The Right Choice(45)
Author: Carly Phillips

She snuggled closer into his embrace. Letting him go would be harder than she had thought, but he’d never expressed an interest in anything long-term, never even indicated he’d want to stay. She ignored the little voice reminding her that she hadn’t exactly encouraged him, either.

Lacing his fingers through hers, he rested their hands together on her stomach. “I know you’ll finish that book and make me proud.”

He laughed, and the deep rumble passed right through her. “If I can get past my own family history, maybe.”

“I have faith, but we’ll see, won’t we?”

No, we won’t. Because he wouldn’t be around. “Will you be okay?” she asked, hating her unsteady voice and the trembling in her body.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

Carly closed her eyes, fighting the tears his touch inspired. She knew his promise wasn’t within his power to keep, but she let the words lie. She needed to hear them, to keep them close to her heart.

“You can handle this, Mike.” Bolstering his confidence, even when her own was flagging, was the least she could do for the man she loved. And she did love him. No sense in denying the truth to herself. Not now. “And once you go back, you’ll understand that. Everything you love is waiting for you.”

“Not everything.” His arms grasped her tighter, making it difficult to draw a breath.

She didn’t care. For tonight, his embrace was the only thing that mattered.

They lay in silence. The clock in the hallway mocked them as it loudly ticked away the moments of the night. With each passing minute, dawn came closer.

Carly didn’t realize she had dozed off. When she awoke, she had a stiff neck from her position on the couch. She knew without looking around.

Mike was gone.

He had kept his promise. He hadn’t woken her to say good-bye.

And they hadn’t made love, either.

* * *

For the next month, Carly indulged her need to mourn a relationship that was over before it had begun. She hadn’t mourned the loss of her fiancé, but Mike’s departure affected her in a much more profound way. He wasn’t just a man who’d passed through her life. He’d touched her life and made it better. He’d made her better.

She found it difficult to touch food; even yogurt and liquid wouldn’t pass the lump in her throat. She puttered around the bright kitchen and attempted to block out the memories of love, laughter and lobsters, without any success. So she turned her attention to her work, finding not solace but refuge from the painful truths that surrounded her.

But she couldn’t hide out forever. When she couldn’t stand the bright sunshine beating down on the beach since her own mood was so gray, she decided the time had come for change. Self-absorption and wallowing in pity wouldn’t solve anything. Like Mike, she needed to reclaim her life. As fast as she had packed up and traveled to the Hamptons, she repacked and headed for the city.

Once back in familiar surroundings, she pulled herself together. She contacted the school and put herself on call for students who needed summer counseling. She worked on both her book and some new column ideas until she was so exhausted that she fell into bed each night both mentally and physically drained. She met Juliette for dinner and drinks, some of her friends for lunch, and tried to resume her life.

But she still dreamed of Mike. His laugh, his sexy swagger, his lips on hers. Nothing distracted her and nothing came easily. Not even the book. Looking back on all the work she’d done over the summer, she found length but not depth. Oh, the friendship section had fared well enough, but not the relationship or family portions. She hadn’t expected them to be simple. But carrying Mike’s faith deep inside her heart, she’d managed to put together a rough draft of both. Though she wanted to be pleased, she couldn’t because the effort lacked heart. Perhaps because her own was so badly damaged.

With Mike gone and too many hours to fill, soul-searching became her favorite pastime. She needed to heal. Until she dealt with her irrational fears, she would never be free to commit to anyone or anything else. She couldn’t change how things had ended with Mike. She hadn’t asked him to stay because she knew how badly he’d needed to face his past, and how much he loved his career.

And because she hadn’t had the guts.

Despite the fact that she’d turned off the air-conditioner in her apartment, she shivered and wrapped herself in a blanket to ward off the chill. She rose and headed for the kitchen. A hot cup of tea would warm her inside and out. After fumbling around, she resettled herself on the couch.

The teddy bear Mike had won in Playland stared at her with large, accusing eyes. The beautiful memories paraded through her mind and settled in her heart.

So did the guilt. She’d allowed Mike to enter a dangerous situation without telling him the truth. She loved him. Whether or not she was capable of committing to that love, regardless of the fact that he hadn’t been, he’d deserved to know.

What if something terrible happened again, only this time he didn’t make it? Then he would never know someone in his life truly loved him.

Loved him and essentially abandoned him, just as he believed his parents had. Laying her head in her hands, Carly wept. For Mike and for herself.

* * *

There was no way she would let her past control her future. Carly drew a deep breath and followed her father into his study. The decision to come here hadn’t been easy, but it had been inevitable. She couldn’t find herself as a person or have a life if she was still mired in her adolescent pain.

She knew without asking that she and her father would have the opportunity to talk in private. Her mother hadn’t missed a weekly card game in fifteen years. Carly glanced around at the rich mahogany bookshelves her father had had installed when he’d moved out of the city to Westchester County. Though he still kept his apartment in Manhattan, it was more a place for weekend stays and work emergencies than his home.

She glanced around. Nothing in this room had changed since she was a teenager. Nothing and everything, just like her life. She clenched her fists. Her father stood across the room, obviously waiting for her to speak. When it became clear she didn’t know where to start, he cleared his throat “I was surprised when you called and asked if you could come. Most daughters don’t need permission to visit their fathers.”

She turned to face him. “I’m not most daughters… and you’re not most fathers.”