After That Night Page 27

  Mark felt euphoric.

  “Thank God,” Jenna whispered.

  She glanced at Mark. The relief in her eyes made him miss a couple of heartbeats. He wanted desperately to pull her into his arms, but he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d lost the right.

  “Can we see him?” she asked the doctor anxiously.

  “For a few minutes,” the man replied.

  Jenna gave Mark a small, hopeful smile. Then she turned and followed the rest of her family through the double doors.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ATLANTA’S GREENBRIAR HOTEL wasn’t the bland, functional kind of place Jenna was used to staying in when she traveled, but it didn’t have the Old World charm of the Belasco in New York City. The Greenbriar was bright and sleek, with lots of glass, mirrors and lush greenery. She suspected Mark had chosen it because his newspaper office was two doors away.

  She got on the elevator and punched the button for the penthouse. It seemed ironic to be in this situation again, heading up to the top floor of a hotel to see Mark.

  This was hardly the same, though. For one thing, she didn’t have on her best suit. Glancing into the mirrored wall of the elevator, Jenna realized that she couldn’t have looked less put together. Her hair was a dark, tangled mess. No makeup. She wore her oldest pair of jeans and the wrinkled blouse Petey had cried all over.

  The other difference was her mental state. Meeting face-to-face with Mark Bishop in New York to do that interview, she’d felt fearful and not up to the job. Inadequate.

  Today, however, her nerves fluttered with a certain uneasiness. Because for a couple of hours now the same thought had been running circles in her mind.

  Something in her relationship with Mark had gone very, very wrong.

  She had come here straight from the hospital. J.D. had already been sitting up in bed, hardy little creature that he was, annoyed because he’d have to wait until he got home tomorrow before he’d be reunited with his space cannon. She’d finally left him sleeping, with Dad sitting by his bedside and Christopher taking Petey home.

  J.D.’s accident had given her some terrified moments, but Petey’s state of mind had been almost as worrisome. At J.D.’s bedside he’d suddenly turned into a weeping, guilt-ridden mess. Around hiccuping sobs, he’d given a rambling account of what had happened at the park, particularly his part in it, and ended up begging J.D. not to hate him. J.D., never one to miss an opportunity, had graciously forgiven his brother, but Jenna had a feeling he planned to get a lot of mileage out of Petey’s remorse.

  The only problem to be dealt with now was Mark.

  She knew the incident had stunned and frightened him. One look in his eyes at the hospital had told her that. What she didn’t understand was why he’d left without a word.

  She glanced back in the mirror, realizing that one hand was unconsciously rubbing small circles on her abdomen. Come on, baby. Let’s find out what nonsense your father’s thinking.

  Jenna had to knock twice on the door to Mark’s suite; it took him that long to answer. When he pulled the door open, his expression was cold, detached. She studied his features, trying to see beyond the facade, wanting to see into his heart.

  He didn’t bother with greetings. “How’s he doing?” he asked. “The doctor said—”

  “He’s fine,” she reassured him quickly. “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation.”

  “Thank God.”

  She looked at him expectantly. “May I come in?”

  When he didn’t answer right away, her heart lurched. For one horrible moment, she thought he might actually refuse. He seemed so stiff and unapproachable.

  Finally he stepped aside so she could enter. The penthouse was all modern elegance—black and cream and burgundy. She hardly noticed, because she immediately became aware of two suitcases and a briefcase sitting beside the couch, obviously ready to be taken downstairs.

  She’d expected trouble, but nothing like this. She turned toward him, fighting to get the words out past the lump in her throat. “You’re leaving?”

  His gray eyes had gone so dark they looked black. The hurt there made her want to hold him, even as it made her want to slap him.

  “I’ve booked a flight back to Orlando,” he said. From the nearby desk, he lifted a cream-colored piece of stationery, then set it back down. “I was just writing you a note to explain.”

  “That would have to be one heck of an explanation,” she replied a touch acidly. She tilted her head, noticing that the stationery was still blank. “Doesn’t look like you got very far.”

  “I think it’s for the best.”

  “Best for whom?”

  “Best for all of us.”

  “I see. May I ask why?”

  He shifted, crossing his arms across his chest. “You were right. I can’t stick it out through the tough times. I don’t want the kind of responsibility that goes with having a wife and family.”

  The best thing in her existence besides her children, and he was deserting her. The thought fired her anger. It wasn’t going to end this way. Not if she could help it.

  She gave him a tight, narrowed look. “So you’re breaking your promise.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “What about the baby?”

  “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

  “Except a father.”

  He blinked at that. “I can’t. I’m not daddy material. I’d be no good at it.”

  “What about us?”

  “Us?” He repeated the word as though he derived some private satisfaction from disliking it. “We had fun. Some great sex.” He drew a deep breath, and Jenna knew he’d decided to take a tougher stance. “But I’m just exactly what you’ve accused me of being. I’m one of your frogs masquerading as a prince. A coldhearted bastard that you don’t need in your life. You had it right all along, Jenna.”

  They looked at one another for a long, silent moment. Then Mark snatched up a few toiletries that lay on the couch and began stuffing them into one of the side pockets of his suitcase.

