Women's fiction with depth, humor, and heart

I studied Ian across his suitcases, the husband I'd vowed to love, the man I could barely talk to any more. And he studied me, his jaw set and his eyes distant, as if he'd retreated somewhere inside, somewhere I couldn't follow, somewhere safe from me. The urge to knock his suitcases aside and fall into his arms flooded me, but I resisted. We weren't like that any more, and hadn't been since December.

"Well, I should get in there," he said. "They warned me the customs check will take ages."

I nodded. "You're sure you have everything?"

"I hope so." He paused as if considering what he had to bring, then said, "I'll miss you, Candice."

"I... I'll miss you too," I said, feeling tears rising at the realization that we were both embarrassed to admit to even this much emotion. How had we, who'd seemed so perfect together, lost each other so completely?

"Enjoy having time to yourself," he said, his voice stilted.

I intended to use at least part of Ian's four-week absence to decide whether our marriage was salvageable, and I didn't think 'enjoyment' would be any part of that process. "I'll try," I said, then added, to lighten the mood, "but Ninja probably won't let me."

"You tell him who's boss," he said, giving me a wry smile.

"He already knows he is," I said, attempting to return his smile. Attempting and failing. "Ian, I--" The tears choked me and I stared at him, unable to find the words to say how sorry I was for how wrong our lives together had become, for the gap between us that I couldn't see how to bridge.

He pulled me as close as he could over the suitcases, his hand smoothing over the back of my head and down the length of my hair. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent of fabric softener and lumber. Only the wife of a carpenter would find the smell of wood sexy. Ian's arms around me had always been safety, security, but since the car accident there'd been no safety to be found.

Ian gave me one last squeeze, then pulled back to look into my eyes. "I love you, you know."

We hadn't said that for a while either. "I love you too." And I did. I knew I did. I just didn't feel it any more.

He dropped his head and said, without looking at me, "Think they'd be proud of me?"

"For sure," I said, forcing the words out past the sudden lump in my throat. He barely mentioned his parents any more. "They were thrilled you took on this project and they'd be so happy for you today. You're doing a great thing."

He stood still for a moment then bent and gathered the pull straps of his suitcases into one hand. "Email me tonight and I'll write back as soon as I get settled. Drive carefully, okay?"

Before Christmas Eve, that had been just a casual comment, a throw-away. After his parents' deaths, it meant a lot more. "I will. I promise."

He put his hand on my cheek and leaned in to kiss me. His mouth on mine was as warm and sweet as ever, but the sense that he was only kissing me because he knew he should made me uncomfortably relieved when he pulled away.

After a few steps toward the airport entrance he turned back and said, "Check the glove box."

"Why?"

"Sometimes things crawl in there and hide."

"In the car?"

"Might want to be where it's air conditioned," he said. "To avoid the heat."

"Ah," I said, and we smiled at each other, almost shyly, then he dragged his suitcases behind him into the airport. He didn't look back.

Once he was out of sight, I popped open the car's glove box, picked up the plastic bag that tumbled out, and peered inside to see a small white face peering back at me. I blinked back tears as I pulled the bear from the bag. Ian liked to tease me about my polar bear obsession, but he knew how attached I was to them. This one was adorable, soft and plushy with its arms open as if waiting for a hug. I couldn't quite bring myself to hug it in public, but I settled it into the passenger seat, fastening its seatbelt tightly, to keep me company as I drove to work.

Before I joined the steady flow of Toronto airport traffic, I shot a quick look in the opposite direction as well, making sure none of the other drivers were doing something unexpected. Ian always did this extra little check while driving, and it had become a habit for me too, ingrained by his constant reminders.

My cell phone rang after I'd been on the move a minute or two, and I scrambled to find it in my purse while still keeping my eyes on the road. Could something have happened to Ian? He'd verified at least ten times that he had all the documentation he needed, but--

I glanced at the phone's screen and relief swept me. "Hi, Lou."

"If Ian's not gone yet, I can--"

"No, I'm just leaving the airport. I should be there in an hour or so."

"Sounds good. We have a new client you need to meet."

"I met him on Friday," I said, surprised Lou didn't remember.

"Not that one. The new new client."

"Another one? I thought we were booked solid."

"I know we are, you know we are, but Richard doesn't seem to be able to remember."

"Ah." There was nothing more to be said. Richard owned Sapphire Interior Design and was constantly on the hunt for new clients. Richard worked only for the most affluent and influential clients, Lou took care of the firm's restaurant design work, and I took care of whatever Lou assigned to me.

"Exactly. He'll be here at eleven, so if you can make it back by then it'd be great."

I glanced at the car's clock. Almost ten. "Should be fine. Close to it, anyhow."

"Come right in to my office when you get here, okay?"

