Mr. August (11 page)

“Maybe you’ll get over this thing if you confront Amanda once and for all.” Her mom smoothed out the blanket a third time even though it wasn’t bunched.

“This isn’t about Amanda.” Libby jerked from her own statement. She meant it. While she might have some latent anger for her former boss, it wasn’t what had her stomach in an uproar. The acknowledgment was liberating. While her pride was still raw, she no longer ached from losing her job with Slayte Designs.

A guilty look flashed across her mom’s face and she nibbled harder on her bottom lip.

“You’ve done something, haven’t you?” Libby narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Knowing her mom, it could be anything. That thought prompted another realization—she and her mom were a lot alike—not in looks, but there were similar behavior patterns starting to emerge. In a weird way it was comforting to know that. Undoubtedly she’d end up becoming a lip-chewer.

“I called Amanda. I know I shouldn’t have but I needed to give her a piece of my mind…for you, and for my own mental wellbeing.” Her mom fidgeted herself off the bed. “Amanda feels horrible for what happened. She said she’s been sending you text messages asking if she can stop by to talk, but you haven’t responded.”

Libby laughed without humor. “I got all six of her messages.”

“Amanda sounded weepy, Libby. She knows she messed up. Don’t you think you should at least hear her out?”

Libby might’ve come to the conclusion that it no longer mattered that Amanda fired her, but she wasn’t ready to make nice just yet. “I’ll get hold of her. Not anytime soon.”

Her mother raised her meticulously plucked eyebrows. “Stubborn just like your father.”

It felt good to be obstinate. Libby grabbed the dish of Jell-O. She almost had a wiggly bite to her mouth when a familiar set of blue eyes peeked around the door. She dropped the spoon.

Max came into the room, no coat, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Libby.”

Libby’s pulse spiked like she’d been given a shot of adrenaline. She tried to keep her expression even—a losing battle. She was torn between smiling and scowling.

“Well, hello there,” her mother said to Max. She slanted Libby a curious look.

“Mom, Maxwell August. Maxwell, my mom.” Libby caught a slight flinch when she called him Maxwell. Good. He needed a little discomfort.

Max shook her mother’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Maxwell lives in the cabin next to mine.” She would not refer to him as anything other than the guy next door. Libby sat up straighter and pulled the hospital gown up so it didn’t sag around her. “What brings you to Columbus?”

Zing!

She must be on the road to recovery because suddenly she had a backbone.

Libby and Max glanced at her mother simultaneously. Her mom took the hint with a cheeky grin. “I’m headed to the cafeteria for coffee.” She checked her watch. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

When she was gone, Max lifted the clear hose of the IV. “What is all of this?”

Libby shrugged. “Bad case of the flu. I haven’t been able to keep anything down, including water, so they’re forcing fluids into me.” She touched the small bruise on her forehead where she’d hit the toilet when she passed out and subtly draped a strand of hair over it so he wouldn’t make a fuss.

Max half-closed his eyes as though trying to determine if the explanation was viable.

In a way, Libby hoped it was an extended version of the flu. Not that she enjoyed throwing up, but at least she could recover from something viral. Since there were several strong strains circulating the country, that had to be it. The hospital was crammed with people who had identical symptoms. In fact, when she was admitted, she occupied a bed in the hallway for a few hours, waiting for a room to open up.

“Libby,” Max said softly, “I’m so sorry for leaving.”

The tiny bit of backbone that returned was in jeopardy, so was the spoonful of Jell-O. Libby placed a hand on her stomach as though she could make it behave. “You should be. Y-you were…” She was determined not to stammer. She stopped, took a breath, and continued. “You were a real baby about finishing your book.” That was all the bravery and attitude she could muster.

Max filled the spot vacated by her mother. How could he explain his actions without hurting her more? She deserved the truth. As hard as it was to be honest about such a sensitive issue, he had to give it to her straight. “It wasn’t the book.” He lifted a shoulder. “It was at first.” He took note of her watery eyes. “Libby, you’ll have a hard time understanding this; hell, I’m having a hard time understanding it. I…”

“Say what you came to say, August.”