  She swallowed hard. She wanted to cry, but then something took hold of her inside. This wasn’t Mark. This wasn’t the man she’d come to love. And she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  Quietly she said, “You told me yesterday that I wasn’t very good at pretending. I think you’re not very good at lying.”

  He jerked upright. “Don’t be foolish—”

  “I love you, Mark.”

  His lips parted in a hiss of exhalation. “Jenna, don’t—”

  “I love you just the way I told you I would. With all my heart. With every cell in my body. With everything in me that I have to give. You make me feel—”

  “Stop,” he ordered. “Dammit, just stop.”

  She shortened the distance between them until they were only inches apart. “Why? I’m not ashamed of it.” She gave him a small smile. “The funny thing is, I think you love me, too. Just the same way.”

  “I don’t,” he said with a sharp shake of his head. “And if you’d grow up and stop wanting some fairy tale—”

  “Believe me, I see you completely as you are. I don’t see you as my white knight. You make mistakes. You’re trying to make one now. I could list a half-dozen ways you drive me crazy. But you’re also the kind, decent, caring man I fell in love with.”

  As though something inside him suddenly snapped, Mark swung away. He paced over to the windows, turning after a moment to look at her. “I’m also the guy who nearly got one of your kids killed.”

  She could feel herself paling. “Is that what this is about? What happened to J.D.? Yes, it was frightening. Yes, we were lucky. But it was an accident, Mark.”

  “I was supposed to be watching them.”

  “So you’ll know better next time. Do you think I never screw up? It happens.”

  “Not to me, it doesn’t. I won’t let it.”

  Her chest hurt. She couldn’t seem
to breathe properly. The silence grew again. She began to hate this sleek, cold place. Finally she said in a quiet voice, “You’re a lot of things, Mark Bishop. But I never thought you were a coward. What are you so afraid of?”

  He walked back to her slowly. The look in his eyes was terrible, blank and without life. When he was directly in front of her, he gathered the hem of his polo shirt and in one smooth movement pulled it over his head so that he stood, bare-chested before her.

  “I’m afraid of this,” he said softly, pointing to the scar she’d noticed yesterday. In the bright light of day, it seemed larger, more jagged. “This is what my father did. Not through any intentional abuse. Just careless disregard for anything but his own interests. I was four.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the scar. “What happened?”

  “He was supposed to be watching me. But he’d had a fight with my mother, and she’d stormed out of the house. He needed a drink to calm down, and since I was playing in my room, he didn’t see any problem with leaving me there alone while he went down to the store. Only problem was, I didn’t stay in my room. I was running around and fell into the glass coffee table.”

  “Oh, God, Mark—”

  “It shattered into a million pieces. One of them pierced a lung. I nearly bled to death before Dad came home and found me.”

  She was speechless, filled with nausea. She reached out, gently running her fingers along the scar. Mark didn’t move, but his muscles twitched spasmodically under her hand. So much hurt here, she thought. And so much more than just physical…

  “I don’t want to be like him,” Mark continued. “I don’t want to hurt a child just because I haven’t got what it takes to be a good father. I tried to fool myself for a little while because I wanted it so much. But it just won’t work, Jenna.”

  Her gaze lifted to his. “You could never be like that. I’ve seen you. Your instincts are terrific. Your father might have been a self-absorbed son of a bitch, but that isn’t who you are.”

  “You don’t think so? Ask Pete. You heard him. He hates me.”

  “Petey tells me he hates me almost every time we have a disagreement. That’s what kids do. They say cruel things when they’re angry or scared. They want to hurt you before you hurt them.”

  “If you’d seen his face—”

  “I’m telling you he didn’t really mean it. He told me that what happened was his fault, that he’d deliberately run off with J.D. just because he was mad at you.”

  “You can’t brush it off that easily.”

  “I know my boys, Mark. They’re crazy about you. They need you.” She reached into her purse, suddenly remembering the note she’d stuffed in there this morning. Filled with the fierce, desperate need to make Mark understand, she unfolded the piece of school-notebook paper and pushed it toward him. “After you dropped me off at the house last night, I found this on my pillow. I was going to share it with you tonight, but I think you should read it now.”

  He took it from her, frowning at the childish scrawl. Petey had written the note the day of his success on the ball field, so he’d probably been feeling close to Mark. But J.D. had signed it, as well. Jenna knew it by heart already, and as she watched Mark read it, she remembered every word of it again.

  Dear Mom—

  We like Mark and think he would make a good daddy for us and the baby and a good husband for you, too. We worked hard to get him to come here. Now you have to be nice so he will stay.

  Love,

  Your Sons,

  Peter Rawlins

  James David Rawlins

  Mark looked up from the note. He seemed surprised, like a man coming suddenly awake in a strange place.

  “I think my father helped with the words last night,” Jenna said. “I realize that Petey wrote this before what happened today, when they were both excited from the game. Probably while we were…at the new house. But it doesn’t change things. He wants you in his life, Mark. Does that sound like a boy who hates you?”

  He scanned the note again. Instinct told her that she’d gained some ground, but was it enough to sway him? The agony of knowing that it could still go horribly wrong had begun to terrify her.

