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Miracle Under the Mistletoe
Tracy Madison


Grady and Olivia Foster shared everything–passion, friendship and a soul-deep connection that made their marriage blissful. Then tragedy struck when a drunk driver stole the life of their young son Cody just days before Christmas.Olivia begged for space to heal. But space became estrangement, and now, as Christmas approaches again, Olivia fears it's time to call it quits.But Grady's not giving up without a fight. He'd given her space. Now he's determined to give her what she really needs–all the desire, devotion and tireless love it takes to heal their loss and rekindle the spark that once made them the perfect couple…whether Olivia likes it or not! To save their love, he'll pull out all the stops…and pray for a Christmas miracle.









As if he’d read her mind, a silent but potent sizzle of electricity passed between them.


She stumbled, sure she was about to get up close and personal with the ice, when Grady’s arms pulled her to him. She heard the swish of his skates, his legs locked, and she halted against his chest midfall.

“Gotcha,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall, baby.”

And then, magic happened. She lifted her chin to look into his eyes, and a snowflake landed on her cheek. “It’s snowing! Look, Grady!”

“I can’t,” he said, sounding strangely muffled. “Not when you’re so beautiful my eyes don’t see anything else.”


Dear Reader,

There is a magic to Christmas that makes me believe in miracles. Some of this is based in tradition: baking cookies with my kids that I baked with my mother, decorating the tree with ornaments from Christmases past, and even drinking hot chocolate on Christmas Eve with my children.

These traditions filter through the years, combining the past with the present and laying a framework for the future. What I learned, I am teaching my children, and in turn, they will eventually teach theirs. For me, the simple beauty of this is part of what makes Christmas so magical.

What happens when a couple has endured a horrible tragedy just days before Christmas? How do they find the beauty, the magic, in the Christmas season again? More important, how do they find their way back together when every tradition reminds them of what they have lost? These are the questions that propelled me to write Miracle Under the Mistletoe.

In this book, you’ll meet Grady and Olivia, a husband and wife who are facing their third Christmas without their beloved son. Olivia believes that divorce is the only way to heal, while Grady refuses to give up on the woman he loves. He has a plan to convince her to give their marriage another chance, but even he admits he might need a miracle.

I truly hope you enjoy Grady and Olivia’s story and come to love them and the rest of the Foster clan as much as I do.

Happy reading and happy holidays!

Tracy Madison




Miracle Under the Mistletoe

Tracy Madison







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




TRACY MADISON


lives in Northwestern Ohio with her husband, four children, one bear-size dog, one loving-but-paranoid pooch and a couple of snobby cats. Her house is often hectic, noisy and filled to the brim with laugh-out-loud moments. Many of these incidents fire up her imagination to create the interesting, realistic and intrinsically funny characters that live in her stories. Tracy loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at tracy@tracymadison.com.


To my children: the light of my life.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue




Chapter One


This is a mistake.

Olivia Markham-Foster knew it the second she entered the dimly lit Italian restaurant. She’d arrived early to get her bearings, and the maître d’ had led her to a tucked-away-in-a-corner table that offered plenty of seclusion and privacy. She welcomed the privacy, but the lovey-dovey atmosphere was all wrong. Romance and seduction licked through the air, dripping from the chords of the softly played violin music, twisting her stomach into knots.

Oh, yes. This was most definitely a mistake.

Goose bumps coated her skin and she shivered. She choked down a sip of red wine before placing her finger-entwined hands on her lap. Tonight wasn’t about romance or seduction, but Grady… Well, she figured he’d stroll in, take one look at her sitting in this restaurant, at this table, and draw the completely wrong conclusion.

Her husband, for every inch of his tough exterior, was a romantic through and through, with a soft, melty heart that believed in happily ever after just as fervently as he believed in baseball. Add in the fact that when Grady wanted something, he usually got it, and tonight promised to be more than difficult. He so wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

But Olivia had made a decision and, come hell or high water, she was going to proceed as planned—even if she felt ridiculous for bringing him to a swanky restaurant for an intimate dinner. Maybe the location was Samantha’s fault, but it was too late to change that. Now, she had to follow through. Her life depended on it. If she was being honest, Grady’s life depended on it, too. Continuing on this way, stuck in place at opposite ends, was hurting both of them.

Olivia sighed and fiddled with her wineglass. He wouldn’t see it that way, though. He’d toss the same arguments at her that he always did, remind her of what they’d once been—as if she could possibly forget—and try to cloud her decision so she’d back down.

“Not this time,” she whispered. This time, she would stay strong.

Without warning, her throat tightened and telltale tingles sped along her arms. Whatever composure she’d managed to cling to evaporated in a rush of recognition. He was here. She didn’t need to look up to know that. Her body sensed Grady. Hell, her soul sensed him. It had been that way from the very beginning. She looked up anyway.

And that was another mistake.

She blinked, tried to force herself to look beyond him, but that proved impossible. Grady Foster didn’t simply walk into a room. His long-legged gait held equal amounts of danger and grace—like a panther, wild and untamed. Blacker-than-coal hair framed a sculpted, almost chiseled face, ending just above the hard angle of his jaw, pulling attention to the high-planed lines of his cheeks.

His gaze met hers. The distance between them didn’t mask the glitter of recognition, anticipation, in his cinnamon-speckled eyes. Her heart rippled like a caged butterfly, its wings beating mercilessly against her breastbone, begging for release—for freedom. Again, the image of a panther, catching sight of its prey and moving in for the kill, winged into her mind. And she was Grady’s prey.

Okay, not fair. He didn’t want to cause her harm. Just the opposite, actually. He wanted to pull her into his arms and give her the world. He wanted them to reclaim the life they’d lost, but that—like so many other things—was impossible.

He approached in ground-swallowing steps, every part of him focused on her. She stole another quick sip of wine before pulling in a breath, before relaxing her muscles and giving him the cool, practiced smile she’d perfected over the past three years. If she kept her emotions hidden and her voice calm and sure, she’d get through this. Somehow.

Just as she had everything else.

He slung his long, sinewy frame into the chair across from her and nodded. He tugged at his tie, loosening it ever so slightly. If she wasn’t fighting so hard to remain in control, she might feel ashamed for bringing him to a place that required a suit. Grady hated wearing them. A pity, really. Very few men looked quite as sexy as her husband did in a well-fitted suit.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” she said in a soft, clear voice. Her hope was to take control of the conversation, of this meeting, before they lapsed into the murky footsteps of their past. She also wanted to hide how much his presence shook her. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Disbelief creased his forehead with lines. “You’re my wife, Olly. Why would you think I’d refuse to see you? I’ve been waiting for this…waiting for you to reach out…for a long time.”

“But I’m not—” She coughed to clear her throat. He was right. Regardless of how often she’d turned away from his attempts at reconciliation, she knew he’d show. He hadn’t given up hope. But she had, so she stuck with the lie. “I wasn’t sure,” she repeated.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.” The brown in his eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched tight. “I’m available whenever you need me. I’ve made that clear to you, haven’t I?”

“Y-you have, but… Well—” She broke off when she saw the waiter approaching their table. Relief that she had a few precious minutes to regain her equilibrium saturated in, easing the acid roiling in her stomach.

The waiter set menus in front of them, gave a quick rundown of the evening’s specials, and took Grady’s drink order before leaving them alone again.

Grady returned his thickly lashed gaze to hers. “Let’s start over. I’m glad you called, Olivia. I’m glad we’re here together. We haven’t been to a place like this since before—” Rubbing his hand over his jaw, he frowned. “In years,” he said, correcting his near error.

It was so very hard not to react to the words he almost said. A shot of familiar sadness swept in, nearly crippling her. If she gave in to the sadness, she’d break down. The guilt would come next and before she knew it, she’d be up to her eyebrows in emotional quicksand. So she did what she always did—she shoved her feelings away as hard and as fast as she could. “Yes. Years. And this is a nice restaurant, but Grady…”

A few seconds passed while he waited for her to finish speaking, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to, he raised his shoulders in question. “But what?”

Now or later? Dinner first would be best. Especially if they could manage cordial conversation. She gave her head a quick shake. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“I know you better than that, Olly. I’m here and I’m not going to bite. So tell me…but what?”

“Fine. Here goes.” Olivia inhaled a quick breath in an attempt to steady herself. “I know you’re probably thinking that I brought you here to…to…”

He sighed in exasperation. “Okay, Olivia. What’s going on? I think you asked me to meet you here for what? A good meal?” His voice held a teasing quality, but the lines in his forehead deepened even more. “Please tell me what I’m thinking.”