Max drew back. First she called him Maxwell, now August. She was pissed, and rightly so. He went for Libby’s hand but she tucked it under the blanket. Damn, she had an icy moat in place and the only way to cross it was to bare his soul. He locked gazes with Libby. “My marriage dissolved for a lot of reasons.” Libby prompted him to keep going by crossing her arms and saying nothing. “Mostly because Shari duped me about wanting kids. Actually, she said she was pregnant.” Libby’s eyes opened wide. He exhaled a serious breath of frustration. “I wanted a family. I told her upfront how important it was to me. She said she wanted a family too. Once we tied the knot, everything unraveled. Shari lied about being pregnant and said she wasn’t about to ruin a perfect life or her hips, by having kids.” His throat clogged with emotion. “I was never so angry—and hurt—in my life. That’s why I’ve been walking around like I want to rip someone’s head off. Then I met you. You made me feel as though everything in my world would be all right. I fell for you right away, Libby. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. When I heard you didn’t want kids…”

Libby started to speak, and Max shushed her by putting a finger to her lips. She flinched from the contact.

“Let me finish. When I thought you didn’t want kids, all those feelings I felt the day I left Shari came back.” Tears leaked from Libby’s eyes. Her tears brought his. Max wiped his away with his shirt sleeve and wanted to brush Libby’s away but he was already hanging by a thread from touching her lips. “Steph came to get your stuff and told me everything. I’m so sorry that I jumped to conclusions. I assumed you didn’t want kids.”

Libby remained quiet while regret clawed his insides.

“Libby, I love you. It’s probably too soon to say that, but I do. With my whole heart and soul, I love you. It’s taken my hard head a little time to figure out that love is more important than anything else. I want you in my life. It doesn’t matter if we have kids, we’ll have each other. Please forgive me.”

Raw pain squeezed Libby’s chest. She heard Max’s declaration of love, but she also heard his desire for a family. Her inability to have kids was a dormant hurt that lay just beneath the surface. When someone poked it, the torture took center stage. At the moment, she couldn’t accept Max’s love. All she wanted was to be left alone so she could cry or scream or throw things. She whimpered silently and tried to squelch another bout of sickness. “You’re saying that it doesn’t matter, but a person can’t change what their heart wants. Five years down the road it’s going to matter.”

Max shook his head repeatedly. “It won’t, Libby. I need you. You’re the one for me. And I’m not leaving until you tell me you feel the same way.”

Libby couldn’t think straight. And she wouldn’t make any life-changing decisions until she could get her thoughts in line. “You’re going to be sitting there for a long time then.” She loved Max, but he’d walked away at a critical point in their relationship. He’d made her crazy for over a month. She couldn’t just throw herself into his arms and forget the hurt. “I listened to every word you said about the demise of your relationship with Shari and something jumped out at me straight away. She wants the perfect life. And so do you. Your life will be perfect when you have a wife…and kids.” Her voice broke and she couldn’t finish.

Max looked as though she’d stuck a knife in his chest. He pulled up off of the bed. “Okay, Libby.” He leaned down and trailed his lips softly across her forehead. “I hope you feel better soon.” The dejection in his voice was almost unbearable. He headed to the door. “I’m going to turn my cabin key into Jiggs when he gets back from Florida next week.”

Doctor Shively patted Libby’s foot. “Wish I had some news for you, Libby, but the lab is backed up. It might be a while.” He looked over her chart. “It says that they asked if you could be pregnant and you said no.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Libby fought a whimper. “Sadly, I’ll never get to experience that miracle. Dr. Stevenson can vouch for that.”

Doctor Shively studied her with sympathetic eyes. “Well, you have all the symptoms of the flu. Until we know differently, we’re going to pump you with fluids and meds. You should be feeling better before too long.”

Libby nodded with acceptance. This nightmare would eventually end. “I know.”

The doctor fished a pen from the pocket of his white lab coat. “I’m going to write you a prescription that you should get filled on your way home. Take two tablets right away and one before bedtime. After that, one tablet a day should do the trick.”

Doctor Shively guided Libby to a prone position. “Libby, listen carefully. Your body is extremely fragile right now from all the vomiting.” His words were filled with kindness but also reprimand. “You should’ve been here after a couple days of throwing up. Since it’s gone on this long, we have to get you back on track. You have to eat—even if you have to gag the food down. When we get the results of your blood test back, and after the nurse charts that you’ve eaten something solid and kept it down for a few hours, you can leave. I suggest you follow up with your family physician. I think he needs to evaluate you, possibly recommend a vitamin regimen to build you back up.”

