The Last Man on Earth Page 18

  She waited for him to kiss her.

  He did, but it was with a quick, almost sexless brush of his lips that was over almost as soon as it had begun.

  “Good night,” he said. “Drive safely.”

  “You too,” she whispered around the sudden lump in her throat. “Good night.”

  She barely remembered the trip home. Her nerves were stretched as tight as a bowstring by the time she let herself into her apartment. Only when the door was closed and locked behind her did she give in to the tears.

  • • •

  It was Friday night and she’d had a long, dreadful week and an even longer dreadful day. Zack had called the night before, asking if they could meet at her apartment this evening instead of the usual out-of-the-way spot. He wanted to talk, he’d said. She hadn’t asked about what. She already knew—he wanted to break up.

  Madelyn fastened the backing onto the second half of a pair of earrings and checked her image in the mirror. She was wearing a silky green pantsuit that hugged each and every curve. If he wanted to end it between them, there was little she could do to stop him. But she figured he should have one last eye-popping look at exactly what it was he was about to give up.

  She couldn’t even blame him. From the start, Zack had been up front about what he wanted. Sex without strings. Pleasure and no regrets.

  But she did have regrets.

  How naive and stupid she’d been to think she wouldn’t. Casual romantic involvements simply weren’t in her nature. Her emotions ran too deep. She felt too much, and with him she felt far more than she’d ever dreamed she could, or would. Lately, she’d indulged in the fantasy that he’d fallen in love with her too. Then she’d had to go and ruin what they did have by saying those three condemning little words, the ones that had made him pull away like a scalded cat.

  Well, she wasn’t going to grovel. She’d put on her best face, smile her brightest smile, and pretend that losing him didn’t hurt worse than having her heart ripped out of her chest. As for the “I love you” that had rolled out of her big, stupid mouth in the heat of the moment, she’d been drunk, hadn’t known what she was saying. People said and did all sorts of things they didn’t really mean, especially in moments of inebriated passion. At least she thought they did.

  The buzzer sounded. He was here. Without waiting, she pressed the door-release button to let him inside the building. She pinched some color into her pale cheeks, forced her lips to curve into a happy shape, and went to answer the door.

  “You should check to make sure who it is before you buzz people in,” Zack scolded as he bent to press a warm kiss against her lips. “You could have been letting a homicidal maniac into the building.”

  “There are only so many homicidal maniacs around, even in New York. I figured chances were good one of them wouldn’t show up at the same moment as you.” She closed the door behind him.

  “Here, these are for you.” He held out a bouquet of flowers—a cheerful mixture of pink roses, yellow lilies, and white baby’s breath.

  Surprised, she accepted them and buried her nose against the petals of one cool, satiny rose. The scent was pure heaven. Why had he brought them? Was it was usual for a man to give presents to the woman he was leaving? A consolation gift of sorts?

  She shook the notion aside. “They’re lovely. Thank you. I . . . I should find a vase.” She fled into the kitchen.

  Zack followed.

  She seemed nervous, no doubt wondering what he’d stopped by to say. He was a bit nervous too, he realized, although he shouldn’t be.

  He loitered in the kitchen doorway, watching as she reached upward for a vase, one that resided on the top shelf of a tall cabinet. The sight of her was one he couldn’t help but enjoy, especially the way the material of her pantsuit molded itself to the rounded curves of her bottom and hips.

  He stepped close. “Here, let me get that down for you.” It was an easy stretch for him; he retrieved the vase and handed it to her. But he didn’t move away. Instead he took hold of her hips to press her back against him, then bent his head to skim kisses over her cheek, the arch of her neck.

  “I meant to wait for a few minutes at least, but it’s hard not to touch.” He leaned into her a fraction more. “Very hard.”

  Madelyn set the vase on the counter, fearing she might break it otherwise. “You said you wanted to talk.”

  He turned her slowly to face him. “I did, but it can wait, for now.” His lips lowered toward hers.