Oh, God. Why had she listened to Samantha? Coming here for this conversation had been her idea, and Olivia should have known better. “That I want us to get back together, and that I brought you here to discuss reconciliation.”

His entire body stilled as he appraised her.

For not the first time in her adult life, Olivia wished she had the ability to sit as still and quiet as he. To let him grow uncomfortable enough that he’d fill the silence. But he was the panther, not she. “I don’t—want to get back together, that is. I thought we could talk. We need to talk. But not about reconciliation.”

A new round of disbelief hardened his expression and glinted in his eyes. “I put on a suit, drove across town and met you in a romantic restaurant so you could inform me that nothing has changed? We could have had this conversation on the phone, or at the house, or— Hell, Olly, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking…I didn’t know— Samantha recommended this restaurant. She said the atmosphere was conducive to a private discussion. This conversation shouldn’t happen over the phone, and you haven’t lived in the house for months—close to a year, actually—so I was afraid you’d feel like we were on my turf.” Calm down, she instructed herself. Don’t get rattled. Straightening her posture, she said quietly, “I thought a place neither of us had ever been would even the playing field. So to speak.”

The tight, hard way he held his mouth relaxed. “Samantha told you to bring me here?”

“Yes. But I didn’t know—” Olivia narrowed her eyes at the devilish smirk on Grady’s face. Samantha Hagen was her best friend, but she was a huge fan of Grady’s. She wanted Olivia and Grady to reconcile almost as much as Grady did. “This isn’t funny! I’m trying to explain.”

Rather than disappearing, or even easing, the smirk widened. “I’ve always liked Sammy. I haven’t talked to her in ages. How’s she doing?”

“She’s fine,” Olivia snapped, annoyed with the change in his demeanor. “You could even say that business is booming.” Samantha earned her living as a divorce attorney. “In fact, she’s busier than ever.”

His smirk vanished. “I’m happy for her, but—”

“You don’t believe in divorce,” she said, finishing his sentence.

“That isn’t entirely true. I don’t believe in backing away from a commitment until all other alternatives have been exhausted.” He gave her a piercing look. “You used to feel the same.”

A slew of tremors skidded down her spine, but she kept her voice steady. “I used to feel a lot of ways that I no longer do. Things change.”

Before she could blink, his hand captured hers. His touch, as simple as it was, wove into her and sparked a touch of desire deep in her belly. Dear God, she’d missed his touch. She pulled out of his grasp and flexed her fingers. “Things change,” she said again. “That hasn’t changed. You still want me. As much as I want you. Why do you fight against us so hard?”

“Because physical attraction isn’t enough.”

“You keep saying that, but—” The waiter appeared, delivering Grady’s beer, and asked for their orders.

Olivia had barely glanced at the menu. She started to say that they’d need a few more minutes when Grady stepped in and ordered for both of them. He’d ordered for her on plenty of occasions in the past, a trait she used to find endearing, but this time it riled her up. More than necessary, but she couldn’t stop her frustration from fueling into anger.

When the waiter left, she glowered at her husband. “Maybe I wanted something instead of chicken marsala. Maybe I thought the scallop linguine sounded good.”

He raised his left eyebrow. “Really? But you love chicken marsala.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

An exasperated huff pushed out of her lungs. “You could’ve asked.”

“Why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you’ve always ordered chicken marsala at every Italian restaurant we’ve ever gone to.” He shook his head in confusion. “Why would I think that had changed?”

“Why would you think it hadn’t? I’m not the same woman you married. Many, many things have changed. Why can’t you accept that?”

“If you want linguine, I’ll get you linguine.” He started to raise his hand to gesture for the waiter, but she grabbed his arm and tugged.

“Stop! Please, Grady. You can’t fix everything! You can’t make everything right.” She gulped a mouthful of air. “Quit trying.”

He muttered a curse. “I apologize for ordering for you. It’s an old habit, and I did it without thinking. My intent wasn’t to upset you.”

Heavy tears pressed against her eyes. One blink and they’d come pouring out. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—cry in front of Grady. If she did, he would doubt her decision. And if he pushed her too hard, she’d probably capitulate and spend the next year, two, or possibly the rest of her life in the same empty place she’d already spent far too long. No way could she let that happen.

It was time. She needed to say what she came here to say before her emotions got the best of her. Waiting until after they ate now seemed absurd and pointless. She tried to talk, but the words got stuck in her throat.

Unsaid emotions drenched the air between them. Grady stared at her, his lips taut and his eyes hooded. Comprehension filtered over him. He expelled a harsh-sounding breath. “This isn’t about the chicken, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.”

“What is this about then, Olivia?”

She almost couldn’t say the words. Memories of their past—of how happy their lives had been—whispered through her mind. She opened her mouth but closed it just as fast.

“Well?” He sounded resigned, as if he knew what was coming and just wanted to get it over with. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

Raising her chin, she met his gaze with hers, and that was all it took to put her back on course. No matter how good those early memories were, they weren’t enough. “I want a divorce,” she said softly but with conviction.

His shoulders stiffened as he took in her statement. “What did you say?”

“I said that I want a divorce.” Her heart pounded so fast and so hard that her chest almost hurt from the pressure. “I’m sorry, Grady. It’s time. You know it’s time.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” Grady’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not interested in a divorce. And we have a long way to go before I’ll even consider it.”

“How much longer? We haven’t been a real couple for two—almost three—years.”

“We were together and happy for seven.”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Our lifetime, Olly. Yours and mine. Why won’t you give us a chance?” Frustration colored his tone and a gleam of hurt pooled in his eyes. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid. But you moved out of the house nine months ago. We lead separate lives. There isn’t any reason to pretend any longer, Grady.” She lifted her chin. “Our marriage is over.”

“I moved out because you asked me to. I’ve kept to our agreement of one phone call a week. I don’t drop by without your permission.” He combed his fingers through his hair in a quick, jagged movement. “And do you know why I’ve done these things?”

She knew. Of course, she knew. “Because I asked you to. Because you hoped that a little distance would bring us closer together. But that hasn’t happened.”

“Because you haven’t let it.”

One deep breath in, another out, and she said, “We’re at the end. You have to know that.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know that. What I know is that we are not finished. What I know is that there is still plenty between us. Tell me I’m wrong.”

The pain in her chest expanded. “You’re not wrong,” she said in a shaky whisper. “There are feelings here. There will probably always be feelings between us, but we can’t—”

“What?” he demanded. “We can’t what?”

“Recover. Be the same as we were. Turn back time.” But dear God, she wished they could. She swallowed a sob. “We can’t fix the one thing that needs to be fixed.”

Every hard edge softened. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath that must have reached his toes. When he opened his eyes again, she no longer saw frustration. She saw compassion, as well as the same raw pain that met her gaze every time she looked into a mirror. This was what they shared now: pain and loss. And how were they to build anything meaningful, anything positive, with that as their foundation?

“You’re right. I would do anything—give up anything—to change what happened. But I can’t, sweetheart. You can’t, either. But we—you and I—can forge something new, something different. It will never be the same, but we can be happy again. I believe that, Olly. If you’ll just give us a real chance.” His jaw set in that stubborn line. “Unless… Is there someone else?”

“No,” she said instantly. “But there never will be for either of us if we’re still married to each other.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he said in a growl.

“Fine! Maybe I do! M-maybe I’m ready to start dating again.” The lie fell easily from her lips, but not so easily from her heart. “Maybe I’m ready to move on.”

“Then move on with me.”

He made it sound so easy. As if simply saying yes would magically set everything right. And she—God help her—wanted to say yes. But she’d had more peace in the past nine months than she’d had before he moved out. That made her answer clear and absolute. “I can’t. There is nowhere left for us to go. It’s been three years since we’ve been happy, Grady.”

“Yup,” he said, surprising her with his agreement. “But in those three years, have we seen a counselor? Have we had an honest conversation about what happened?” He shook his head. “No, we haven’t. Therefore, all alternatives have not been exhausted.”

“Tell me the past nine months haven’t been a relief?” she countered.

“They’ve been hell,” he said quietly.

“Not for me.” This wasn’t the entire truth. She’d missed her husband. At times, had even ached to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms close around her at night. But the greater part of her had found relief. Amnesty. A reprieve from the darkness. “I—I don’t need your agreement to file for divorce.”

