“Was it raining?”
He shook his head. “The night was clear, but it was late.” Although she couldn’t have fallen asleep. They’d been in the middle of their argument when they’d crashed. He knew that for certain. Nothing had been resolved. Evelyn, perhaps the only person he’d ever loved, had died thinking him a complete bastard. The hell of it was, she was right.
“I’m sorry,” Cathy said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
He dismissed her comment with a wave. “It’s fine. The accident was a long time ago. I don’t mind talking about it.” Another lie. Another familiar companion. At least their conversation had one desired effect—the need he’d felt had faded, along with the physical manifestation. Perhaps it had never happened at all.
The phone on his desk rang. Cathy stood up. “I’ll let you take that,” she said, and walked out of the room.
He picked up the receiver and dealt with the call. Then he sat alone in the office and thought about what he should do next. Cathy had seen his face and she hadn’t been disgusted. Perhaps now they could spend some time together.
The spark of pleasure he felt at the thought was different from desire, he told himself. Safer. He was only interested in being her friend…in helping her get her life back together. Nothing more. Friendship was allowed. That was how he’d set the rules.
He rose to his feet and crossed to the window. The grounds were beautiful in the spring afternoon. Flowers bloomed, the bright colors contrasting with the green leaves and lawn. The house was a showplace. He hadn’t much cared when they bought it, but Evelyn had been excited about the purchase. The huge mansion had been a far cry from the double-wide trailer where she’d grown up.
He would have given her the moon, if he could have. Because he couldn’t give her the one thing she’d wanted from him. He’d tried to be a good husband. Spending time with her had been easy. After all, she’d been his best friend. But that wasn’t enough. Affection, even love. They couldn’t make up for the simple truth—he’d never wanted her the way a husband was supposed to want his wife.
He closed his eyes, but it was too late to stop the memories. They flowed into his mind, as inescapable as the tide. Flashes of them growing up together. The way they’d always studied for tests together, first in high school, then in college. He smiled faintly, remembering his outrage when she’d done a little better. Not enough to make a difference, but a couple of questions here, a couple there. She’d been smart, and he’d respected that.
His smile faded. Maybe his mistake had been in trying to get around his family’s wishes. A couple of years after he’d graduated from college and joined the family firm, his parents had picked out a young woman for him to marry. Someone suitable. At least in their minds. He’d rebelled. His lone rebellion in an otherwise agreeable existence. He’d wanted to marry for love. Barring that, he’d wanted to marry someone he could respect. On a whim, he’d proposed to Evelyn.
The second she’d accepted, he’d known. The truth, carefully concealed until that moment, had brightened her eyes until the light had nearly blinded him. He didn’t know when she’d first fallen in love with him, when the bonds of friendship had become something else for her. Something more romantic. He’d known instantly that marrying her was going to be a mistake, but it was too late. He wouldn’t have hurt Evelyn for the world.
Instead, he’d killed her.
The pain began behind his eyes and moved through his head. There was no physical cause, he knew. It was guilt. Oh, he hadn’t been driving the car, nor had he actually caused the accident. He’d done worse. He’d betrayed her.
“Don’t go there,” he said aloud, but it was far too late.
He saw them on their wedding day; Evelyn’s happiness had surrounded her with a nearly visible glow. He felt her body under his later that night. She’d been sweet and pretty and had all the right curves, but he’d never wanted her. The first time had been difficult for him, and it had never gotten better. He’d made love—enough, he’d thought, but he’d been wrong about that, too. She’d sensed his disinterest and over the years it had destroyed her self-confidence. While she’d talked of children, he’d tried to think of ways to tell her it wasn’t going to last. It couldn’t. He couldn’t give her what she deserved. But to let her go meant losing his best friend. He didn’t know what life would be like without her.
Everything had been destroyed anyway that last night. That damn night. His hands curled into fists as the self-loathing filled him. He’d had too much to drink. It wasn’t an excuse—he knew that. But it was all he had.
He remembered standing alone in a corner of the party. One of his client’s wives had come over to him. The woman—he couldn’t even remember her name—had been attractive and obviously interested. Stone had felt a spark of response.
He’d known it was wrong and stupid and beneath him. Yet he’d let her lead him into the back room, and when she’d kissed him, he’d kissed her back.
He remembered thinking all he wanted was to feel a flash of passion. He had no intention of bedding the woman. No matter how bad things were with Evelyn, he wouldn’t have done that to her. The kiss had been mildly pleasant, not memorable, except it had shown him it was time to come clean with his feelings. He was playing his best friend for a fool. She deserved better than that, and better than him.
He’d put his hands on the other woman’s shoulders. His intent had been to push her away. Then he’d heard it. The gasp of surprise. He’d looked up and seen Evelyn standing in the doorway, staring at him.
She’d been so pretty that night. Her silky blond hair pulled back into a chignon. The sleeveless black dress had shown off her curves perfectly. Curves he couldn’t make himself want. She’d stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. Perhaps she never had. He’d never betrayed her before except perhaps when he’d proposed on a whim.
He’d destroyed her. He knew that now. If they hadn’t been arguing on the drive back, they probably wouldn’t have gotten into the accident. If only…He had a thousand of them. All useless after the fact.
“Evelyn,” he said aloud. “I’m sorry.”
But the apology merely faded into the silence of the room. It was too late for that. Evelyn was gone, and all the apologies in the world weren’t going to bring her back.
* * *
“Mr. Ward wondered if you would care to join him for dinner tonight,” Ula said.
Cathy looked up from the book she’d been reading. She was in the library on the first floor of the house. For a second, she just stared at the housekeeper as her mind absorbed the words. “Stone wants to have dinner with me?” The last word came out as a squeak.
The older woman smiled. “That’s what he said. About seven, if that’s convenient.”
Convenient? As if she had a social calendar that was close to full? “Sure, no problem.”