  She stopped him with scarcely a breath remaining between. “No, you’ve got me curious—well, more than curious. Tell me now.” Did he think he could enjoy one last mattress dance with her, then say good-bye? She didn’t think so.

  He paused, catching the insistent gleam in her eyes. “All right.” He straightened but kept his hands steady at her waist. “Last weekend started me thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Us. How little time we have together. The way we have to hide ourselves and sneak around, pretending we feel nothing for fear someone else might see. The secrecy was okay at first, exciting even, but it’s gotten old. I think we need to reconsider our current arrangement.”

  Her heart slammed inside her chest. Was this it? Was he going to end it now?

  He linked his hands with hers. “I know we made rules, agreed to keep this between us and us alone, a fling we could both enjoy until the thrill ran out, but we’ve gone beyond that now. Seeing you on the weekends and an occasional stolen evening in between simply isn’t enough anymore. I want you with me openly, at work during the day and in my bed at night, together whenever and wherever we choose. I want to quit hiding. I’m hoping you want that too.”

  “You mean you aren’t breaking up with me?” she blurted.

  “Is that what you thought? That I’d come here tonight to end things between us?”

  She nodded. “You’ve been so distant this week, ever since our last night in Atlantic City when I said . . . when I said . . .”

  “When you said you loved me?” he murmured. “So you do remember.”

  “Yes. I remember your reaction as well.”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind, a lot of things I needed to sort through. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He cradled her face in his palm, tracing his thumb across her cheek. “Did you mean it, Red? About loving me?”

  As blue as a summer lake, her eyes reflected the devotion she felt. “Yes, I meant it. Do you feel the same about me?”

  Discussing his feelings was never easy, but for her, for Madelyn, he’d try. “I need you; I know that. I want you more than I can ever remember wanting a woman, any woman. But love, that’s not an emotion I’m very comfortable with. And I can’t say I actually believe it exists, not in the romantic way I think you mean. Caring, protecting, those are feelings I can understand. I care about you Madelyn. I want to be with you and to see you happy. I want us to be happy together.”

  What exactly was he saying?

  He wanted her. He needed her. He cared for her and wished for her happiness, their happiness. Far from wanting to break up, it sounded like Zack was looking to make a real commitment. . . . A small tendril of hope sprang to life inside her. “Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked hesitantly.

  His eyes widened. “Marry you? No, that’s not what I meant at all. . . .”

  She shrank back, crushed as if she were a bug he’d stomped into the floorboards. She yanked her hands free. “Oh, then never mind.”

  “Obviously I haven’t explained myself well.”

  “No, you obviously haven’t.”

  She tried to squeeze around him, to flee, but he caught her, trapping her with an arm on either side. “Madelyn, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “You’re taking this all wrong, especially the last part, the marriage part.”

  “And how should
I be taking it?”

  “Not personally, that’s how. I’m not against marrying you per se. It’s marriage I’m against.”

  “Oh? So it’s a philosophical matter, then?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, fuck your philosophy.”

  He winced but refused to back down. “This isn’t some excuse I’ve made up to give myself a convenient out whenever I want one. I’ve got an out right now, a free pass we both know I can use anytime I want. It’s what you thought I’d come here tonight to do, isn’t it? To get out. And if I’d told you I wanted out, you’d have let me go.”

  “Yes,” she agreed in a low voice. “Of course I would have.”

  He clasped her arms, rubbing his hands slowly up and down from elbow to shoulder. “But that’s not what either of us wants. Why does the issue of marriage have to matter now when it didn’t only a few minutes ago?”

  Why? she mused. Because his feelings, his attitudes, were out in the open, because the truth once spoken could never be taken back. Because she loved him and wanted him forever and he didn’t feel the same. Still, she had to know. “Why are you so opposed to marriage? I don’t understand.”

  He released her and began to pace the room. “Because it changes people, Madelyn, and not for the better. Relationships don’t last. Look at Billy Aikens. If you’d known him when I did, known his wife, you’d have thought it impossible they’d ever split up. They were happy; I mean, really happy. Even when they fought you knew it was only temporary, a quick storm that would blow through and leave no lasting damage. But time passes, things change, feelings end. If they couldn’t make it, hell, who can? And what do they have to show for their twelve years? Battered hearts and a pair of kids that can’t be conveniently split down the middle.”