“No. You don’t. Oregon is a no-fault state. But that doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.”

“It would be easier if you would agree. I would like it so much better if we were on the same page. I don’t want to fight you,” she admitted in a rush of syllables. “But I can’t stand still anymore. Please understand.”

“Understand what? That you’re my wife? I love you, Olivia. Doesn’t that mean anything to you now?”

And she still loved him. She probably always would. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It sucked, and she hated it, but that was the way life worked. “No, Grady. It doesn’t.” She cringed at her tone—at another lie—but backing down wasn’t an option. “I need this. I need to move on, and I can’t do that until we are officially over with.”

Defeat, followed by a hot blaze of emotion ripped over Grady’s features. “What would Cody say to this? Have you thought about that?”

His words slammed into her, shaking her bravado and stealing her breath away. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you bring Cody into this.”

“Oh, come on, Olivia. Let’s be honest with each other about this for once.” Grady clenched his hands into fists. “This is completely about Cody. This has everything to do with Cody. So let me ask you again—what would our son have to say about this?”

Every iota of calmness she’d managed to maintain evaporated. This was too much. She needed to get away from here—from him. Standing from the table, she grabbed her purse and set an icy glare upon her husband. “I’m going to have Samantha start the paperwork. You might want to consider hiring an attorney.”

With that, she left the restaurant in slow, measured steps that belied her off-the-charts emotional state. Her entire body quaked as sadness mixed with shock and anger rushed through her. How dare he? Bringing their son into this was wrong.

She made it to her car without shedding a tear. Knowing Grady was apt to come looking for her, to make sure she was all right and to offer her comfort, she drove down the street a few miles before pulling into another parking lot, this one in front of a grocery store.

Crossing her arms over the steering wheel, she allowed herself a good, shoulder-shaking cry. God, she missed Grady. But she missed her little boy more. Missed every little thing about him. And that was one reason being around Grady was so difficult. Cody had been the spitting image of his daddy. So when Grady smiled, she saw Cody’s smile. When she looked into Grady’s eyes, she saw her son’s eyes. Even their laughs were the same. The resemblance between father and son kicked her in the gut every time she laid eyes on Grady.

It didn’t matter that the love she felt for her husband was as real today as it was on the day they married. It didn’t matter how often she woke in the middle of the night and reached for him, only to find herself alone. And it didn’t matter that her entire life felt emptier without him. Because as bad as all those things were, they didn’t compare to losing her child.

Grady thought she blamed him for the death of their son. Nothing could be further from the truth, not that he believed her. It would be easier if she did blame Grady, she admitted. She’d be able to forgive him. Forgiving herself, though, seemed impossible. It was her fault that her husband and son were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was her fault that they were driving on ice-slicked roads instead of where they should have been: safe and sound at home. She was the one who put off taking Cody to see Santa for weeks, and she was the one who put the bug in Cody’s ear about Daddy taking him to see Santa instead. And when Grady came to her and suggested they go together, as a family, she’d pushed the whole father-and-son-outing idea until he agreed.

Her selfish want to have a few hours to herself, to relax from all of the shopping, wrapping, baking and decorating had resulted in the loss of everything that meant anything.

So no, she couldn’t be with Grady. It was too hard. He brought too many memories, too many emotions, to the surface for her to find any type of peace.



Forty-five minutes later, Grady strode through the cemetery, not stopping until he reached his son’s gravestone. Nearly three years since he’d heard Cody’s laugh, since he’d seen the boy’s brown eyes light up in humor, since his arms had held his child to his chest in a hug. How was that possible? The pain ignited inside as if the loss had occurred yesterday.

Usually, Grady could set the hollow ache aside and move forward, do whatever needed to be done, and portray a man who lived and breathed and loved. It was only during these moments—when he came to visit Cody’s resting place—that he gave up the charade. There was no reason to pretend here. Not when it was just them.

He shivered, partly from the memories and partly from the dusting of snow that had fallen earlier all throughout the city. It seemed every recent winter brought more snow than the residents of Portland, Oregon, were accustomed to, but this was the earliest snowfall that Grady could recall. Silly and sentimental, maybe, but it was almost as if Cody were reaching out to him. His son had loved everything about winter.

Bending at the knees, Grady brushed the light layer of snow covering the etched letters that spelled out his son’s name. Losing Cody wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, either. But hell, what in life was fair? Things happened. Some of the things were good, some of them were bad, and some of them were so bad that you didn’t think you’d ever recover. Grady almost hadn’t. But you played the hand you were dealt. You found a way to get through, to get a grip, and you carried on.

Not that carrying on without his son had been an easy task. Far from it. Never had he experienced such a profound loss, and he prayed to whatever God existed that he would never face anything so excruciating again.

“Hey, kiddo. I’ve been thinking a lot about you today. Every day, really. You’re never far from my thoughts.” Grady’s throat seemed to shrink as he spoke, but he continued to talk, knowing from past experience that as hard as these visits were, they also helped him feel close to Cody. “I saw your mom tonight. You should’ve seen her, son. She looked beautiful.”

Olivia had worn her dark brown hair loose and long, framing her face, showing off her gorgeous wide-set blue eyes. The second he saw her, he was lost all over again. God, what a fool he was. When Olivia had asked him to dinner, he’d been sure that tonight would be the night he’d been waiting for: the night they’d finally begin to clear the air and move toward reconciliation.

“I don’t want to give up on her,” Grady murmured into the cold night air. “I promise I’ll keep trying, Cody. Though, I’ll have to give her a few days to calm down. I upset her tonight, son. I didn’t mean to.”

When Olivia had left Grady alone at the restaurant, it was all he could do not to jump up and follow. He hated not knowing if she was okay. He hated knowing that there were some things he couldn’t shield her from. But he forced himself to stay put. He’d dealt her a low blow by bringing Cody into the conversation. He probably shouldn’t have, but he yearned to talk to Olivia about Cody, to revel in the life of their son together. But the facts were plain. She wasn’t ready. After tonight, he wondered if she ever would be.

He’d believed that given enough distance—since that seemed to be what Olivia needed—they’d find their way together again. So he’d held his tongue, waited for her to come to him, to say all the words she never had, and hoped that once that happened, they might have a chance at repairing their marriage. But now she’d asked for a divorce. Something that she’d hinted at often enough but had never before said straight-out.

“I wish…” Grady swallowed the rest of his statement away. He’d like to turn back time, just as Olivia had said, and return to that snowy, blustery day nearly three years earlier. With Christmas only two days away, five-year-old Cody had wanted to visit Santa before the big day. To be honest, Grady hadn’t been in the mood for a trip to the mall. Dealing with mobs of people didn’t sound nearly as much fun as playing in the snow with his son.

But Cody had looked at him with those big, brown eyes and pleaded in the way that only a five-year-old can. So off they went on a father-and-son outing. Grady would never, for as long as he lived, forget the look of pure joy on Cody’s face when he sat on Santa’s knee. That smile made the crowded mall, the long lines and the grumpy shoppers worthwhile.

The snow was falling fast and furious when they left, and Grady had a minute—one freaking minute—where he considered hanging out in the food court to give the storm a little more time to work its way through. But he’d worried that it would get worse with night approaching, so he made the decision to get them home. Where it was safe. Where Olivia waited.

So yes, he’d give anything and everything to revisit that day and spend the hours building snowmen with his son instead of going to the mall. Or left an hour earlier—later—hell, fifteen minutes in either direction might have made the world of a difference, might have put his car somewhere other than in the path of a driver who’d consumed far too many drinks.

“Stop. It’s done. Nothing to do about that now.” True, that. But knowing something couldn’t be changed didn’t stop a man from wishing it could. He brushed his fingers over his son’s name again, recalling the joy their lives had been together. They were, in nearly all ways, the perfect family. Or, at least, the way a family should be.

Yep, he’d had it all. The American dream. And now… “Your mom blames me, Cody. She swears that she doesn’t, but I know she does. If she’d just scream at me and quit trying to shield both of us from her feelings, we might stand a chance.”

Grady even understood why Olivia felt the way she did. He’d likely have had the same demons to fight if their roles were reversed, if Olivia had been at the wheel that day. He understood her blame completely. Hell, he’d yet to stop blaming himself.



Olivia stood motionless, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. She wasn’t close enough to hear Grady’s words, but the sight of him kneeling at their son’s gravesite softened everything inside. They hadn’t been here together since that horrible, exhausting day they buried their son.

