“What did you ask before?” she asked, trying so hard tosound sane as she huddled in the corner shaking.
Tony never moved, as if that were the most comfortableposition to be in. He was so close, Claire knew he’d wrap hisarms around her if she just asked him. She couldn’t. If shedid that, she’d give in to the shakes all over again, and she couldn’t afford that at all.
The kids. He’d asked about the kids.
“Oh, God...”
She had to get to her feet. John and Jess were due home,and she had to be pulled together for them. As Claire struggled with her balance, Tony straightened to his feet with thegrace of an athlete and held out a hand.
“The kids aren’t home, then?” he asked easily.
She looked up at him. A hand she could take. A handwouldn’t be too much.
“No... no, any minute.”
She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, whereshe swayed for just a second. She looked around, reacquainted herself with the kitchen of her little home. Pots,pans, white countertops and glass-fronted white cabinets.Herbs and baskets full of eggs and tin molds decorating the walls.
Every single item she had bought. Every single slap ofpaint she’d applied, along with the tree-of-life border sheand Jess had painstakingly glued on along the ceiling. A labor of love, of hope and progression. For just a split second, Claire couldn’t remember any of it.
The panic bubbled hot in her chest. Her throat ached withit. Her heart still thundered. She waited there, no more thanthree feet from Tony Riordan, and didn’t even see him. Shesaw her home. The report cards on the refrigerator alongside Johnny’s latest airplane sketch. The ceramic cat dish bythe stove Jess had fired in class. The soft Virginia darknessout her window, and beyond that the light from Peaches’scottage.
Safety. Sanity.
As if Tony Riordan standing in her kitchen were a sanething. Claire turned her attention to the refrigerator, ratherthan noticing that Tony knew just how much room to giveher when no one else in her life ever had.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice as shaky as her handsas she wiped more tears from her cheeks. “That doesn’tever...I don’t know what happened.”
He flipped on the fluorescent lights and waited as Claireblinked in the sudden glare.
“No,” he said. “I’m the one who should apologize. Ididn’t realize...” He shrugged, his sentiment implicit in hisexpression.
Claire saw the uncertainty, the chagrin, the regret. Shewanted to touch him, just as she would anyone. Shecouldn’t. She was still too close to the door into that roomwhere nightmares lived.
The light helped, though. Shadows fled, and with themher own uncertainty. White corners in a white room in thehouse she’d bought and restored and painted. Bright andclean and new. The world slipped back into place, andClaire found she belonged there.
“Nobody realized” was all she could finally admit to this man. All she’d admit to anybody these days. Then she tooka deep breath, because even that brought it too close right now.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
Simply. Sincerely. Claire fought the urge to hide in this man’s arms and instead opened the refrigerator door. “Itdoesn’t matter. Want a beer?”
“Thanks. That’d be great.”
She had just turned to hand it to him when the back doorslammed open. Tony jumped. Claire jumped higher, dropping the can. Beer exploded in an arc as it hit the tile.
In the door stood a six-foot-two Mr. Clean replica inshining mahogany, and his scowl was more formidable thanthunder. Claire shut her eyes for a second and willed herheart to slow back down a second time. She just wasn’t taking those little surprises well tonight.
“Peaches...” she all but growled.
“You okay?” he demanded, as if whatever he wasguarding her against was all her fault.
“I’m fine.”
“You been cryin’,” he accused, and Claire got her eyesopen to see that Peaches was focused on Tony like a bull elephant on a Volkswagen.
“It’s not his fault,” she told her friend.
That got a laugh. “‘S what they all say, ain’t it?”
