One Week With Her Husband (Eden Manor Book 3) Read online

  None of it had come true.

  Silas reached out to touch the bottle gently, evidently remembering everything she was. “I think that was the night I knew I was in love with you for real,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Her voice broke. “Me too.”

  She’d been so sure of him—and sure it would last forever.

  It was like her seventeen-year-old heart had been broken—right now, more than ten years later, staring at an old champagne bottle.

  It hurt so much she couldn’t hide her response. She closed her eyes and turned away from Silas, her shoulders shaking helplessly.

  “Shit, baby,” he muttered, reaching out for her and pulling her against his chest.

  She cried into his shirt for a few moments as he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

  She managed to pull herself together fairly quickly, and she wiped her eyes as she withdrew from his arms. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “You always hated when I cried.”

  “You can cry all you want.”

  She sniffed and put the bottle back down on the ground. “You didn’t do this on purpose, did you?”

  “Do what?”

  “Arrange for me to catch that old bag.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. It just seems like a coincidence for me to drag that old thing back up today.”

  “Yeah. But coincidences happen.”

  She studied his face, but couldn’t read any particular sign in his expression. His eyes were soft, though.

  The memory had meant as much to him as it had meant to her.

  She met his eyes and then couldn’t look away. It was like he was Silas again—the real Silas, the one she used to know, the boy who had loved so fervently, who had felt things so deeply. Not the bitter man who had put up walls that wouldn’t come down.

  Without volition, her hand went out to gently touch his chest. He covered it with his own.

  Then he was suddenly pulling her toward him, taking her face in his hands.

  His lips claimed hers tenderly, almost questioningly, and it felt so good, so right, that she wrapped her arms around him.

  He made a throaty sound as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along the line of her lips and then into her mouth.

  Her head, her heart, and her body all throbbed with pleasure and excitement as she surrendered to the kiss.

  And then she remembered this was Silas. Her husband. Who had broken her heart in every way imaginable.

  She pulled away from him abruptly, hearing him grunt as the kiss broke.

  She gasped and rubbed at her mouth. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” He looked dazed and disoriented and aroused, like he couldn’t quite process that they’d stopped kissing.

  “Because that’s not going to do any good.”

  “It might.”

  “It’s over between us.”

  She shook her head and went back to her fishing rod and was straightening the line when Silas said, “It’s not too late, you know.”

  “What’s not too late?”

  “For some of those dreams to come true.”

  She had no idea how he’d known so precisely what she was thinking, but he obviously had. “It is too late.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m never going to be a superstar of the art scene.”

  He gave a half-shrug. “You never know.”

  “I know.”

  “What about your other dreams?”

  “Our marriage fell apart.”

  “Maybe not forever.”

  She shook her head. “We know better than that. Kissing isn’t going to fix things. And we’re never going to have a family.”

  “Maybe we could.”

  She was shaking again—from a different kind of emotion. “Don’t do this, Silas.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t pretend we can go back to what we were.”

  “I don’t think we can go back. I think we can go forward. And I think we can make it work this time.”

  “I get why you want to try, but we know how things ended before. I can’t do that again. I’m sorry, Silas, but I can’t.”

  He didn’t reply, and she was afraid to look at his face.

  Desperately needing to escape, she glanced at her watch and was relieved to see that more than an hour had passed. “I need to get going.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry about everything.”

  “So am I.”

  She couldn’t really read his voice, but that was actually a relief. She didn’t want to know if she’d hurt him. She just needed to get away.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  And that was it. She walked back toward the cabin, with Silas following a few feet behind. She made it to her car and got in, waving to him as she drove off.

  He stood watching her, and she let out a breath of relief when he was finally out of sight.

  She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She shouldn’t be feeling such excitement. She shouldn’t be feeling hope.

  But she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some way to put themselves back together again, if it could really be different this time.

  Thursday

  The next morning, Cassandra was exhausted and rather groggy, having not gotten much sleep the night before.

  She was staying with her parents and sleeping in her old bedroom, and she pulled a sweatshirt over her pajamas before she went downstairs for some coffee.

  Her father worked in the post office, and he was already gone for the day when she came down at six-thirty. Her mother was in the kitchen, though, watering her collection of house plants.

  “Didn’t you sleep well?” her mother asked, after Cassandra mumbled out a greeting and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

  “Not really.” Cassandra was grateful that her mother suspended the conversation long enough for her to pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the kitchen table.

  “What are you worried about?” her mother asked. “I’m sure you can find another job in New York, if you want to go back.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m sure I can too. I’m just not sure I really want to.”

  “Then move back home. You can live with us until you find a job. You know we’d be happy to have you.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “Why not be an adult who still lives with her parents?”