She swallowed, trying to ease the pressure in her chest, trying to find a way to feel normal. Even if only for a second. A choked-sounding sob escaped. She barely remembered what normal was. The tenor of Grady’s voice whisked along the November wind, wrapping around her, bringing a strange sort of anonymous comfort.

How odd that being with him brought her pain, but this—just listening to his voice—eased the panicky, twisty feeling that had existed within her for so long. The safety of distance, perhaps. Or the simple fact that he didn’t know she lurked nearby. Or maybe because she’d finally, after all of this time, made a decision about their marriage.

None of that mattered at the moment, because all she wanted was to feel normal again. So she didn’t think. She didn’t give herself a second to consider the ramifications, to wonder if she should or if she shouldn’t. She just stepped forward, her eyes resting on the one man—the only man—she’d ever loved. Her shoes crunched in the snow, the sound echoing in the silent night like tiny bursts of fireworks, but Grady didn’t turn his head.

She kept moving forward, expecting him to hear her, expecting him to stop talking and face her, at any minute. He didn’t. She stopped a few feet from where he knelt, close enough to make out his words, close enough to recognize the husky, emotional quality in her husband’s voice.

“It’s almost Christmas again, son. Soon, people will be putting up their Christmas trees, decorating their houses with lights. Kids will visit Santa.” Grady’s tone deepened. “I try not to be envious. I try not to think about what we would be doing if you were still with us. But it’s hard.”

Oh, God. No. She didn’t want to hear this. No, no, no. She took one silent step backward, and then another. But Grady kept talking, each syllable slicing into her like a blade.

“I saw this train set the other day, and I immediately thought how much you would love it. I had the box in my hands before I remembered…before I realized—”

She blinked and one tear, and then another, fell. How often had the same thing happened to her? Too often. “Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop.”

Grady rose to his feet lightning-fast. His arms crushed around her and his mouth pressed against the top of her head. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m sorry, Olly. I’m so sorry you heard…?.”

She burrowed her head into his chest, knowing she should pull away but unable to find the strength to do so. His arms felt so good around her. She closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent, allowing herself a few minutes of comfort.

He tightened his hold and kissed her hair softly. Gently. She sighed and nestled in deeper, wanting more, wanting everything she’d lost, wanting to be—even if only for one more night—normal. Again, the thought that she should pull back—leave and go home—processed, but her body refused to listen. So she hung on, curled her fingers into the back of Grady’s coat and tugged him closer.

The twisting sensation in her stomach gave way to warmth. Tendrils of heat teased through her muscles, winding through her body like a vine. Grady’s hands pressed against her back, offering her comfort, reminding her of everything they’d once been, of the passion they’d once shared, of the life they’d once had. It was a lot. It was too much to take in, too much to handle with her raw emotions, so she forced her arms to drop and her legs to retreat.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you,” she mumbled. “I should leave.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” He held out a hand. “Come here, Olly. Let me hold you.”

Her logical brain insisted she needed to hightail it out of there, but her body moved forward. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her toward him. She looked up into Grady’s eyes, and before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

And everything else disappeared.




Chapter Two


Olivia rolled over in bed and stretched. She reached blindly for Jasper, but instead of the soft, warm fur of her cat, her palm slapped against an empty pillow. Normally, the oversize Siamese perched himself next to her head, anxiously waiting for her to wake up. The second she’d open her eyes, the hungry meows would begin.

Weird. She couldn’t remember one morning in the last—

Oh, no! She hadn’t. Had she? Her skin warmed when the prior night’s events invaded her memory. Oh, yes. God help her, yes she had. Grady had kissed her. She’d kissed him back, and then followed him here, to his apartment. More kissing ensued. There were a few glasses of wine in there somewhere, along with the food Grady had brought home from the restaurant, and then more kissing. Her fingers touched her lips. A lot of kissing. A lot of touching.

Oh, hell. A lot of everything.

Fire had roared through her blood, she’d wanted him so badly. Still wanted him, if her body’s current reaction was anything to go by.

And how stupid was that? Panic threaded in when she peeked through half-opened eyes, expecting to find Grady watching her. When she didn’t see her husband anywhere, she opened her eyes fully and sat up, pulling the blankets around her, taking stock.

The room was simple and basic, containing only a bed, a dresser, one nightstand and a lamp. Other than a few pictures of Cody and one of her, the room was bare of any decorative embellishments. She remembered that the rest of the apartment was the same: functional, but without any of the extras that created a home. Not so much a bachelor pad as a place to get by, one day at a time, until something better came along.

And knowing her husband the way she did, that meant waiting for her. Waiting for the day that he could move back into their home to take up where they’d left off.

Olivia brought her knees tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around them in an effort to find her balance. This was bad. Monumentally bad, even. She heard movement from beyond the bedroom, along with a cacophony of banging and clanking. Grady was in the kitchen, probably making her breakfast. Her husband’s humming hit her ears next. Humming!

She groaned. Now what? She’d finally found the strength to ask for a divorce, and then she’d followed up with a roll in the hay? What kind of a woman did that—and enjoyed it, no less? Okay, huge understatement. She’d more than enjoyed it. She’d basked in their lovemaking. Images of him touching her, of her touching him, rushed in. Red-hot heat licked into her limbs. Last night wasn’t Grady’s fault. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. Physically, anyway. And for what? To feel normal?

The humming in the next room changed to whistling. She tried to relax, but her muscles bunched into tighter knots. Her eyes drifted to a photo of Cody and another round of panic hit her squarely in her chest. What had she been thinking? Stupid question. She hadn’t thought. No, what she had done was react—to Grady’s voice, his touches…his kisses.

“Calm down,” Olivia murmured. “Think this through.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed herself a moment to relive their lovemaking. Warmth and tenderness exploded inside as the memories wove through her. Dear God, she’d missed him. Last night was like coming home. “This is good,” she whispered. “Keep going.”

She envisioned walking into the kitchen and laying a kiss on her husband, on the image of his arms circling her and holding her tight, of her telling him that she wanted to move forward. Or, at least, try to move forward. A slow buzz trickled over her, further easing the weight on her shoulders. Maybe last night hadn’t been a mistake, but rather, a twist of fate to stop her from divorcing Grady. Was that possible?

Maybe. If she were to believe in signs, then this—having sex with her husband the night she’d asked for a divorce—was a huge one. Opening her eyes, she breathed in deeply and let the idea simmer. The panicky feeling was still there, but for maybe the first time in years, a tiny speck of hope existed. Why? What had changed? Maybe…maybe she’d needed nothing more than to take a step toward Grady, instead of pushing him away?

Her gaze found Cody’s picture again. Her beautiful boy’s face, forever captured in a photograph, made her heart flutter in a saccharine-sweet reminder. His mischievous smile and the light in his eyes turned the flutter into a stabbing sensation. Cody was still gone. A fresh wave of agony pulled a sob from her throat. How could she feel happy, even for a minute, without him? She couldn’t. So, no. Nothing had changed.

The walls closed in and suffocating pressure enveloped her. Last night, no matter how wondrous, was a mistake. Now she had to explain that to Grady. But first, she had to get out of his bed and put some clothes on. Sitting here naked while he cooked her breakfast wasn’t the way to fix anything.

That thought galvanized her into action. She scrambled off the bed and grabbed her clothes. Bra…check. Panties…check. She slipped her dress on over her head. The whistling from the next room grew louder…closer.

Crap! Where were her shoes? She scanned the floor and then dropped to her knees and peered under the bed. No shoes. Think, Olivia! Where did you leave them?

The door opened while she still had half of her body stuck under the bed. She jumped and hit her head on the bed frame. A curse that would redden a sailor’s cheeks flew from her lips.

“Checking for monsters?” Grady’s warm tenor was filled with forced humor. “Or just seeing what I store under my bed?”

“Neither.” She rubbed the back of her head while pulling herself upright. “I…um…was trying to find my shoes.”

“In the living room.” He gave her a quick once-over. “Are you okay?”

Olivia nodded, struck speechless by the sight of her husband. He stood by the door in navy flannel pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt that fit him like a second skin. She had a moment’s relief that he even wore a shirt, but that didn’t dispel the need swirling inside.

The tray in his hands held plates with bacon and eggs, along with a couple of mugs filled with coffee. “You…didn’t have to make me breakfast,” she said.

