Down and Dirty(57)

“So you’re content with the way your life turned out?”

Kitty shook her head. “No.”

Here it came. The bombshell. Cat braced herself for the cold hard truth.

“I’m happy. Content is something different. It’s passive. I’m actively happy and grateful every day for my life. That I have a good, strong marriage with a man I adore, and two children who are healthy and bright and funny. We get to spend our summers by the lake, and our weekends with our friends and family.” She shrugged, her green eyes shiny with tears. “Giving up my career as a violinist wasn’t a sacrifice, or even a compromise. It was a choice. My choice, so I wouldn’t have to be away all the time. I gave up time doing something I loved to spend time doing something I loved even more. Your choices might be different, and that’s okay, too. But to deny yourself happiness now so that you’re not faced with difficult decisions later? That’s not you. That’s not on your bucket list. So what are you doing here, love?”

Cat stared at her mother as those words sank in deep. The memory of her mother’s violin in the study faded to the background and dozens more battled for center stage. Weekends at the lake fishing for bass, baking cranberry muffins every Sunday, cutting carrots for snowmen’s noses, sewing clothes for her teddy bears. Her mother cheering on the sidelines when she’d opted to try out for the boys’ basketball team, and sitting in the hospital just like today, holding her hand while she got stitches from an elbow to the chin. She’d always known she’d had a great childhood, but she’d never imagined that those times had been as important to her mother as they had been to her.

Cat pushed, one more time, afraid to grab on to the fragile ribbon of hope curling around her heart. “If you had a time machine, and could go back?”

Kitty shook her head and shrugged. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The truth of it was plain to see on her mother’s face, and suddenly the weight she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying was suddenly lifted from her shoulders. “What time is it?” she asked Kitty, panic wrestling her newfound elation.

“Four o’clock, why?”

“I’ve got to get out of here.”





Chapter Fourteen

“Now boarding zone three. Passengers in zone four, please have your tickets out, and prepare to board.”

Shane stared sightlessly down at the ticket in his hand, wishing he’d booked the flight for later in the week when they’d had first-class seats available. Then he could’ve kicked back and at least attempted to get some sleep. Flying coach made it near impossible for a guy his size to get comfortable, and that meant wakey-wakey for five and a half hours and probably having to chat with his seatmate. The set of newborn twins seated near the gate window chose that moment to start wailing again, and he winced. They still hadn’t boarded yet either, which meant they were likely in his zone.

“Please God, not my row,” he muttered.

He loved kids, but he’d been sleeping like shit lately, and his patience was wearing thin. He felt a twinge of guilt and a rush of sympathy for the harried mother. She was there alone, and she was probably dreading this flight way more than he was. He remembered his nieces at that age. Traveling had been a royal bitch for his sister. Nothing at all like just being able to pick up and go like people without kids.

His thoughts made the short trip back to Cat, who seemed to take over most of his brain space when he was awake. Or asleep. Or in between.

Fuck.

He missed her way more than he should. How had she become such a huge piece of him in such a short time? Before that night in Atlantic City, it had been a flickering hope. A chance in hell that maybe she was finally ready for something real. Once he’d had a taste, he was sunk, and now nothing less than everything would do.

He folded the newspaper he’d been reading and tucked it into the pouch of his duffel bag, then stood to sling the bag over his shoulder.

“Now boarding zone four.” The intercom blared again, and Shane took a look around to make sure he had all his stuff.

“I don’t cook,” a soft voice called from behind him.

He paused in his tracks.

“And I clean, but only when I have to.”

Shane whipped his head around to see Cat approaching on crutches, with an inflatable cast around her leg. Fear lanced through him.

“Jesus, what happened to y—”

She shook her head furiously, tears filling her green eyes. “It’s so not important. The only thing that’s important is that you don’t go.”

“All zones have been called. Any remaining passengers, please board the aircraft bound for LAX at this time.”