brave where our dreams are concerned. Maybe you could show me some of your stuff sometime,” I suggest. I frown at my watch, suddenly wishing I hadn’t checked. “Wow, it’s already ten fifteen.”

He winces. “I really should get back to the hospital. I’m surprised Tarryn hasn’t started lighting up my phone.”

With a heavy sigh, I take in a final scan of what is now my shared sanctuary. All the wanting in the world couldn’t keep the evening from coming to a close, but I cling just a little longer, holding on to Tate’s hand as we stroll back to my car.

The drive back to the hospital is quiet, making me more anxious with every mile closer we get. For all the talking we did, we haven’t discussed where things go from here. Was this just a nice distraction for a night? Are we friends? Are we more? Are we crazy? Well, of course we are. Duh.

The stoplight ahead flashes yellow, and I mentally flip the mocking “yield” warning the bird. If I had any restraint I
would
be yielding, thank you very much. Although some would argue that I’m an adult and should have more self-control than a hormonal teenager, I’m clearly just a slave to my traitorous heart. At least I haven’t slept with him . . . yet.

Oh, Lord. If that is the last shred of dignity I can cling to, I’m in really bad shape. I let out an audible sigh, and Tate reaches out and puts his hand on my knee. It makes my skin flush with heat, and I find myself gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He starts encircling my knee with his fingertips. It’s my kneecap, for chrissakes, and you’d think he was encircling my nipples, the way they’re pushing through my shirt right now.

“Are you cold?” he asks, showing his concern by rubbing my knee up to my midthigh. He’s warming me up, all right. “You’ve got goose bumps.” Yeah, thanks for noticing.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I guess I’m a little chilly. Night air and all.” I should be telling myself that I want him to stop, but what I really want is for his hand to drift a little higher . . .

Tart.

Oh hush. Who asked you, anyway?

“I was just thinking that we talked about so many things, but we didn’t talk about if we wanted to see each other again.” I feel so lame. Is this what I’ve really relegated myself to, a blatant fishing expedition?

Do you like me? If yes, check here.__ If you think I’m a pathetic loser, check here.__

“I mean, I know I want to see you again, and I know you’d like to see me,” I quickly correct. “It’s just that we’ve got a lot going on, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to call me. I get it.”

I really don’t want him to feel like he’s got to take time away from being with his mother. If anything, I’d like to know how I can ease his burden, not amplify it. After all the time I’ve spent submersed in just my own problems, it’s shocking to find myself willing and wanting to be involved with someone else’s. I don’t want to blow this, but every time I open my mouth I’m sticking my foot in.

“Caroline.” One word, and by the tone I can tell that I’m not going to like what’s coming. “I don’t know what the next few months are going to look like for me.”

Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along? Then why does it hurt so much to hear it coming out of his mouth? I knew this was the reality. I knew it, and I chose to get swept up in it anyway.

“Tate,” I interrupt him before he can continue and break my heart. A heart that I’d been adamantly trying to protect. So much for that. “You don’t have to explain. Really. I understand.” I completely understand, but it doesn’t make my heart ache less. I’ve got clarity, dammit. Shouldn’t I get a free pass on the pain? Sheesh.

“What can you possibly understand? You just cut me off.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard Tate irritated, and that hurts worse than his blowoff. We pull up in front of the hospital and I throw the car into park. I stare at my lap, afraid of what I’ll find if I cave and look at Tate.

“I don’t know what the next few months are going to look like. I’m not going to have a lot of time for much of a life, but the time I
do
have I’d like to spend with the one person who’s actually made me forget about the fact that mine is falling apart.” He throws his hands into the air, exasperated. “Please.”

I’m not sure if he’s pleading with me, God, Buddha, or some other kind of higher power. Why do I keep presuming to know what he’s thinking? Do I think so little of myself that I can’t fathom anyone wanting to make time for me? No wonder the poor guy’s frustrated; I can’t shut up long enough to get out of my own way.

“I’m s-sorry, Tate,” I stammer. “I just . . . I . . . uh . . .” I have no idea what to say. What is the protocol for a situation like this?
Hooray, I’m so glad your dying mother isn’t going to put a damper on things?
Or
Let me see how long I can pawn off my kid, so we can spend some more time making out?

“You still don’t get it.” Tate’s soothing voice breaks through my self-damning thoughts. My breath comes in short, shallow puffs. I struggle to no avail to maintain my composure, embarrassed to find myself fighting back tears. “I’m going to make it my mission to show you how wonderful you are, if you’ll let me.”

I take a deep breath and pour out my heart, before I can talk myself out of it. “I want you to be a part my life. Any way I can have you, I’ll take you.” I pause for a moment, wanting to get the next part exactly right. I have no idea how to tactfully broach my concern about Lily, about how he might react to her specifically, without making it sound like I have no faith in him. I’m just scared he’ll be intimidated by her needs. Hell,
I
feel that way most of the time.