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “I figured you’d be ravenous after—”

“Right. Well…um…thank you, but I’m actually not h-hungry.” Her stomach growled, belying her words. Damn him for knowing her so well, anyway. “I’m not that hungry,” she corrected. “And I should probably be getting home. For Jasper.”

“Jasper will be fine for a little longer.” Grady nodded toward the tray. “I had this grand idea of breakfast in bed, but now that you’re up, we might as well eat in the kitchen.” Before leaving the room, he tossed her one of his sexy-as-sin grins. “Come on. Before everything gets cold.”

She eyed the door he stepped through and considered her options. She wanted—needed—to leave and go home where she felt safe. Where she could be alone and think about everything that had gone on here, and then—after she felt whatever she was going to feel—she could tuck it all away and work on forgetting. As if none of it had ever happened.

Yes. That was the plan she wanted to proceed with. But jeez, he’d made her breakfast! How in the world was she supposed to ignore that? She tried to imagine strolling out of the bedroom, finding her shoes, telling Grady, “Thanks, but no thanks,” while he sat at his kitchen table with food he’d prepared for her.

A sigh slipped out. She couldn’t do that. He deserved so much more than that. Okay, then, they’d eat. She could give him that much. But somehow, before she left this apartment, she’d have to dig deep and find the strength to tell him that last night hadn’t altered her decision.

“Olly? You okay in there?” Grady called out. “Should I bring the tray back in?”

“No! I’m coming.” As bad as this was, eating in the bedroom would be ten times worse. Straightening her spine, she plastered a smile on and exited the room. Her stomach growled again when she sat down at his minuscule kitchen table, a reminder that Grady knew her far better than she knew herself. And for whatever reason, that annoyed her.

“Hi,” she said. “I…I was looking for a hairbrush.”

“Hi, yourself. The brush is in the bathroom, but you don’t need it. I like the mussed morning-after look on you.” He gave her a closer look. “Actually, you’re a little pale. How hard did you hit your head?”

“I’m okay. A bit of a headache, maybe.” Just that fast, her annoyance fled. It wasn’t his fault that he knew her so well, and his concern touched her. It also made her feel like a heel. He was still watching her, so she said, “And I think I’m hungrier than I realized.”

“Dig in. I’m going to grab you something for that headache.” He reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

She nodded and tried to focus on her meal. Even though he’d cooked everything just as she liked it—the bacon was crisp without falling apart, the coffee was strong and hot and the scrambled eggs had the exact right amount of cheddar cheese melted on top—it all tasted flat. She might as well have been eating cardboard.

Grady returned and handed her a couple of capsules. “Ibuprofen. You don’t have a lump, do you?”

She swallowed the pills with a gulp of coffee. “Lump?”

“On your head. From hitting it?” He took the chair across from her. “Do you need some ice?”

“Oh!” She reached up and felt the back of her head. “Nope. No lump.”

An odd expression darted over his face, but he nodded. “Good.”

The next several minutes were filled with silence as they ate. She managed to clear about a third of her plate before giving up the pretense. With a sigh, she pushed her plate back and picked up her coffee. “Thanks again. This was really good.”

He eyed her doubtfully. “You’re welcome. You didn’t eat that much, and I think that’s the third time you’ve thanked me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m feeling much better.” Liar! her mind screamed. “But Grady, I need to tell you…I mean to say…” Setting her cup down, she twisted her fingers together. “We should probably talk—”

He gave her a long, searching look. “I know you’re uncomfortable about last night, but there isn’t any reason to put it under a magnifying glass.” He pushed a lock of black hair off of his forehead. “We don’t have to talk about last night, Olly. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“We don’t?” Her mind zeroed in to the first part of his statement and a good amount of tension evaporated. Oh, thank God for small favors. Maybe last night had been nothing more than goodbye sex. A last hurrah of sorts. She could live with that—couldn’t she? “Well, good. I—I guess I should get home to Jasper.”

She started to push back from the table, knowing she should say more, knowing she should clarify that his statement meant what she thought it meant, but not sure how to get it out without sounding like an idiot, when Grady said, “Don’t leave. Please? I want to spend the day with you.” His husky tone poured into her like a salve. God, she loved his voice. “I was thinking we could get an early start on Christmas shopping. Maybe even—”

“It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet. I haven’t thought about buying gifts.” And she certainly hadn’t considered shopping with Grady. The last time they’d gone Christmas shopping together was forever ago. Before… Well, just before. “I don’t know. It probably isn’t a good idea.”

“Well,” he said slowly, his gaze level with hers. “I…I have an idea. Something I would like to share with you, but I’m not sure how you’ll respond.”

Warning signals bleeped in her brain. “Respond to what?”

“I thought we could shop for Cody…for presents that are appropriate for eight-year-old boys. We could think about him, what he’d be like at this age, what he might like, and then we could give anything we buy to Toys for Tots in his name.”

She stared at him without speaking. This was a nightmare. She was dreaming or something, because she couldn’t see Grady being so cruel as to suggest this. “Wh-what?”

“Don’t get upset. Just hear me out.” He wrapped his hand around his coffee mug and squeezed so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I miss him so much. We—” His voice caught. He coughed to clear his throat and then swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “We never talk about him. I miss talking about him with you. We were his parents and we never talk about our son. It’s killing me, Olivia.”

“And you think shopping for Christmas presents will help?” Everything inside went cold. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Why would we do that? How can that help anything? Why would you ask me to do that?”

“To remember our son, Olivia. To do something together with him in mind. To feel close to him around Christmas.” Grady let go of the mug and grasped her hand. “He loved Christmas, sweetheart. Do you remember?”

“All kids love Christmas,” she fired back. “And of course I remember.”

“I want to share this with you. Will you trust me enough to give this a chance? One hour,” Grady pleaded. “Give it one hour, and if it’s too much, we’ll stop.”

Emotions clogged her throat, tightened her chest. She shook her head blindly, barely able to see beyond the tears filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “No way.”

“Just listen,” he begged. “I’ve done this for the past two years. I’m not going to lie…it was tough the year after we lost him. It will be tough for you. But sweetheart, I found that doing this gives me a lot of joy. I want you to feel that joy.”

“Lost him? We didn’t lose him, Grady. Our son died! He’s not hiding somewhere waiting for us to find him.” Her anger shot out before she could edit her words. “He’s gone and no amount of thinking about him or shopping with him in mind will change that fact.”

Grady winced as if she’d struck him. “I know he died. Do you really think I’m capable of forgetting that?” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but if you try, if you go along with me on this, it might be—”

“Might be what? Painful? Yes! Sad? Yes!” Overwhelming and scary and way, way more than she could handle? Oh, God, yes. Another round of despair pressed in, reinforcing her surety that being with Grady was impossible. “I can’t choose gifts with Cody in mind and give them to someone else! I can’t think about how he would be at this age, or what he would want for Christmas…or…or…”

She bit her lip harder, willing the tears to recede. Grady continued to hold her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. A million and one heartbreaking minutes passed before he said, “Okay, I get it. You’re not ready for this. I’m sorry I brought it up.” His shoulders lifted in a heavy shrug. “I thought it might help. I hoped… Hell, it doesn’t matter. We can do something else.”

“No. We can’t do something else. I need to go home.” She tried to yank her hand out of his grip, but couldn’t. “Let go of me,” she said between clenched teeth, trying to hold back the gush of tears she felt coming.

“Please stay,” he said again. “We don’t have to discuss Cody or what happened last night, but I don’t want you to leave when you’re this upset. Let’s spend the day together. We can go see a movie or visit my folks. They’re always asking about you.”

She shook her head, not trusting herself enough to talk.

“If you leave, it’s like we’re taking one step forward and two steps backward. Let’s not do that. Let’s keep moving forward.” Grady’s voice was even and calm, but each word held the strength of his love, of his conviction that they should be together.

She held her eyes wide open, refusing to blink. The heavy weight of anger dissipated, changing to fear. Not of Grady. Never of him. But of what he wanted. Of what she couldn’t give him. “We are as far back as we can get. There is no moving forward, Grady. I…I haven’t changed my mind about the divorce. I’m sorry for leading you on—” her voice caught as an unwanted sob emerged “—I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I still want a divorce.”

