I didn’t want to bring that up. If it’s true, Maxi would know, and I’d be able to see it in her eyes. “I just didn’t.”
He scratches the stubble on his chin. “I have something to tell you. I wanted to say it the other night, but you wouldn’t let me.”
I remember that moment and want to stop him again. “Go on.”
“Clifford and I argued the night before he died.”
That was just hours before he changed the trust fund—a coincidence, nothing more. How many times do I have to remind myself of that? “And this argument was about what?”
“You.”
“Why would you and Clifford argue about me?”
“We went to a nightclub on State Street and had dinner and a few glasses of whiskey. We probably had a few more than we should have, but the disagreement started when he asked me to look after you if anything happened to him.” Tully rubs his fingers over his mouth. “I told him that’s a brother’s job, and added that nothing would happen to him.”
“You disagreed about that?”
“Could you let me finish?” Tully glares at his camera bag as if he can peer through the leather to the photos inside. “He claimed to know my deepest secret and, out of the blue, told me I had been in love with you—his wife—since I was fourteen.”
“What did you say?”
“He was right.” Tully stares into my eyes. “But it was just a boy’s crush.”
His bright eyes and flushed cheeks compel me to look away. How long has it been since we shared a moment of tenderness? “You had feelings for me?”
“Be serious, Vivian Jean. Please.”
For the first time in ages, our eyes meet, free from malice or fear. “I am. I didn’t know.”
He chuckles. “Anyway, he made a big deal about my not having had a serious relationship, but I reminded him I wasn’t the marrying kind.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t sound like an argument. You said you two were drinking and lost track of common sense, which is what it sounds like. Clifford and I barely saw you after we got married. You were on the road, traveling back and forth across the country, playing baseball for two years straight.” I pretend to laugh. “When did this great love affair happen? When you only showed up for Christmas dinner and my birthday?”
“I never missed your birthday,” Tully says quietly.
“A coincidence.”
“Now, what did I say about coincidences?”
“Tully, please.”
“Clifford kept pounding on me. He wouldn’t drop it. He called me a liar. And with so many whiskeys in me, I confessed. I told him I loved you and couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Not as husband and wife.”
Words escape me. How could this have happened? How could I have missed his feelings? He was a friend before becoming my brother-in-law or my husband. All I can do is slowly and methodically shake my head, pressing a finger to my temple to ease the throbbing pain in my head.
“Two weeks after the funeral, you found out you were pregnant, and the major insisted that a Hartfield man had to raise a Hartfield child.” Tully uncrosses his legs and stands up. “We were married, and it was so easy to be with you. It felt like coming home to the heart I thought I didn’t have.”
“Oh, Tully. I loved Clifford, but I fell in love with you, too, and it didn’t happen overnight. Don’t you remember the first months we spent together after my miscarriage?”
He was the reason I survived after I lost the baby. He saved my life. His kindness, his attentiveness, and his understanding. His unwavering support helped me through the bleakest hours and guided me toward rediscovering myself and, ultimately, my heart.
I extend my hand. “Help me up.”
He does.
Standing before him, I gently cup his chin. “I know you feel guilty about how much we care for each other, and I do, too. But I refuse to think that Clifford thought you and I were having an affair. He never said that to you, did he?”
Tully closes his eyes. “He didn’t have to. He wrote it in the note.”