  “Well?” she prodded, trying for a lighter tone. “Just how ‘nice’ do I have to be to get you to stay?”

  He lifted his face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jenna.”

  “You won’t. Unless you go away now. Unless you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  “I want to believe you.” He shook his head. “God, Jenna, you don’t know how much—”

  “Mark,” she said, starting to feel panicky. Her voice broke with emotion as hot tears formed behind her eyes. “If it was just me, I think I could eventually accept the fact that you don’t love me enough to stay. I could be strong, raise this baby by myself. But please don’t hurt Petey and J.D. Please don’t do that.”

  She ducked her head, staring down at her clasped hands. Her throat hurt with the force of her frustration. A tear struck her wrist, large enough to be embarrassing, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered if she couldn’t make Mark understand.

  He was suddenly in front of her, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. “You think I don’t love you?” he asked in a voice that was thick and warm. “Right now all I want to do is show you how many ways I need you. When I think about you, I want everything—the magic, the music, all those romantic things that you treasure and I’ve been running away from my whole life.” He cupped her head in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away tears. “Do you know when I fell in love with you?”

  Unable to speak, she shook her head.

  “When you asked me if I wore boxers or briefs.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. “But that was right after we met.”

  He smiled at her. “You were the first woman who had ever made me question what I wanted out of life. I think that’s why I was such a bastard on the phone the next day. Anything to keep you from getting any closer.”

  She touched his face, trailing her fingertips along his chin as though trying to memorize every angle and curve. “Don’t go, Mark. Please. I love you so much.”

  He put his arms around her. “Jenna,” he said softly against her hair. “I love you. What can I do? I want to be everything you want. I want to change.”

  She pulled back, eyeing him seriously. “No, you mustn’t. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Who you are is the man I fell in love with. Please don’t change.”

  He grinned, rubbing his fingers against her chin. “We can make this work, can’t we.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but Jenna nodded agreement, anyway. “I’ve never been more certain of anything. It will be difficult sometimes. There will be moments when we’ll wish we could run away. But we won’t. Because we love each other. Because this is what we’ve both wanted all our lives.”

  He kissed her then, tilting her head back to make a sweet, unbearably gentle connection with her lips. Between kisses he said her name over and over, his embrace sure and loving. She took what he gave her and gave him everything she had in return.

  A long time later she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, full of dreamy contentment. “So it’s settled.”

  “It seems that way,” he said absently, still nibbling the skin along her jawline.

  “I do have one request,” she said. “Actually I think it’s more of a demand.”

  “Anything you want.”

  “I want a prenuptial agreement drawn up.”

  He looked quizzically at her. “What do you want in it?”

  “No lovers outside of the marriage. Ever.”

  “Of course,” he replied solemnly.

  “And your name, it has to come off that Ten Most Eligible list. You’re not on the market anymore.”

  “Princess,” he said with a laugh, “don’t you know? I took my name off that list the first day I met you.”

  EPILOGUE

  “HOLD STILL, swe
etheart,” Mark coaxed. “Only one more button.”

  “No, Daddy, no,” his daughter complained, making a face and pulling at the high collar of her red sweater. “Too hot.”

  Mark pushed Evie’s hands away gently and resettled her sweater in place. He probably shouldn’t bother to tell the child about the cold snap that had arrived the night before, throwing Atlanta into a chilly pre-Halloween turmoil after months of unseasonably warm weather. At two, Evie’s main concern these days seemed to be wearing as few clothes as possible.

  “It will be cold in the park today,” he explained. “You have to bundle up.”

  “Don’t want to,” the little girl replied.

  Refusing to cooperate was another one of Evie’s favorite things to do now that she’d hit what the parenting books called the “terrible twos.” Jenna swore their daughter had inherited his stubborn streak.

  “Sorry, sweetie pie. Daddy says you have to.”

  The child frowned darkly, but a moment later she toddled off happily to play with her toys, which were collected in one corner of the room.

  Mark watched her fondly. Evie was an achingly beautiful little girl. Sweet-natured most of the time, an infectious laugh, and smart, much smarter than most kids her age. The child he and Jenna had created that night in New York was everything any parent could want and more.

  With Evie finally dressed, Mark turned toward the window that looked out onto the backyard. When he and Jenna had bought the Victorian, he’d been sure he’d hate this backyard. Just like the house, it had needed a lot of attention, the kind of work he didn’t enjoy. The kind that called for an expertise he didn’t have. But he was a hopelessly easy mark when it came to making Jenna happy, so he’d gone ahead and signed the papers, then set about learning how to turn a crumbling eyesore into a real home.

  He knew every inch of it now. Especially this backyard. From the tiny garden he’d helped Jenna plant in the back corner to the small fish pond they’d put in to the fort he’d built for the boys in the cradle of the oak’s gigantic arms.

  Not all of its rebirth had been a rousing success. They’d had to call in his father-in-law to save the barbecue pit Mark tried to build. Before he’d figured out how to keep them out, owls and raccoons had carried off three of the Koi he and Jenna had brought home for the pond. And a month ago he’d begun a territorial war with some moles that seemed determined to chew up his new grass. It was a war the moles appeared to be winning.