Grady sat so still, she wasn’t sure if he was breathing. But then, “You didn’t act like we were making a mistake last night. You had plenty of opportunity to slam on the brakes.” Frustration deepened his voice. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” She tugged her hand, and he let go. “I don’t regret last night, Grady. It was wonderful in…in so many ways. I regret confusing the situation between us…but that’s my fault. My mistake. I’m sorry you thought last night meant—”

“I didn’t know what it meant! But I sure as hell didn’t think it meant nothing.”

“I know. My fault,” she repeated. She hated hurting him, but didn’t see a way around it. “It meant something. Of course it did! Just not what you’d like. I really am sorry. So sorry.”

“Is this really it, Olly? No turning back here.” He held himself stiff and straight, as if pulling all of his strength together to shield himself from her. “You want a divorce?”

Olivia drew in a breath and fastened her eyes on his. “Yes, Grady. I do.”

“You’re sure?” he demanded. “Be very sure, Olivia.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m sure.”

His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a millisecond. With a weary, defeated-sounding sigh, he said, “Fine. I can’t keep fighting you on this. I’ll find an attorney.”

More shocked than relieved to hear his agreement,

Olivia said, “You will?”

“I will.” He looked away. In a lower tone, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For driving the car our son died in.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said thickly. He didn’t respond, just pointed his gaze toward the door, his message clear. He wanted her to leave. Who could blame him?

She found her shoes and fumbled, nearly falling when she put them on. Opening the door to his apartment seemed to take far more strength than it should. Or, at least, far more strength than she had. Just before stepping outside, she whispered, “I don’t blame you, Grady. I blame me. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“I can’t hear you, Olivia. What did you say?” Grady said.

“I said…goodbye. Just goodbye.” She pushed herself out, letting the door slam behind her. The air outside was colder than she expected. So cold, she wouldn’t have been surprised if her tears froze on their path down her cheeks.



“So that’s it, huh?” Grady’s younger-by-two-years brother, Jace, asked from his seat across from Grady. They were eating an early dinner at a local fifties-style diner. Well, Jace was doing most of the eating. Grady was mostly brooding. “Whatever happened to your not-all-alternatives-have-been-exhausted argument?”

“They haven’t. But I can’t force Olivia to try.” Grady shrugged in a vain attempt to appear unaffected by the last twenty-four hours. “So yeah, that’s it.”

Jace stuffed a few French fries into his mouth, then washed them down with a swig of soda before replying, “That sucks. But I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

Grady stared at his brother in mild annoyance. “That’s some empathy you’ve got going there. You should quit your job at the paper and become a talk-show host.”

“What are you talking about?” To give him credit, Jace looked truly bewildered. “I said it sucks. It does.”

“Nice, Jace. My marriage is over and that’s the best you have? Even for you, that’s a little cold.”

“Not cold. It’s realistic,” Jace said in a firm voice. “I’m sorry for you, but you gotta know that your marriage ended a while ago. At least now, you’re not hanging on in blind hope. Frankly, you’re better off.”

Grady gave his brother a hard stare. “Explain yourself.”

“You’re not happy. From what you’ve told me, Olivia isn’t happy, either. The two of you have been stuck in limbo for years. You need to move past this.” Jace tossed him his trademark grin. The one that had always served as a get-out-of-jail-free card when they were growing up. “Onward and upward. You deserve to find some happiness. That’s all I meant.”

Grady swallowed his annoyance. Jace was unencumbered by love and was about as far away from touchy-feely as a guy could get. He also didn’t mince words. Which, if Grady was honest with himself, was the reason he’d called Jace to begin with. Tonight, the last thing he needed was touchy-feely. “You have a point,” he conceded. “I do want Olivia to be happy again, and I’m obviously not helping in that regard.”

“She’s not helping, either. You’re miserable.” Jace wolfed down the rest of his burger before turning a hungry gaze on Grady’s. “You gonna eat that?”

Grady shoved his plate forward. “Nope. Go for it.”

“Thanks.” Jace swapped their plates, saying, “I think I will.”

Except for the rumble of other folks chattering at nearby tables, the next few minutes were filled with silence. Shock that he was giving up on his marriage made every muscle in his body ache. But enough was enough. What other option did he have? There was a damn fine line between being hopeful and becoming desperate. He’d already gotten closer to that line than he cared for, but he refused to cross it.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel idiotic. He knew his wife well, and last night wasn’t a meaningless romp. Waking up that morning with Olly’s legs entwined with his and her head on his chest had given him a sense of rightness in the world that had been missing for too long. It wasn’t complete. Nothing would ever feel complete again…not without Cody. But damn, being with his wife again had felt good.

Divorce. The word chewed through his gut like acid. So yeah, as ineloquent as his brother’s statement was, Jace was correct. This sucked.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much. Hell, from what I can see, most women are contrary, often self-indulgent and experts at playing games with men,” Jace said, as if reading Grady’s thoughts, albeit a slightly convoluted version of them. “Most of them are just plain crazy.”

“Olivia isn’t like that. The accident changed her…changed us. It isn’t her fault she can barely stand to look at me now.”

Jace’s hand stilled in the air. “Don’t go down that road. You didn’t cause that accident. If she blames you for that—”

“She insists she doesn’t,” Grady said. “But that wasn’t what I meant. I remind her too much of Cody. Every damn time I’m in the same room with her, she looks at me and sees him. Can’t blame her for that.”

Jace leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, his food apparently forgotten. “She isn’t the only person who lost a son. You did, too. Mom and Dad lost their only grandchild, and Seth and I,” Jace said, referring to the youngest brother in the Foster clan, who was currently deployed out of the country, “lost our nephew. There’s a world of hurt here. It sort of seems as if Olivia is only thinking of herself and what she has lost.”

His brother’s words, no matter how honest and heartfelt they were, irritated Grady. “You’re not calling my wife selfish, are you? Yes, you and Seth and Mom and Dad all loved Cody, but it isn’t the same. You can’t know what this feels like, and I hope you never do.”

“Not selfish,” Jace said quickly. “But you have to admit that Olivia has closed herself off from the family. None of us have talked to her in well over a year. Mom and Dad miss her, too.” His voice lowered. “Look, I like Olivia. I always have. And I am sick over what you two have gone through. But hell, Grady—what about you? Has she tried to comfort you? Has she tried to be as present in your life as you have in hers?”

Grady didn’t answer for a second. In the beginning, right after the accident, she had. They’d tried to comfort each other, had turned to each other, but shortly after the funeral, she’d retreated to a place that Grady couldn’t reach. “I don’t think she knows how.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make her lack of trying right. And it doesn’t help you move on, now does it?”

There was some truth there, Grady admitted to himself. Even so, moving on without Olivia didn’t appeal. Sure, visualizing a life without her was possible. Eventually, he’d find a balance and would create a life that made sense. Knowing this, though, didn’t make the prospect any easier to choke down. “It is what it is.”

“It’ll get easier. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but it will,” Jace promised.

The sympathy in Jace’s eyes surprised him. “Don’t look now, but my brother has a heart,” Grady teased. “That was bordering on touchy-feely. Maybe you should give that talk-show-host gig a shot.”

“Nah. I’m good. My column is doing well and the paper lets me do almost anything I want.” Jace tipped his glass and fished out an ice cube. “Can’t ask for much more than that.”

“That will kill your teeth,” Grady said when Jace stuck the ice in his mouth and chomped down. “Hasn’t your dentist taught you anything? Women won’t find you nearly as attractive with a mouthful of broken teeth.”

“Hockey players seem to do okay.” Jace became preoccupied with folding his napkin into tiny squares. “Besides, I’m too busy at work and at the house to date much these days.”

Even if his brother hadn’t avoided eye contact, Grady still wouldn’t have believed him. Jace, with his boyish good looks and ramped-up charisma, was a woman magnet. Hollywood would make bundles if they created a reality show based around Jace’s extreme dating lifestyle. “You’re too busy to date? Right. Tell me another story.”

“I’m serious.” Picking up his unused fork, Jace tapped it against the table, making a rat-a-tat-tat sound. “And it’s not a big deal, so just drop it.”

Grady laughed, believing Jace was joking, and fully expecting him to join in. When his brother remained straight-faced, Grady clamped his jaw shut. He was serious? “Whoa. What’s up with that? I’ve never known you to be too busy for women.”

Jace lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug.

Curious about his brother’s odd behavior, Grady took a leap. “Have you finally met a woman who refuses to be the flavor of the week?”

“She won’t even date me,” Jace muttered, clicking the fork harder against the speckled laminate tabletop. “Shoots me down every time I ask. It’s exasperating.”

