"Really?" Doubt continued to throw shadows over her expression.
Understanding, he stroked the hair off her face. "Don't you think I could tell what Ada had tried to do to you? What attracted me to you was your spirit, your refusal to be crushed by her. I was so goddamn proud to have you as my wife. You, not the well-bred, elegant doll."
"And I was proud to have you as my husband." Vicki's hand slid to rest on his shoulder. "Proud of what you'd achieved through sheer determination. Did you know I used to brag to the other wives about your successful cases? Sometimes, I'd go sit in the back of the courtroom to watch you work and think, he's mine."
Caleb's whole world changed in that instant. "Vicki," he whispered. No one had ever been proud of him. His family came to him for money but not one of them had ever said, "Well done, Caleb, well done." Not one of them had ever come to watch him defend a case. And not one of them had ever been so proud that they'd praised him to others.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."
He shook his head. "I'm as much to blame as you. I pushed and pushed like I always do." As a child, belligerence had been the only way he'd been able to make his father, Max, "see" him. As often as not, his stubbornness had sparked Max's temper, but back then Caleb had been desperate enough to value any connection with the man. The experience had scarred him, made him emotionally aggressive when dealing with the people who mattered to him, with Vicki.
"And I let you," she added, taking a burden that should never have set on her shoulders. "Every time I tried to speak about it, I'd get so nervous and when you began to soothe me and say we could talk about whatever it was later, I'd agree. But later never came."
Caleb wasn't going to allow her to let him off the hook so easily. "Honey, I knew you wanted to tell me something … I just didn't want to hear it. I thought," he dropped his head and owned up to his colossal blunder, "that you'd tell me you didn't want to be in bed with me. So I tried to change your mind each time." Another assumption, he realized, beginning to see the pattern in his dealings with Vicki.
Her eyes were huge. "What happens next?"
"I want to be married to you, Vicki." Nothing subtle would work now. "Do you want to be married to me?"
The pause was minuscule. "Yes." She took a deep breath. "Yes."
It wasn't the avowal he'd been looking for. But it was better than her earlier statement that they were still separated. "Then giving up is not an option." It had never been for him. And despite Vicki's ambivalence, he didn't think it had ever been for her, either. If it had, she would have taken his key when she'd kicked him out and refused to see him those times he'd come over or invited her to lunch. But she hadn't.
"Caleb…" She put a hesitant hand on his upper arm. "Do you want…? We can try again."
The vulnerability he could see shattered him. He knew that right now, he could ask for anything in bed and she'd try to provide it. But he didn't want his wife giving in to him because she was laboring under a burden of guilt. He wanted them to bridge this distance in the bright light of day.
"All I want is for you to sleep in my arms." He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Part of him—the part that had been deprived for years—whispered that he should take this chance, that it might never come again, that this emotional woman in his arms would be gone when morning arrived, replaced by the cool, elegant lady he barely dared to touch.
Troubled eyes met his. "Caleb, I can…"
"Hush." He moved onto his back, pulling her against his chest. "Sleep. This is enough for tonight." Despite the desperate voices urging him to take what she was trying to offer and not look back, he knew he spoke the truth. His wife was used to keeping her emotions well under control. And yet she'd come to him tonight.
Finally, she'd come to him.
* * *
Five
« ^ »
Vicki woke to the sound of Caleb showering. As always, she fantasized about going into the bathroom, stripping off her clothing and joining him in that steamy enclosure. What she'd give to run her hands over his soap-slick skin, to explore his beautiful body as she wished. But as always, she got out of bed and went to put on the coffee instead.
"One day," she muttered under her breath as she set the coffeemaker. "One day soon." She'd love to shock Caleb by joining him. He'd never expect that. And he was probably right—she didn't have the kind of sexual confidence it took to approach a man naked and vulnerable, assured that he'd accept, not reject, her silent invitation.
Getting the bread out of the pantry, she was struck by the appearance of her hands—the oval nails polished a pale nude color, the tasteful wedding band that was her only jewelry. It seemed to her that she was exactly like her hand—well polished, boring and without character. Not a woman who did exciting things like surprise her husband in the shower.
The scent of Caleb's woodsy aftershave warned her that he'd entered the kitchen. Without thinking about it, she turned and blurted, "Am I boring, Caleb?"
His eyes widened. "You might be a lot of things, honey, but boring isn't one of them."
"Tell me one thing I've done that's been out of the ordinary." She put the bread on the counter and frowned. "One thing I've done that you never expected me to do."
"You asked me for a divorce." He grabbed a couple of slices of bread and put them in the toaster. "Then you told me to go sleep in the guest bedroom—surprised the hell out of me and not in a good way."
She breathed in the just-showered scent of him and wanted nothing more than to pull him down by that sedate navy tie and plant a shockingly raw good-morning kiss on his lips. Caleb had always looked good in a suit. "Hmm," she said, staring at him as he reached up to get mugs from the upper cupboards. "Caleb?"
He put two mugs on the counter. "Yes?"
"Are we going to ignore last night?" She couldn't bear to pretend anymore. It was as if once she'd ripped open this scar she had to keep pushing at it to see how much it hurt, to check if it had healed any.
He faced her, tall, strong and masculine to the core. When she thought he'd speak, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She melted into him, clutching at his waist to keep herself upright. Usually Caleb let her control their kisses, but today he was kissing the thoughts right out of her head.
When they came up for air, his eyes were filled with a thousand emotions. "What do you think?"
Barely able to breathe, she pointed to the toaster. "Your toast's ready."
For some reason, that made him smile. "I made you a piece, too." He buttered the toast and put it to her lips. "You're eating for two now, Mrs. Callaghan."
The unbearably Caleb statement, care wrapped in action, made her smile. And that was how she sent her husband off to work. For the first time in a long while, they laughed as they kissed each other goodbye, looking forward to the night to come.
* * *
Once Caleb had left, Vicki went through some catalogues for the university and a nearby technical college. It had come as a rude shock during the separation to realize that without Caleb, she was a woman who did nothing useful, nothing that made her proud. With no client dinners to organize or cocktail parties to attend, no suits to be dry-cleaned, no husband to mess up the pristine house, she'd been slapped with the fact that part of her anger at Caleb came from her own uninspiring existence.
Her husband was a dynamo in the legal world, respected by colleagues and competitors alike. And what was she? A finishing school-educated woman of twenty-four. She kept up with Caleb by reading business journals voraciously so she could discuss things he was interested in. But how long would that sustain them? How long until it became clear to him that she had nothing original to contribute to their lives?
But her urge to do more wasn't all about pleasing Caleb. It was about her. Caleb and the baby were her life, her everything. Was that healthy? Would she wake up one day to find her child grown and Caleb buried in work, leaving her alone and adrift? Would she become like her grandmother, convincing herself that jewels and parties could fill the void where her dreams and goals, her self-respect, should have resided?
And what if their marriage failed despite everything? She didn't have a shred of doubt that Caleb would support her and their child, but she wanted to be able to take care of herself, wanted to be more than she was right now. It would have been one thing if she'd chosen to be a home-maker because it was right for her, but she hadn't. She'd just drifted into it because it was what Caleb seemed to want.
It was time to make her own choices.
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself that study was a good idea, she couldn't get past her need to do something. Another two or three years in academic limbo seemed like a life sentence after the years she'd already lost. But what could she do? What was she qualified for?