  “Don’t be like that. Everyone knows you’ve already done a lot with your life, and it would just be temporary. If you just need any old job to pay your bills while you work on your painting, then you could do that here just as well—and have a much lower cost of living.”

  “I know. It would probably be silly to go back to New York, since I don’t have much waiting for me there anyway. It was silly to move there in the first place.”

  “It wasn’t silly. It was something you wanted to do. Now you’ve done it, so you know what it’s like and you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering. It’s not a defeat if you decide that something else is a better fit for you right now.”

  “Yeah.” She sipped her coffee and tried to think through what she really wanted. She was at the point where she didn’t even know. “Everything seemed so clear when I was younger. I had everything I wanted in life all laid out in my mind. There was never any question.”

  Her mother’s expression was sympathetic, but when she opened her mouth, she closed it again without speaking.

  “What?” Cassandra asked, recognizing her mom’s hesitance.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It is something. You think I can’t read your face? What did you want to say?”

  “I was just thinking that maybe, when you were younger, what you wanted was laid out a little too clearly in your mind.”

  “What do you mean?” She
felt a familiar sting of defensiveness, but more than that was real curiosity.

  “It’s nothing bad—and it’s definitely not unusual. But you were so sure of what you wanted out of life that it made you…made you less receptive to other possibilities. We don’t always want what will truly make us happy, you know.”

  “I know.” She pulled her brows together, trying to remember back to what she used to be like. “I don’t think dreams are a bad thing, though.”

  “Of course, not. But your expectations were so high and so single-minded that…that I’m not sure…I’m not sure anything or anyone could have lived up to them.”

  Cassandra’s spine stiffened. “You mean Silas. You think it was my fault our marriage fell apart? Because I was expecting too much out of him?”

  “I don’t think it was your fault. It’s almost never just one person’s fault. But you were so determined to have a life that looked only one way—a big name in the art world, a family with lots of kids, a marriage that was always perfect.” Her mother’s face twisted. “I don’t think any of those things were wrong things to want, but I do wonder if…if you put some of that pressure on Silas.”

  Maybe because she’d gotten so little sleep, but Cassandra was close to tears now. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m sure he knows it too.”

  She breathed heavily as she stared down at the kitchen table, trying to think back to their marriage. Her mother might be right. So many times, she’d pushed aside Silas’s suggestions for her career because they didn’t fit the vision in her mind. She’d been heartbroken when they learned he couldn’t have children. She’d tried very hard not to blame him, but it had taken her a while to get over the grief and disappointment at what felt like a loss.

  He’d probably felt it. Maybe he’d thought she’d blamed him. Maybe that was why he’d retreated.

  “It’s not all your fault,” her mother said, evidently reading some of Cassandra’s emotional turmoil in her face. “He did his share too. He was the one who pulled away from you.”

  “But you think I…I made it worse.”

  “I don’t know. Only you and Silas can figure that out. I’m just saying that maybe it’s not so bad to not really know what you want out of life. Maybe that means you’re in a place now to really be open to what might make you happy.”

  “Maybe.” Cassandra swallowed hard. Her coffee cup was empty already, and she needed another cup, but she didn’t have the energy to get up to get one. “A little…clarity would be nice, though.”

  Her mother smiled and stood up, taking Cassandra’s mug to the coffee pot to refill it. “I know it would. Maybe it will come, though. Work on that mural at Eden Manor. Go see Silas every day this week like you agreed. Maybe the clarity will come.”

  ***

  Cassandra decided to go over to Silas’s first thing that day. She was afraid if she waited until later, the anticipation would consume her and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else.

  So she took a long shower and put on a printed cotton skirt with a simple knit top, telling herself it was a normal outfit and she wasn’t trying to look pretty for Silas.

  Her mother needed the car for errands, so Cassandra rode out to Silas’s cabin on her old bike. It was just a couple of miles but it had been a while since she’d ridden a bike, and she was more out of breath than she’d expected when she pedaled up the dirt driveway.

  She hoped she didn’t look too red and disheveled.

  Silas didn’t come out of the cabin or workshop as she set the kickstand of the bike. She didn’t have a horn to honk, so she called out, “Silas?”

  After a few seconds, he came out of the front door of the cabin wearing jeans and nothing else. He held a towel and was rubbing down his damp hair and beard with it.

  “You’re early today,” he said, glancing at his wrist, although he wasn’t wearing a watch.

  “Does it matter?” She suddenly felt uncomfortable, like she was intruding, like he might not want her here. She tried to keep her eyes from slipping down to his very masculine chest. “I didn’t realize you’d just be getting up.”

  “I’m not. I’ve been up for a couple of hours, but just took a shower. It’s fine.” He gestured her inside. “I was just thinking you’d come later, like yesterday.”