"Will do." I hung up, and gave such a huge sigh that I made myself a little light-headed. I'd been hoping for a quiet day with no surprises, a day where I could sit at my desk and do easy tasks and not have to be cheerful and enthusiastic for some new client.

The drive to the office, unfortunately, bore no surprises: no matter what time I took the highway it was always insanely busy and today was no exception. I felt my shoulders getting tight and painful as I drove, and by the time I reached the office's parking lot I'd developed a headache. A perfect addition to the day.

When I pushed through the heavy mahogany double doors, the office was empty. Coffee break time. I walked past the assistant designers' desks, my steps echoing on the polished white marble, then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall surrounding Richard's office looking rather wild and wooly. I'd forgotten my hair was down; Ian liked it loose but I thought it was far too out of control for work. Or for any time, really. Its weight pulled it straight to just past my chin, where it exploded into waves that reached the middle of my back. I thought long hair was prettier, though, even though mine was uncooperative, so I kept it in all its uneven dull brown 'glory'.

My mascara hadn't run, but then I hadn't really cried when Ian had left. I would have, a year ago. The lip gloss I'd put on in the morning was gone, though, so I gave myself another quick slick, pulled a big gold-colored clip from my desk drawer and twisted my hair up, then tucked my purse under my desk and knocked on Lou's door.

"Come on in."

I did, and froze in my tracks in the doorway. It couldn't be. It couldn't be him.

But it was.

Lou waved me to the other visitor chair and I sat down, struggling to keep my face calm. Taking his own seat behind his mahogany desk, Lou said, "Kegan, this is my assistant Candice Warburton. Candice, this is Kegan Underwood, our newest client."

Kegan turned sharply toward me when Lou said 'Warburton', but he just smiled and said, "Nice to see you again," holding his hand out to me. Our eyes met as I shook his hand, and a sparkly shock rippled through me. I took back my hand as quickly as I could.

Lou's eyes flicked from Kegan to me and back again. "You know each other, I take it?"

I swallowed hard. "It's been a few years, but yes."

Ten, to be exact. Ten years since he'd ripped my heart out and left me in pieces. And, my God, those years had been good to him. He looked older, but in a good way, strong and more mature. His dark hair was shorter, swept back from his face, and he was deeply tanned. His eyes were the same, though.

I wondered how I looked to him. My hair was a lot longer, and I'd put on a few pounds since I'd seen him last. I hadn't worn makeup at all back then. Did he think I looked good? I forced the thought out of my mind. His opinion meant nothing to me.

Kegan smiled. "Small world, isn't it?" Those blue eyes, just as magnetic as I remembered, seemed to be searching my soul. I had no proof, but I knew, I just knew it wasn't a coincidence. Kegan had come here for me. At the worst possible time. I said nothing, turning away from him.

Lou, rifling through a folder stuffed with papers, said, "Yup. Small. Look, if we're going to meet your deadline we really need to get a move on."

"What is the deadline?" I said. My voice felt strange and tight, and Lou looked at me. "Are you okay, Candice?"

"I'm fine," I said, dragging myself together. If Kegan realized how he was affecting me, he'd gain a victory I didn't want him to have. "It's just been a rough weekend." I could have strangled myself.

Lou smiled at me. "I'm sure it has." Turning to Kegan, he said, despite my begging him mentally not to, "Candice's husband has just left for a one-month stay in Bangladesh, volunteering with a charity. They'll be building a ... a house and a one-room school, wasn't it, Candice?"

I fixed my eyes on Lou's face so I wouldn't have to see Kegan's. "Yes. That's the plan, anyhow."

"That's wonderful," Kegan said. "Very noble."

I wasn't going to discuss my husband with Kegan. "Yes, I'm very proud of him. Back to work, though. The deadline?"

"September fifteenth," Kegan said. Shocked, I turned to him without meaning to.

"Six weeks?" Lou and I usually spent at least four months getting a new restaurant planned and ready to open. I worked with the clients at the beginning to help them define their vision, and Lou created the designs to make it happen.

"That's right," Lou said, throwing a 'no scaring the client' look in my direction. "Kegan knows it's a rush job, but I've assured him we can handle it." He turned his attention back to his papers, and I forced myself to look at Kegan. If I was going to make it through this, I had to get used to the sight of him.

Our eyes met, and I was twenty-one again, head over heels in love for the first time, hearing him tell me why he was leaving, why I wasn't good enough for him. Was he thinking the same thing? Probably not.

Kegan shot me a wink, the same sexy little wink that had always made me blush and giggle. My cheeks burned once again, but this time it was from a sudden fury. Nice try, but it's not going to work. I was not going to be won over.

Lou looked up and began speaking about the schedule, and I focused on him like a starving woman on a nice juicy steak. "Candice, I've already told Kegan I won't be fully available this week. You're his contact until at least Thursday. Anything he wants, you'll make sure he gets."

Anything?