The doctor took his exit and Libby pulled to a sitting position. Vitamin regimen? How about a roll of duct tape for her heart and a pill to make her fall out of love? Although, the thought of not loving Max hurt almost as much as loving him.

Despite orders to stay in bed, Libby shuffled to the drawer that held her belongings; most especially, her cell phone. She punched in his number. Before sending out the call, she closed the phone. He probably wouldn’t answer. Who could blame him?

Libby climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up around her. Why did she always overreact? Why couldn’t she have forgiven him on the spot like she wanted to, instead of acting like witch-weevil? Gah! She sucked eggs when it came to relationships.

Laying her head back, she closed her eyes, and thought about her reaction when Max had walked into the room. The second she’d set eyes on him her heart burst into a series of somersaults. She should’ve paid attention to that instead of listening to the voice of caution that piped up with a reminder that he’d walked away with little explanation. It prompted her not to give in too easily. Of course, her stomach wanted a piece of the action and churned with discontent. She’d been torn between leaping into his arms and throwing up on him. Poor Max. He’d poured out his heart, begged for forgiveness, and she’d pretty much told him to take a flying leap off the nearest overpass. In short, she’d been a heartless witch. She expelled a long, pent up sound of exhaustion and frustration.

“I’m not even in the room yet and you’re groaning.”

Libby recoiled without opening her eyes. She recognized the voice of another heartless witch and deliberately drew in a sharp breath. “Built-in witch-detector,” she said, fluttering her lashes open with exaggeration and giving herself a mental pat on the back for zinging her ex-boss.

Amanda Slayte arched perfectly sculpted eyebrows and straightened the jacket of her tweed suit. “I deserve that, I guess.”

And then some
. Libby detected a sag in Amanda’s shoulders. “What can I do for you, Amanda?” There was plenty of vinegar in the question.

Amanda stood in the doorway, shifted from foot to foot, and wrung her hands. “I messed up, Libby.” She let her hands drop and corrected her slouched posture. “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Libby jabbed her with a hard stare. “That’s the worst apology ever.” It felt darn good to mouth-off to Amanda.

Amanda took a full step inside in the room. “I’m not great at apologies.”

“You’re not even good at them, let alone great.” Libby fought a laugh of all things. This was so not funny but a laugh was better than crying. And she would not grant clemency until Amanda came up with a better excuse. For the last two months she pictured how things would go if she bumped into Amanda. Libby was sure there’d be a terse exchange of words and possibly some hair-pulling. Now that the opportunity was there, she didn’t feel like giving Amanda the lashing she had coming, and certainly wouldn’t lower herself to hair-pulling. Libby eyed Amanda’s long, blonde hair and decided to keep her options open.

Truthfully, she wasn’t feeling the least bit vengeful, but Amanda needed to squirm.

“I never should have let you go. You were a good friend and a designing gold mine.” A loud exhale rolled from Amanda’s chest. “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

Again with the emotion bit. That wasn’t an explanation; it was bait. No way would she swallow the hook. “Soooo,” she drew the word out for effect, “you’re saying I’m not dead wood after all?” She’d read what had been written online and was pretty sure she knew who posted it.

Amanda turned a deep shade of red.

“You’re blaming your rash behavior on what, hormones?” Libby crossed her arms. “I ain’t buying it.”

Amanda’s loud wince was possibly the shattering of her confident veneer. Her shoulders drooped again and her voice vibrated. “Cut me some slack, will you?”

“You fired me, quit our friendship, and want me to cut you some slack?” Libby finally rolled her eyes. “You’ve admitted that you messed up, but I haven’t heard the words ‘I’m sorry’ or why you did it.”

Amanda crossed the room. “I’m sorry, Libby.” Tears glistened in her big, blue eyes. “I reacted badly to something that had nothing to do with you, yet it had everything to do with you.” She put her hand up like she was about to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her God. She inhaled loudly and exhaled the same way. “You’re going to think I’m weak and brainless, but here goes. The night before I let you go, Lance and I got into a big fight…about you.”