Movement in my peripheral vision distracts me. A tall, willowy brunette is pacing outside the hospital doors. Tate turns to see what I’m looking at. At the same moment, the brunette looks toward us
and smiles. If the resemblance wasn’t obvious before, her dimples are a dead giveaway. Tate signals for her to head our way and gets out of the car to greet her. I step out too and tentatively head around the hood to meet his sister.

“Tarryn, I’d like you to meet Caroline.” Tate drapes his arm around my shoulders as I reach out to shake Tarryn’s hand. One eyebrow arches high above the other as she takes me in. She looks so much like Tate it’s uncanny.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Tarryn,” I manage to say without stammering. She’s elegantly beautiful with long wavy hair and a big glowing smile. Everything about her is a reflection of Tate, except her eyes. They’re a lighter shade, I think. Not quite hazel, not quite brown, they’re unique, and sharp as a tack as they take me in.

“Likewise, Caroline.” She smirks at her brother. I start to squirm, but Tate’s arm holds me steadily against him. Some sort of silent twin language is passed in the looks the two exchange. The more firmly Tate squeezes my shoulder, the higher Tarryn’s eyebrow goes. “I was just coming outside for some fresh air. Mom fell asleep about an hour ago,” she says, looking back and forth between us with interest. I feel like a trespasser as she fills Tate in on the details of their mother’s evening.

“I was just going,” I say, slinking out from under Tate’s arm. He catches my hand before I can escape back into the safety of my Prius.

“Caroline, wait,” Tate pleads. A subtle smile plays at Tarryn’s lips as she watches the scene unfold between us.

“Please don’t mind me.” She grins. “I was just headed back upstairs, anyway. Tom is waiting for me. Good night, Caroline.” She leans in to kiss her brother’s cheek and whispers something in his ear. With a quick wave of her fingers she’s gone, vanishing back into the hospital, leaving a wake of awkward silence behind her.

“That was bizarre,” I say. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t feel ambushed.” Poor Tate. I doubt he wants the added stress of explaining to his sister why he was sneaking off to have dinner with some strange woman.

“No,
I’m
sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize she’d be stalking the lobby waiting for us to return.” He shakes his head, watching where his sister disappeared through the front doors.

“What do you mean?” I furrow my brow in confusion. “She knew you were going out to dinner?”

“I told Tarryn all about you,” he admits as he absently reaches up and smoothes the space between my eyebrows. “She’s known about you from the start.” He lets his hand drop and tips his face toward his shoes, smiling sheepishly.

“You told her about me?” I ask incredulously.

“I haven’t shut up about you.” He laughs nervously. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she came down to check you out. We’re lucky she didn’t drag Tom down with her.”

“Tom,” I repeat in confusion. “Who’s Tom?” I’m completely dumbfounded. My brain can’t seem to catch up to the fact that Tate’s been chatting me up to his family. I don’t know why it should be a surprise, though. It’s not like I haven’t bent the ears of Max and Paige, soliciting their advice.

“Tom is my brother-in-law,” he answers. “He’s upstairs, I’m assuming, or back at my house. They’re staying with me for the time being. They live in Wilmington, where Tom is from. His parents are staying with my niece and nephew while they’re here with Mom.”

I’m grateful to know that I’m not the only one who rambles when they’re nervous.

“Who did you say I was?” I don’t want to interrogate him, but I’m instantly curious about how my presence is being explained to the people in his life.

“At first, I told her I met a beautiful and fascinating woman in the cafeteria.” A hint of color tints his cheeks, making my heart melt. “Each time I ran into you, I’d go back and fill her in on how incredible I think you are. That’s all.”

“Oh ‘that’s all,’ ” I tease. “I hope I live up to the hype.” A fresh wave of nerves threatens to sweep me away at the thought of our
anticlimactic introduction. I cringe, remembering my lack of finesse. I barely said a word.

“You already do.” He gives me a knowing grin. “She whispered her approval before she bailed.” He laughs at my shocked expression. “I believe she said, ‘Nice choice, T. Don’t mess it up.’ ”

“She doesn’t think it’s inappropriate?” The words leave my mouth before I can think better of it.

Verbal diarrhea. I think there’s medication for that.

“Hey.” Tate brings his eyes level to mine. “She doesn’t think anything of it. She knows we can’t always plan when good things come into our lives. She feels the same way I do—grateful that I’ve met someone wonderful during a time I thought I’d be alone.”

My breath catches in my throat, thinking of Tate enduring his mother’s death on his own. Tarryn has Tom to lean on, but where was Tate going to lean?

“You’re not alone, Tate,” I say. I want to promise him, but I can’t. My good intentions toward Tate are second to being a mother to Lily. Wanting to be there for Tate seems so possible, until you add in the needs of my developmentally disabled child.