“Shoots you down, eh? I never thought the day would come. Who is she?”

Bright splotches of red colored Jace’s cheeks. “Someone I work with. No one special.”

“Well, you’re wrong there.” Grady took in his brother’s pinched expression. “You’re also clueless. A woman who halts your speed-dating lifestyle cannot be described as ‘no one special.’ Why won’t she date you?”

“She thinks I’m a playboy.” The admission was made in a flat tenor, as if Jace couldn’t care less. But his tense body language made it clear how very much he did care. “You are a playboy,” Grady pointed out. “Anyone who spends more than fifteen minutes with you can see that. So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m working on that.” Jace frowned and a light of anxiety, or maybe it was embarrassment, whisked over him. “Just forget it, okay? Let’s talk about something else.”

Grady wanted to press harder, but decided not to. Some things a man had to figure out on his own. “Sure. You said something about the house.” Jace had bought a fixer-upper a couple of years ago with the intent of flipping the house to make a profit. The slowdown of the economy combined with the fact that Jace loved the location had changed his mind. “Are you finally renovating the place?”

Jace tossed him a grateful smile. “I am. The problem is I tear stuff out and then move on to another room without finishing what I started. Maybe you can swing by and help one of these weekends?”

“Sure.” Grady swallowed a chuckle. “Though, if you tear down the entire house and need a place to stay, I have a fairly comfortable couch.”

“It won’t come to that, but thanks.” Jace rubbed one hand over his face and sighed. “I need to take off. I have a column to finish and a couple hours’ work planned on the house. You gonna be okay?”

Grady nodded. “One word of advice and I’ll leave your women problems alone. If you think you could really love this woman, then she’s worth fighting for. If you’re not a playboy, prove that to her. If you’re serious about her, then show her that.”

“Yeah, well…I’m trying.” Jace pulled some bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “Dinner’s on me, seeing as I ate most of it.”

Grady watched his brother amble from the restaurant. Seeing Jace like this took Grady back to the moment when he’d finally come to terms with how important Olivia was to him. On some level, he’d known that he’d fallen for her fast, but he hadn’t truly realized it until an early autumn morning about six months into their relationship.

She’d stayed the night at his place, and he’d woken up first. He’d stared at her, wondering what demons—real or imagined—made her sleep with her entire body crunched defensively into a ball and her arms shielded over her head. A protective instinct roared to life inside of him. An intrinsic yet indefinable something had altered within him at that very second. And, for better or for worse, he hadn’t been the same since.

Not quite ready to leave and go home to his apartment, he motioned for the waitress with his empty cup. In a very real way, he envied Jace. Sure, this woman—whoever she was—might not prove to be anything more than a passing interest, but at this moment, Jace had possibilities that Grady did not.

He wanted those possibilities back, so he went through the previous night and that morning again, remembering every word…every action…every feeling that being with Olivia had stirred up. If only he could find a way to work past the hard shell she’d erected around herself. If only he could find a way to reach her.

The waitress refilled his coffee. He slipped it slowly, his thoughts centered on the problem, his brain searching for an answer. Another two refills later and he had an idea that, if successful, might push through Olivia’s walls.

But if he did this, there’d be a lot of anger at first. He could handle her temper, but he’d also have to cause her pain. And that would be devastating. Could he do that? Begin a path that, no matter how positive the end result might be, hurt the woman he loved?

He thought about the dilemma for a while longer, going over all of the reasons why he should, as well as the very valid reasons why he shouldn’t. But as much as he didn’t want to hurt Olivia, he kept coming back to one question: If, on the other side of the pain, they could help each other heal, if he could help her heal, would the journey be worth it?

The answer was there, staring him down like a friggin’ drill sergeant. Yes.

And this, surprisingly, had little to do with salvaging their marriage. Yes, he wanted that to happen. Desperately, even. But more than that, he wanted to see his wife smile again. He yearned for her to find a place of peace, so she could also find some level of enjoyment in her life again.

Yes, that was what mattered.

When he finally left the diner, the hope that had disintegrated flared back into being. The hope was slender, but he grabbed on to it with everything he had. Hell, he’d never been afraid of taking chances, but this was a risky game he’d decided to play and the consequences were about as high they could go. And, he admitted to himself as he unlocked his truck, she might even hate him at the end of it.




Chapter Three


Olivia gripped the phone tighter. “What do you mean you won’t represent me? You’re the best divorce attorney in Portland and you’re my best friend. It stands to reason that you would be my attorney for this.”

“Calm down, Olivia. I didn’t say I wouldn’t represent you. I said that I had some reservations and I’d have to think about it for a few days,” Samantha said in a soothing tone. “If I decide I can’t, I’ll be happy to pass on some recommendations.”

“But I don’t want anyone else. I don’t think I can do this with anyone else.”

“Then you’re not ready to divorce your husband,” Samantha said in an irritatingly cheerful way. “Which is something you should really think long and hard about.”

“I have thought about it, Sam. I’m confused, I guess. I always assumed that you’d represent me, and you never said you wouldn’t.” Olivia paced the kitchen in an attempt to work out some of her anxiety. “What do you need to think about?”

“Grady is also my friend. It’s a personal conflict of interest. I didn’t say anything before, because frankly, I was hoping you two would work things out and it would never come to this.” Samantha exhaled a sigh. “Besides, whether I represent you or not, I’m still your friend.”

Olivia collapsed on one of her chairs. Between yesterday at Grady’s and now this, everything was spiraling downhill. “Call Grady yourself. Talk to him about this. You’ll see that he’s okay with you representing me.” At least, Olivia thought he’d say that. After all, he mentioned that he hadn’t talked to Samantha in ages, so why would he care? “And now that he’s agreed, things will be so much easier.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Even with his agreement, you two will have to sit down together to hash out the details. I’ve done this long enough to know that a friendly divorce is a myth. Things almost always turn ugly when it comes down to deciding who gets what. I really don’t want to be in the middle of that.”

“He can have anything he wants,” Olivia said. “This will be the simplest divorce you’ve ever handled. I promise!”

“You can’t promise that. What if he wants the house?”

Oh. He wouldn’t take the house from her, would he? As impossible and heartbreaking as it was to think about her son, this was where Cody was born, where they were happy together. Here, she could almost pretend that the past three years were nothing but a horrible nightmare. Here, she could still feel her son’s presence. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. “Um…”

“See? What if he wants Jasper?”

“Okay, that’s just silly. Why would he want the cat?”

“Didn’t Grady and Cody bring Jasper home?” Samantha asked. “Wasn’t getting the cat in the first place Grady’s idea? Now that he knows he won’t ever be moving back in, he might decide he’d like to have Jasper for himself.”

“That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?” Samantha pushed. “You’ve entered into virgin territory, my dear. I’m the expert here, and I’m telling you that people do crazy things in the midst of separating their lives.”

“Oh, come on, Samantha! You know Grady better than that. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You’ve broken his heart, Olivia. You don’t know how he’s going to react.”

Olivia chewed on her bottom lip. Divorce was supposed to ease the pressure on her shoulders and the ache in her heart, give her space to figure out the rest of her life, not increase her struggles. “You really think he’d take my house and my cat?”

“I don’t know. But you have to realize that the Grady you know might not be the same Grady you go into court with. I want to support you, but I don’t want to turn my back on Grady, either.” Samantha sighed again. “I care about both of you. This is a really tough spot for me.”

“I get that.” It was Olivia’s turn to sigh. “How about this? You take some time to think this through, and I’ll talk with Grady. I’ll see where his thoughts are, and if he’s considering yanking me out of my home and stealing my cat away.” The words were said sarcastically, as if Olivia thought the entire matter was a joke. But inside, she wasn’t laughing. She had hurt Grady. And Samantha was the expert on this particular subject. “I-if everything seems okay after I talk with him, will you agree to represent me then?”

“I’d want to talk with him, too. But if that goes well, then yes, of course I’ll represent you, sweetie.”

Relief filtered over Olivia. If forced, she could get through this using someone other than Samantha as her attorney. Well, she was pretty sure she could. But she didn’t want to. All of this was tougher than she’d expected, and having someone she trusted lead her through the maze would make everything a lot easier. “Thank you. I’ll call him and see what we can figure out.”

“One word of advice. Be ready with a list of your combined property and go through every item together. Don’t think anything is too trivial. I’ve seen tempers flare over something as simple as who gets to keep the twenty-five-dollar coffeemaker.”

