“Who would do this?”
He wiped a hand over his face. Only then did she notice his tightly clenched jaw and the lines of stress bracketing his mouth. “I spent the afternoon trying to find out. Brock and I suspected Athos Koteas, Maddox’s rival. But it wasn’t him.”
“Then who?”
“My mother.”
Reeling, Renee staggered into the den and collapsed on the sofa. “Does she hate me so badly that to get to me she’d hurt you and malign the company that pays her bills?”
“I’m sorry, Renee. My mother has always been difficult, but I had no idea she’d stoop so low.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Renee gulped. She’d never had anyone treat her so viciously and had no idea how to react. Maybe she should call her mother. Lorraine had never been one for giving advice, but most of her mother’s relationships ended with the same kind of brutal emotional battles. Lorraine would know how to deal with this situation.
Never mind. Lorraine’s way of coping would be to ingest large quantities of booze until she forgot. Renee wasn’t interested in that kind of medicine.
But if her mother-in-law would rather humiliate her than admit she was a success, then Renee had to wonder what her child’s life would be like with a witch like Carol for a grandmother. No child deserved that.
Renee rose and paced to the window.
She loved Flynn, but the sperm bank wasn’t the most appalling part of her past. She couldn’t risk someone digging up the sordid details and hurting him even more. She had no choice. To take the heat off him and Maddox Communications, she was going to have to leave.
“I can’t live in a glass house, Flynn.”
“My mother isn’t going to cause us any more trouble.”
“You can’t know that.” Her heart ached. She blinked and swallowed the tears burning her eyes and throat. “I’m going back to L.A.”
“Good idea. Take a week. By the time you return this will have blown over.”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “I’m not coming back.”
He flinched. “What about the baby? What about us?”
She’d been devastated just hours ago, but maybe it was a blessing that she wasn’t pregnant. “I did a pregnancy test today. It was negative. I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon to tell you.”
The pain and disappointment on his face wrenched her. “We’ll try again.”
“I won’t raise a family in a verbal war zone. I’ve been there, Flynn, and I always swore I’d never do that to any child of mine. We need to end this—end us.”
She couldn’t risk repeating her mother’s mistakes. This time she’d been strong enough to resist the lure of the alcohol cabinet. Next time she might not have the strength. And what would having a drunk for a wife do for Flynn’s reputation? “I’ll have my attorney contact yours.”
Flynn caught her upper arms. The warmth of his hands penetrated her clothing, but did nothing to warm the cold knot forming inside her. She wanted him to hug her and tell her it would be all right. But she knew it wouldn’t. “That’s it? You’re just going to quit?”
“It’s better this way. Trust me.” A sob welled up inside her. She mashed her lips together to hold it in. It was because she loved him that she had to let him go.
“Trust you? Apparently, that’s the last thing I should do. At the first sign of trouble you run.”
Renee flinched, but she didn’t explain. Flynn might not enjoy working for Maddox Communications as much as he had the architectural firm, but the VP position was the one he’d chosen, and she had to support him in any way she could. And the best way to help him was to get far away and completely disassociate from him. With her history, having her around would always be a time bomb waiting to explode and damage Maddox’s credibility and reputation.
“I’m sorry, Flynn.” She brushed past him and raced up the stairs, hoping to reach their room—his room—before her tears started falling. She closed and locked the door, then frantically threw the necessities into her suitcases.
When she couldn’t stall any longer, she lugged her bags downstairs. Flynn stood stiffly in the den, hands in his pockets, staring out the window into the darkness.
Emotion choked her. She couldn’t have spoken even if she’d known what to say, and she didn’t.
How did you tell a man you loved him too much to stay?
You didn’t.
“I’ll send someone for the rest of my stuff.”
And then, for the second time, she walked away from the only man she’d ever love.
“Aren’t you joining us for Happy Hour at the Rosa?” Brock asked from Flynn’s doorway Friday evening.
Flynn looked up from the numbers on his screen—numbers he hadn’t really been seeing. His mind had been elsewhere. “No.”
Brock entered and closed the door. “It’s been four days since Renee left, Flynn. You have to pull yourself out of this funk.”
“You’re a fine one to talk. You look like hell.”
Brock held up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. And forget about me. I’ll be fine as soon as we catch the Maddox snitch. The team’s leaving in five minutes if you change your mind and want to walk down to the bar with us.”
Flynn’s head wasn’t into celebrating the end of another week tonight. “I won’t.”
