Page 28 of Landing Love

They left Hank alone and headed back out to the car.

“You shouldn’t kiss me, Bill,” she murmured.

“It was on the cheek.” As if that helped. He shouldn’t have kissed her at all. She wasn’t ready. It was his problem, not hers, that he wanted to kiss every inch of her, that he dreamed every night of worshipping her body and making her forget her sorrows. She could never know what tender, hot, filthy things he imagined. He woke up hard as a rock every morning, aching for what he couldn’t have.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Not even an innocent peck on the cheek. I got carried away by the good news.”

“I forgive you.” She placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and it was agony. “I know I’m not easy to be friends with. I have too many troubles, and I can’t give you what you truly want.”

“All I want is to be your friend, Ann. You need a friend. I want to be there for you.” Liar. You want so much more. You want every smile and every sigh. You want her passion and her pain. You want kisses and her confessions. You want her body, her heart, her promises, her love, her mornings, her nights… You want it all, you selfish ass. “Let’s go pick up Junior, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yes, let’s.”

He helped her up into the car and drove her back to his parents’ place. Upstairs, they practically had to pry Junior out of his mother’s arms.

“Don’t you need more time? Maybe you could take a walk,” his mother suggested. “Junior and I are having such fun up here. Yes, we are, aren’t we?” She cooed over him.

“I should take Ann and Junior home,” Bill said.

“He’ll get hungry soon,” said Ann. “I should get him home before he needs feeding again.”

“Well, all right. If you must.” His mother surrendered Junior to Ann’s waiting arms. “Any time you need a babysitter, my dear, don’t hesitate to call me up.”

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Donnell. You’re too kind.”

With that, they headed down to the car for the journey back to Merrick.

On the way back, Bill kept up his usual stream of palaver, going on at length about Hank and Rory and their upcoming wedding. Truth be told, he hardly knew what he was saying. He was filling the silence to avoid more awkward moments with Ann. She was silent and thoughtful all the way back.

When he stopped outside her house, he caught her hand before she got out of the car. “Ann, I don’t expect anything. But if ever you find that things change, and you’re ready to be more than friends, I’ll be here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you, Bill. You’re a good man—always responsible and reliable.” His heart soared at her words. No one ever saw him that way.

“I wish I could be what you want,” she continued. “Someday, you’re going to make some woman very happy.” She squeezed his hand. It took all his willpower to hold back from kissing her. She was so close and so lovely. Her skin looked so soft and smooth. Her soulful green eyes looked at him with such warmth and sadness.

“May I kiss your hand?”

She nodded slowly.

Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed her ever so gently, trying to put the full scope of his emotions into that wordless communication. He could only hope she understood. Letting go of her hand at last, he got down and opened her door for her. She got out with the baby, and he helped her bring the bag inside.

“Can I give you a ride to Hank and Rory’s wedding?” he asked. “It would mean a lot if you would come with me. As friends, of course. I’m sure my mother and Mary would be happy to help out with Junior at the reception so that we can dance.”

“Of course,” she said. “I would much rather ride with you than take the train.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you when those two tie the knot.”

“Yes, you will.”

She waved goodbye with Junior in her arms as he drove away. That woman filled him with so much tenderness and desire, he thought he might burst. Someday, when she was ready, he was determined to be the man she chose to give her heart to. Nothing less would satisfy him.

11

Two weeks wasn’t enough time to create a true masterpiece, but Ann did the best she could with a bolt of lavender silk, her sewing machine, and her embroidery hoop. Lavender was still technically a mourning color. She couldn’t bring herself to wear black or gray to a wedding.

The gown was in the modern style with a square neckline, butterfly sleeves, a cinched waist, and a draped, calf-length skirt. She embroidered the sleeves and the panel around the waist with the elaborate design she saw on Mrs. Astor at the PBA fundraiser, using a slightly darker shade of purple thread for contrast.

She also made a tiny blue cotton outfit for Junior and crocheted him some new booties. Lastly, she made herself an oversized handbag that would fit the bare minimum of supplies for Junior. She couldn’t bear to bring the enormous gingham monstrosity she usually carried.