He stopped and smiled at the unbidden memory that arose on doing so.
Jane had always loved secretly watching him bite on that nail while he was lost in thought. She said the way his hair fell part of the way across his right eye made him look sexy. She loved his blue eyes anyway, but she admitted she found them most irresistible “when they were reflecting mysterious thoughts.” What she loved even more, though, were his hands. She used to say they were strong and masculine yet sensitive and artistic. She loved the way they held a coffee cup and the way they held her—especially the way they looked on her bare skin.
Hearing Daisy stir in the other room, Ethan shook off the memory and sighed as he sat back, the leather chair exhaling beneath his weight. He loved the earthy scent of that leather. It made that particular chair his favorite place to sit in the entire house. Rubbing a hand over his torso, he smiled, thinking about the lunch he had devoured earlier, and before he knew it, his mind began replaying eating chocolate chip cookies that day he and Daisy had met Rachel.
He wondered where she was now, the woman with his ring. Was she still in New York, tending to her injured boyfriend, or back in Ireland? The day after tomorrow was New Year’s Eve, and she’d mentioned she ran some kind of restaurant, so surely she would have to return to that soon?
Ethan checked his watch. It was late but not that late if she was still in New York. Should he try her number again and just come out and explain everything this time? Then again, he couldn’t imagine upsetting her in such a way, particularly with all the strain she was under. She’d seemed like an especially lovely person, kind…warm…with such an infectious laugh and eyes that sparkled.
Immediately, he shook the feeling off. It was almost Daisy’s bedtime, so really there wasn’t enough time for telephone calls and explanations now. He stood up and went to check in on his daughter.
“Almost ready for bed?” he asked from her bedroom doorway. If there was one thing he had learned about raising an eight-year-old girl, it was to never enter without announcing himself or asking permission.
“Come in, Dad. Just drawing,” she said, sitting on the bed in her nightgown.
“What are you drawing?” he asked.
“Just my favorite memories from our trip,” she answered without looking up. There, scattered around her, were page after page of scenes from their time in New York. “I want to show them to my friends when I go back to school.”
Ethan sat carefully on the edge of the bed so as not to disturb his little artist at work. He surveyed the pictures of the moments that were apparently special to her. There was one of her sitting on the plane next to him, another of the Statue of Liberty, one of the two of them walking down what he suspected was Fifth Avenue, their view of Central Park from the hotel, and the Christmas lights on Park Avenue. Then, oddly, one of him tending to Knowles after the accident.
“You picked this as a good memory?” he asked, holding up the picture.
She nodded. “Yes, Dad, because everyone says you and me were heroes that day.”
He smiled weakly. “I suppose we were.” Then he spotted another drawing, this one of a trio at a table eating chocolate chip cookies and smiling. At first, he’d thought it was a representation of the two of them and Vanessa, but it quickly struck him that the hair color was wrong.
He raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Daisy asked, looking up. “Don’t you like them?”
“They’re beautiful. So is Vanessa in any?”
“Yes, here,” she said, pointing to a picture of three people sitting around a Christmas tree. Sure enough, there was Vanessa, but sort of tucked halfway behind the tree.
“Ah, yes. I see her now,” he said. It wasn’t lost on him that what had to be Rachel’s depiction was smiling, front and center in the picture, whereas Vanessa pretty much blended into the background. “Did you have a good time, poppet?”
“Yes, very much.” She sighed and shook her head. “You already asked me that so many times, Dad.”
“I know. I suppose it just didn’t turn out exactly as we expected, did it? I still have to get the ring back and ask Vanessa to marry me. Are you still okay with that? You know, do you still think that’s a good idea?”
She nodded. “Of course. I don’t think she had a very good time in New York, though, but I suppose that could change.”
Ethan grimaced. He’d half hoped that Vanessa’s distant behavior had almost been a figment of his imagination, but it seemed not. “It was a bit topsy-turvy, our trip, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Daisy paused and looked at him. “Dad, didyouhave a good time? I mean, if you drew a picture of your favorite memory, what would it be?”
“Well…” Ethan was stumped. For a moment, he honestly couldn’t think. Then he chuckled. “I suppose it would have to be the one of me force-feeding you M&M’s on our last night. Here, give me a piece of paper and one of those crayons.”
Daisy giggled with delight. Then, when Ethan was done with his own rendition of their chocolate feast, she raced into the kitchen to place it prominently on the fridge door along with her own, where Ethan had every intention of letting each one stay until the edges were yellowed and cracked.
Chapter 18
“I’m telling you, I don’t know how it happened,” Gary said, crouching down as he tightened the last bolt on a new fuel line he was installing on his motorbike.
He was glad to be back home, a wrench in his hand and a beer on the concrete garage floor. It had been a long flight across the Atlantic with his broken ribs, but at least not as long as the bloody hospital stay. He shrugged and looked at his best mate, Sean. “Sometimes, when you see the cards you’re dealt, you’ve just got to bluff and keep your poker face on.”
“Well, you could have knocked me under a bus when you told me you were getting hitched, but with the way things panned out, I suppose you couldn’t do much about it.” Sean guffawed. “Anyway, you could do worse than Rachel, you know. You’ll never go hungry,andyou get to have those curves in your bed every night.” He grinned and raised the beer can to his mouth. “I suppose one of us had to take the plunge soon enough. Hate to admit it, you bastard, but you’re looking at a win-win.”