“Your loss.” Brock reached for the doorknob.
“Brock, I can’t do this anymore.”
Frowning, Brock paused. “Do what?”
“Crunch numbers.”
“You need a vacation? Fine. Take one.”
“It’s more than that. I’m thinking long-term.”
“Flynn, you’re not thinking straight. You’ll get over Renee and—”
“That’s just it. I am thinking straight for the first time in a long time. And if I didn’t get over Renee in seven years, then I never will. She said something before she left about living in glass houses. She’s right. Madd Comm requires us to live our lives open to others’ inspection, commentary and judgment—even if it doesn’t make us happy.”
“That’s because our clients stand to lose a lot of money if we do something that violates their moral code or that of the people who buy their products.”
“I’m violating a moral code. Mine. I’m living a lie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I hate this job. I hate crunching numbers and pushing paper. I like designing, building, watching a plan go from a one-dimensional rough sketch on paper to a six-dimensional structure I can walk through, smell and touch. I’m happier slinging paint with Renee than I am inking multimillion-dollar deals for Madd Comm. I still love her.”
The realization had hit him like a runaway trolley car when he’d awoken alone in bed this morning. He missed Renee. Her smile, her energy. The way she encouraged him to follow his dreams and loved him even when he didn’t. Together they made amazing things happen. Without her he just went through the motions—living without living at all.
“You’ll get over this. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
Flynn shook his head. “Renee is right. Working here won’t make Dad proud of me or bring him back. I don’t want to pretend to enjoy this anymore. It’s time to live for me.”
“Flynn, don’t do anything rash.”
“This isn’t a rash decision. It’s all I’ve thought about since she left.” Flynn turned off his computer and rose with a sense of satisfaction swelling his chest, as if he’d finally gotten something right after he’d been working on it for a very long time. And he had. He’d finally gotten his priorities straight.
“I refuse to give strangers the right to decide how I live my life. I’ll have my resignation on your desk Monday morning.”
“Take the weekend to think it over.”
“There’s nothing to think over. I know what I want.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“I’m going to finish my architectural internship. I only had six months left when I quit. There will be some remediation, but frankly, even if I have to start over on day one and work through the whole five-year internship again, I’m willing. At least then, if I have to live alone, I’ll at least like the company I keep.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“No, Brock, I’m finally in my right mind. And I have Renee to thank for that.” He brushed by his brother on the way out the door.
“Where are you going?” Brock called after him.
“I’m going after my wife.”
Twelve
Tamara lingered by the door of Renee’s cottage. “Are you sure you don’t want to go camping with us this weekend? The girls would love to have you.”
Renee shuddered. “Your girls would love to laugh at me. I don’t camp. Bugs, snakes and I are not on friendly terms. I’d squeal and scream and, suffice to say, not be a happy camper.” Even though she was mentally and physically exhausted and heartbroken, she forced a light tone for her assistant’s sake. She’d been faking “fine” all week.
Tamara frowned and bit her lip. “Maybe we could go another weekend.”
“Don’t you dare cancel on them. Besides, we have events booked for the next four Saturdays.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Scram or you’re fired.”
Tamara stuck out her tongue. “You can’t fire me. You don’t know the secret ingredient in my salsa recipe.”
Renee laughed at their old joke. “No. And I would go out of business without that recipe. Go and have a great time. I’ll be fine. I’m going to tweak that carrot cake recipe.”
Tamara sighed. “Promise me you won’t work all night again.”
Renee grimaced. She’d been up late cooking every night this week. The local soup kitchen appreciated her efforts even if her assistant did not. “I promise I’ll be in bed before I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
Her reluctance obvious, Tamara finally left.
Renee scanned her kitchen and her gaze landed on her granny’s ladder-back chair. She found comfort in the familiar piece of furniture. It was as if her granny were here to guide her through this rough patch.
Monday, when she had her head together, she’d contact the appliance people about selling the equipment she’d installed in Flynn’s basement and try to recoup some of her financial losses. But this week…she just hadn’t been able to handle the idea of tearing down what she and Flynn had built together. Not yet.
With that decided, she turned back to her mixer and the notes she’d been making on the cake recipe. When the doorbell rang in what seemed like only a few minutes later, Renee glanced at her watch. Eight?
Three hours had passed since Tamara had left. Shouldn’t she and the girls be zipped into their sleeping bags or roasting marshmallows by now? But who else would drop by unannounced at this time of night?