A Sip of You(48)

I paused and glanced over my shoulder at him. He stood at the AGA over a large Dutch oven. Already a wonderful herby aroma scented the kitchen. William looked exhausted. Faint smudges darkened the skin under his eyes, and his shoulders slumped slightly. But even as I watched, he rolled those same shoulders and took a sip of wine. The act of cooking was relaxing him and helping to ease some of the tension between us, thank God.

I took another sip of wine, figuring it couldn’t hurt. It hadn’t escaped my notice that we still weren’t discussing the really important issues. By the time I finished chopping and drank a second glass of wine, William had finished assembling his stew. I was warm and slightly buzzed and ready to talk. “So where were you on Monday?” I asked, leaning against the counter and playing with the rim of my all-but-empty wine glass. “And how about Tuesday? Why did you leave me alone?”

He didn’t speak immediately. I saw his back straighten, but he continued stirring the big cast iron pot simmering away on the AGA.

“You haven’t offered any explanation,” I pointed out. “Why did you leave me alone?”

“You weren’t alone, Catherine.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You were at Casa di Rosabela with my staff at your service. I thought you’d enjoy it, actually. You were comfortable, your every need was seen to, and you were safe.”

“Yes, safe as a bird in a cage.”

He frowned at me and looked back down at the Dutch oven, lifting his spoon to stir again. “I hadn’t planned to be gone more than a day, but plans don’t always work out.”

“I get that, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t tell me any of this—not where you were, when you thought you’d be back, what was going on with the whole Wyatt situation.” I stepped forward, anger surging through me. “You didn’t contact me for three days, William. We talked about this, remember? No more secrets. You promised me no more secrets.” I heard my voice rising, reaching an almost shrill pitch. I hated it. Not only was I the girl who’d left in his time of need, now I was the shrill nagging girlfriend.

William set down the spoon and turned slowly to face me. “I was in Canada. In the Yukon, just north of Whitehorse. I couldn’t get any cell service, which was why I couldn’t call or text. I’d planned to be back by Monday night, but there was heavy snow and we couldn’t take off. My staff told you I was fine, and I was. I was just delayed.”

Shock shuddered through me. I felt as if I’d been hit by a blast of arctic air. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Fucking unbelievable!” I had to move. Had to do something besides throw a plate at his thick skull. I stomped out of the kitchen, then turned and stomped right back in again. This was so not over.

“How can you think telling your housekeeper or your hired thug you’re fine is the same as telling me? I don’t work for you. I’m your girlfriend, not your employee. I’m entitled to hear from you directly.”

“Catherine.” He stepped toward me, but I held up a hand. I wasn’t even close to finished.

“And how do you justify flying off to God-knows-where Canada without even a head’s up? Hey, Cat, going to fly to Canada tomorrow. Might not be back for dinner. You just left. And you didn’t even say goodbye. Why did you go there? Obviously it had something to do with the whole Wyatt situation, but that’s a guess because you’re keeping me in the dark about that too.”

I stepped closer to him, inches from his face. “I care about you, William. I worry about you. Do you think I wanted to go to Napa? You said you needed me. You said you couldn’t do it alone. I wanted to be there for you. Why couldn’t you let me?” I swiped a hand across my cheek, wiping away tears. I didn’t want to cry. I hated crying in front of other people, but my frustration and anger and worry had all coalesced into a hot ball in the pit of my stomach. The tears came unbidden. “Why won’t you let me in?”

“Don’t cry.” William pulled me into his arms. “I don’t want you to cry.” I resisted but his arms tightened around me and I buried my face in his warm, muscular chest. I was still pissed as hell, but it felt so good to be held by him as I sobbed. This was where I felt safest—in his arms, surrounded by that musky scent that was uniquely him, and hearing the steady thump of the heartbeat in his chest.

The stubborn tears continued to fall, and gradually William pulled away and tipped my chin up. He used his thumb, large and masculine, to wipe the tears away. Why did everything have to be so complicated between us? We could be so good. I knew we could.