Her gaze flew to his, the surprise there making him want to curse.
“I love you,” he repeated, more forcefully, framing her face in his hands.
But she didn’t relax, didn’t lean into him. Her eyes swam with unshed tears and her voice was a ragged whisper. “But not enough.”
“What?”
“You love the idea of me. The role. Some modern version of Betty Haynes or June Cleaver, who has a ready smile and a warm dinner waiting whenever you deign to come home from work, just like my mother said. I guess I can’t blame you for that. What guy wouldn’t want that? But I can’t maintain that. And you’d already figured that out. You said it yourself. I’m not who you thought I was, and you’ve got nothing more to give. I heard you talking to Simone. And I’m not going to fight you about cutting me loose. We had a business arrangement, and it’s not your fault I forgot that.”
Disbelief was the only thing keeping him silent long enough for her to finish. If this was what she believed, no wonder she’d moved out. No wonder she looked like he’d kicked her. A part of him wanted to rage that she could think this of him, but that would accomplish nothing. The record had to be set straight.
“Do you know what the first rule of journalism is? Always verify the facts.”
A guarded hope sprang into her eyes, but she said nothing.
“Fact: Yes, I’m a guy, so coming home to a hot meal and a smile and a warm, willing wife is a pretty freaking awesome way to end the day. But I certainly don’t expect it of you if you don’t feel like it. You’re human. You have crappy days, like anybody else, and sometimes you’re the one who needs the hot meals and a smile and a blanket fort. I’ve fallen down on that the last few weeks, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know it. I don’t expect you to be June Cleaver. That’s not who you are. And I can only assume your mother gets credit for shoving that particular brand of BS in your head.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but Myles just shook his head. “I’m not finished yet. Fact: What you heard me talking to Simone about was the new assistant editor I just hired. Vanessa was playing hardball and had just sent back a counter offer I couldn’t meet. I had decided to rescind the offer rather than keep playing that game. She was the one I was planning to cut loose. That deal is part of what’s kept me so busy lately. I’ve been trying to find the right person to bring in so that I can legitimately hand off some responsibility of the paper. Because I don’t want to work sixteen-hour days when you’re there to come home to. And as it turns out, when I cut the crap and told Vanessa that, it was a decision she could respect. She starts next month.”
“You...hired help to free up time...for me?”
Myles curled his hands around her arms and shook her, just a little. “Yes. And here’s another fact: This was never a business arrangement. Getting access to the trust to save my business was a component, but I married you because I wanted to, because you’re fun and smart and sexy. I married you because I want a life with you, and when you were crazy enough to be willing to marry me, I wasn’t about to miss the chance. I want a future with you. Kids. A sloppy dog. Rocking chairs on the front porch when we’re eighty. The whole shebang. I want you, Piper. Exactly as you are. And I will fight tooth and nail to keep you because I love you more than I imagined possible. I don’t know how you didn’t know that.”
The tears spilled over and gutted him. “You never said it.”
“I did everything I knew how to show you.”
A flash of consternation showed through the tears. “You’re a journalist. How can you, of all people, not know the power of words?”
“Because I’m a journalist I know how easy it is to spin words, to twist them to say something you don’t really mean. Hell, I didn’t even learn that from journalism. I learned it at home, from my own family. Words are cheap. Nobody knows that better than someone who spends eons choosing the right one for the right impact.”
Her throat worked. “They aren’t cheap to me.”
“Then I’ll splash it on the front page. I’ll make a special section for it in every edition. I’ll hire a skywriter, if that’s what you need. Just…don’t walk away.”
She gave a watery laugh. “I don’t need public declarations. I just…need to hear it.”
Myles pulled her into his arms, his own heart starting to beat again as she wrapped hers around him. He pressed his brow to hers. “I love you. And I’ll say it every day for the rest of our lives.”
“I can live with that.”
~*~
Piper sighed, the tension of the last couple of days draining away. Weak and giddy with relief, she absorbed the warmth of Myles’ arms around her, the soft woosh of his breath inches away.
He loved her.
She’d been so very, very wrong. Thank God.
And now that her world had been set to rights, she needed to rock his one more time.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, a crash sounded from the kitchen.
Piper’s gaze shot to the blocks, but of course her nephew hadn’t sat around while they’d been intent on saving their marriage. She bolted into the kitchen, Myles on her heels, then skidded to a stop at the edge of the disaster.
“I don’t think we’ll be getting our bread this week,” Myles observed.
Preston had somehow turned over the twenty-five pound bucket of flour Leah kept by the counter, dumping the contents all over the kitchen floor, splashing it up on the cabinets and all over himself. A fog of it hung in the air. But that hadn’t been the source of the crash.