  “I thought I’d come first thing today.” She tried to keep her eyes to herself as she went in, but she couldn’t help but notice the rumpled bed in the corner, the toiletries on the counter of the bathroom she could see through the opened door, the dishes in the sink on the wall that functioned as the kitchen.

  It felt intimate, domestic, like she’d come into his private sanctum.

  Plus, he still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she couldn’t help but look hungrily at his broad shoulders, tight abdomen, the rippling muscles beneath the hair on his chest.

  Her body clenched in interest and ownership.

  “I was going to…before you came…” Silas seemed to realize he was holding a towel, so he tossed it toward the bathroom. “It’s fine. I’m glad to see you.”

  “What were you going to do before I came?”

  “Nothing.” He gave her his flash of a smile.

  She wondered if he’d been planning to prepare for her arrival, as he’d evidently done yesterday with the fishing rods. “Put a shirt on?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” He glanced down at himself. “I guess I could.”

  She fought a losing battle to keep her eyes up on his face. “That would be a good idea.”

  “A good idea from whose perspective?” His voice was light, almost teasing. “You don’t seem to mind seeing me without a shirt on.”

  She tried not to laugh and blush at the same time. “Shows what you know. But, seriously, if you need to finish getting ready, I can wait.”

  “No need.” He grabbed a shirt from the dresser and pulled it on over his head. Then he walked over to the kitchen counter. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure.” She’d already had two cups, but she could use another. She still felt rather dazed from lack of sleep and the surge of response from seeing him half-naked. “Thanks.”

  He poured her a cup and brought it over to where she stood near the table. He was very close to her as he opened her hand and wrapped her fingers around the mug.

  She swallowed hard and told herself to get a grip.

  He smiled, as if pleased with the situation.

  “There will be no kissing today,” she said.

  “That’s what you said yesterday.”

  “I meant it.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t look like you’re taking it seriously.”

  “I won’t kiss you,” he said, his eyes warming with humor and affection. “If you kiss me, then I can’t promise I’ll push you away.”

  “I’m not going to kiss you.”

  “If you say so.”

  “If you’re going to be obnoxious, I’m going to leave.”

  “Don’t leave.” His smile broadened until she couldn’t help but smile back. “Drink your coffee. I’ll be good.”

  She sat down at the table, since she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her much longer. Then she sipped her coffee as he sat down beside her.

  “I never heard if you were definitely going to do the ceiling of Eden Manor,” he said, obviously making an attempt at natural conversation.

  She appreciated the attempt and jumped in. “I am. I took the measurements and drew out the lines of the ceiling yesterday. I’ve already started planning it out.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “They want a sky scene.” She pulled out her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper, straightening it out on the table. “This is what I have so far.”

  He leaned over to study the paper with her, obviously genuinely interested.

  “They wanted clouds and birds and the sun,” she explained, “so I’ve penciled them in here. I’m not sure what else I’ll do.”


  Silas frowned as he looked at what she’d drawn.

  She sucked in a breath at his expression. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing is wrong with it.”

  “Well, something is wrong or you wouldn’t be frowning like that.”

  “It’s looks great,” he said, clearly trying to sound encouraging—although he’d never been any good at not saying what he thought. “It just doesn’t really look like you.”

  “I know it doesn’t yet,” she said, feeling a little hurt at his reaction, although she agreed with his assessment. “I haven’t finished planning it out yet. I’ve just put in what they wanted. They’ve commissioned it, you know, so I kind of have to do what they want.”

  “I know you do. But they’re paying you for your talent and creativity—not just for you to paint them clouds and birds. It doesn’t matter what other people think they want. If it doesn’t have you in it, then it’s not really worth doing.”

  “I’m going to put me in it,” she said. “I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

  She frowned down at her drawing, suddenly not liking it at all. She sighed. “Maybe I’ll start from scratch.”

  “You don’t have to start from scratch,” he said, his voice changing as he focused on the problem at hand. “Just tell me what this bird is doing flying so high in the sky. He’s a songbird, isn’t he?”

  She looked at the drawing and realized he was right. “Yeah. I guess he needs to be lower.” She erased what she’d had and drew the bird again, this time from a perspective much lower in the sky. He turned out to be a blackbird with a red patch on his wing. Then she decided the bird was looking for somewhere to perch, and she sketched out a branch, like a tree was growing just out of sight of the scene, and the branch extended into the mural.

  That gave her another idea, and she sketched the edge of a stone wall, like she was looking up at the sky from the middle of the walled garden at Eden Manor.

  “I like it,” Silas murmured, watching her progress with interest.

  She sketched out some more, getting lost in the composition.

  When Silas asked, “Is that a flying squirrel, or is he just able to levitate?” She hid her chuckle and slanted him an annoyed looking, drew out another branch for the squirrel to be perched on.