“I’ll make a list and I’ll be prepared for a Grady I’ve never met before. But I don’t think any of this is necessary,” Olivia said. “We don’t hate each other.”

“No, my dear. You love each other. And those divorces are always the messiest.”

“I think we’ll be fine.”

Samantha’s only response was a very unladylike grunt. Olivia let that go, and instead, changed the topic to something less emotionally draining. After a few more minutes, they finished their conversation and hung up.

Olivia stared at the phone in her hand, considering calling Grady now to set up a meeting for later in the week. But she wasn’t ready to hear his voice, so with a sigh, she tossed the phone on the counter and made her way into the living room. Ever since Grady’s agreement yesterday morning, all she wanted was to get the process started. To her, it was like ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster you did it, the less it would hurt. That was her hope, anyway.

She’d barely settled on the couch with a book when the rumble of a vehicle turning into her driveway had her jumping up to look out the window. Shivers rolled through her when she saw Grady exiting his truck and heading up the front walk. What did he want? He almost never stopped by without some type of a prior warning.

She gave serious thought to ignoring the doorbell when it rang. Her car was parked in the garage so she could easily pretend she wasn’t home. And even though Grady still had a key to the house, he respected her privacy. The bell pealed again. Samantha’s concerns reverberated in Olivia’s mind. Oh, what the hell. Maybe she and Grady could work some of this out now and get it over with. Before she made it to the door, however, she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

What in heaven’s name did he think he was doing?

Grady waltzed in, caught sight of her hovering near the end of the hallway and gave her the widest grin she’d ever seen. That should have been her first clue. “Hi, honey,” he drawled. “I’m home.”

“Wh-what?” He certainly didn’t appear to be a man with a broken heart.

“I said I’m home.” He raised his brows in question. “I rang the doorbell twice. Why didn’t you answer?”

“I was busy. And I didn’t know you were coming over.” She put her hands on her hips in an attempt to ignore the sinking sensation currently developing in the lower regions of her stomach. “And since when do you let yourself in? You don’t live here anymore, Grady.”

“Oh, but I do. I’m moving back in until we get this divorce stuff worked out. As of now.” His stride ate up the floor between them in mere seconds. Leaning in close, he tugged a strand of her hair. “Won’t it be fun being roomies again?”

“Wh-what?” she stuttered again. “You’re joking, right? You can’t do that!”

“Oh, I can. I checked it out with my attorney.” Now he chucked her chin, as if she were a child. “This is perfectly legit.”

“It’s Sunday.” She backed out of his reach and instructed herself to stay calm, to focus on the facts. “How did you hire an attorney on a Sunday?”

“She…I mean he’s a friend of Jace’s. Nice fellow and a really smart guy. He gave me some great advice.” Grady winked. “Advice I’ve decided to take.”

“He gave you crap advice if he told you that you can move back into a house you haven’t lived in for almost a full year!” No way was this happening. Uh-uh. Not if she had anything to say about it.

“But I can. Did you miss that, Olly? I own this house as much as you do, and we’re still legally married, we were never legally separated, and none of our property has been divided. So yes, I’m moving in until a judge tells me I have to move out.” Grady’s grin widened. She sort of wanted to slap him. Hard. “I have some stuff in the truck, but I’ll be bringing more over throughout the week.”

“No. I won’t allow this,” she said in a shaky whisper. He couldn’t live here with her. No, no, no. Talk about a compromising position. She barely had enough strength to deal with him when she had to, but his being here every single day? No. “Absolutely not.”

“Want to help bring a few things in?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her.

“No, I do not! Don’t move a muscle, Grady. I’m calling Samantha. She’ll tell you that you can’t do this!” She didn’t give him time to answer, just raced to the kitchen to grab the phone. When Sam answered, Olivia breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Sam?”

“Hey. That was quick. What’s up?”

“Grady’s here. He says that some crackpot lawyer told him he can move back into the house.” The front door slammed shut. Olivia ran into the living room and peered through the drapes. “Sam! He’s bringing in his luggage. You have to tell him that he can’t do this.”

“Do the two of you still own the house together?” Samantha asked, her voice strangely calm.

“Yes, but—”

“Then he can. He’s your husband and the house is his property, too, sweetie. It seems as if he’s staking a claim.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“At the moment? Nothing. But once you hire an attorney, you can ask the court to force Grady to move out for the duration of the divorce proceedings,” Samantha mused. “He hasn’t lived there for a while, so that might help you. But the facts will come out. He took the apartment to give you space in the hopes that you two could eventually work on your marriage. It’s a possibility that a judge won’t view that as property abandonment. And trust me, you’re better off if you and Grady can decide who’s getting what. Don’t let a judge make those decisions if you can help it.”

Olivia ran to the hallway and pointed to the door when it opened again. “Don’t do this, Grady. Please.”

He grinned and deposited two large suitcases on the floor. “Any plans for dinner yet? I thought we could order a pizza,” he said, before heading back out to his pickup. Forget sort of. She wanted to see her hand mark in glaring red on his cheek.

“You’re not eating here!” Olivia hollered after him.

“Olivia? What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“He wants to order pizza. To eat. Here. After he unpacks, I’m assuming.” She kicked one of Grady’s suitcases. Hard. So hard she probably bruised her toe. “He can’t stay here.”

“He can, Olivia. You can stay with me until you can get a court date, but there’s always the possibility that a judge will order you to move out. Do you want to take that chance?”

“No, of course not. I’d rather work this out with Grady. And I’m not leaving.”

“Then you’re stuck with him living there for now.”

“Great. Just freaking great.” Olivia pushed the end button on the phone. When Grady returned with a third and fourth bag, she picked the first two up and dragged them outside.

“Thanks, babe. But that’s a little counterproductive. I’m trying to move in, not out,” Grady said. “Bring them back in, and I’ll get settled. Then we can order a couple of pizzas. Pepperoni and sausage sound good?”

“I say no. Do you hear me Grady Foster? I say no!”

He cocked his head to the side and appraised her as if she were the one who’d lost her mind. As if. “First the chicken marsala and now pepperoni and sausage pizza? You really have changed.”

“I’m not talking about the pizza. You. Can’t. Stay. Here.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’m okay with letting you live at the apartment while we deal with this divorce business.” Grady scratched his chin in thought. “A judge might see that as you not having any interest in the house, though. Is that the case, Olly? Are you giving me the house?”

Oh, God. Samantha had been right. Grady had turned into a freaking lunatic. “Of course I want the house,” Olivia said. “And I am not living in your apartment.”

Her soon-to-be ex-husband let out an exaggerated sigh. “Then I guess we’re right back where we started from. If you don’t want pepperoni and sausage, then what?”

“I want you to leave. Please, Grady. Go home.”

He gave her a look of false surprise. “You really don’t want me to stay here? I could come in handy…your sidewalks need shoveling, for one thing.”

“No, actually I do. Every time I tell you to leave, I’m being coy,” she snapped. “No, no, no and no I do not want you to stay here.”

He entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a couple of beers before sitting down at the kitchen table. Jasper, who must have heard the commotion, came in to investigate. Seeing Grady, he leapt into his lap with a meow.

“Well, then let’s talk.” Grady scratched the area between the cat’s ears. Jasper purred like an engine going into overdrive and snuggled in. The traitor. “Maybe we can work something out.”

She narrowed her eyes. Her husband was absolutely up to something, but damned if she could figure out what. She hated—oh, how she hated—when he had the upper hand. She almost grabbed her keys and left him there alone, but what would that prove? Only that he’d driven her out of her house. With her cat in his lap, no less. Uh-uh.

Giving in, she took the seat across from him. “What do you want? Is it Jasper? Do you want my cat, Grady?”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought about Jasper, but yeah, maybe I do.” He slid a beer over to her. “Have a drink. Let’s see what we can come up with that will be beneficial to both of us.”

She twisted the cap off the bottle but didn’t take a drink. “You obviously want something. Just tell me what it is.”

“I think the first question to answer is what you want. So, what do you want more than anything else right at this minute?”

Cody. Always Cody. Followed by Grady… Well, the normal Grady. Not this insane version of Grady. “You to get the hell out of this house. Now, preferably.”

“See? Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a reasonable want, and certainly doable.” He swallowed a gulp of beer. “Now, we need to figure out something that will get me to leave. So, Olly. What are you willing to do to put me back in my apartment tonight?”




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