  He fisted his hands. “And the kids—they’re the worst part. They don’t understand why their parents despise each other, wondering what they’ve done to turn them that way, desperate to fix it somehow. Only it can’t be fixed. And of course they haven’t done anything wrong; they’re just pawns caught up in somebody else’s nightmare.”

  She thought of his childhood, the small pieces of it he’d shared. His own parents fighting and hating and tearing each other to shreds in ways that had left him and his sister with lifelong scars.

  “But some people make it,” she reasoned. “Some marriages last. My parents have been married for over thirty years and they’re still together, still in love. I know they’re happy. I see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices, know it by the way they touch and act when they’re together.” She stepped near and placed a palm against his chest. “Marriage doesn’t have to be bad.”

  “Maybe not, but usually it is and it’s not worth the risk.”

  “How do you know? Until you’ve tried it, how do you know?”

  His eyes were bleak. “I have tried it, and it was a miserable failure. I’m never putting myself through such hell again.”

  Shock and understanding arrived at the same instant, a sturdy piece of her world slipping from beneath her feet. “You were married?”

  “Yes. A long time ago, years now. I was young and stupid, far too stupid to know what I was letting myself in for.”

  “Who was she? What was her name?”

  “Angela, although I don’t know why that matters. I haven’t set eyes on her since the day we filed for divorce.”

  “It matters because she was part of your life, for a while at least. You must have loved her, or thought you did.”

  “I suppose I did at first. But it wore off quickly. She’d gotten what she wanted, a hand up, a way out of the boring drudgery of her life, and a free trip to Europe courtesy of the U.S. Army. I was stationed in Germany for most of my tour of duty—I later discovered it was one of the reasons she decided I’d suit as a husband. She’d always wanted to travel, you see. And she wanted social importance, the kind she’d been excluded from at home.

  “But I wasn’t nearly important enough, not in the long run, especially after she realized I didn’t plan to make a career out of the service. Her rationale, I guess, for seeking greener pastures and a different bed. I heard she married a colonel a few days after our divorce was final. She had initiative—I’ll give her that.”

  “She sounds like a perfect snake.”

  “An apt description and exactly the reason she’s not worth discussing any longer. She’s part of the past and has nothing to do with our lives.”

  “But she does, only she’s not the one being punished here. I am.”

  “My not wanting to marry you is a punishment? I guess I should be flattered at the sentiment. You ought to be counting yourself lucky, though, since believe me, I’m saving you a lot of grief. Sparing us both years of lies and arguments and bitter regrets.”

  Sadness overwhelmed her. “Is that how you think it would be between us? Is that what you think of me? That I’m like her, like Angela? Loving you so little that I’d be willing to hurt and deceive you? Betray you?”

  “No, you’re nothing like her. If you tried, you couldn’t be half the cold-blooded bitch she was.”

  “Then you must believe I’m like your mother, promising you love, then taking it away.”

  “Madelyn—,” he warned.

  “Because she’s part of this too, isn’t she?” Madelyn said insistently. “She taught you early that you can’t count on people, especially women. She taught you not to trust.”

  He scowled but didn’t disagree.

  “You say you want me and need me, but for how long?” she asked. “A few months? A handful of years until you decide it isn’t working and move on? And what about a family? Children?”

  His expression grew darker. “What about them?”

  “Do you want those things? Children and a family? Because I do.”

  “You can’t always have what you want. Sometimes you have to make do with what seems best. Bringing children into this world doesn’t seem best, not to me.”

  “Why?”

  He raked his of fingers through his hair. “Because kids get hurt. Because they don’t understand when their parents lives go to hell and they get caught in the crossfire. I swore long ago that I’d never do that to someone else, especially a child that I was responsible for bringing into this world.”

  Madelyn said nothing, stunned.

  “But why are we having this big debate about marriage and kids?” Zack went on. “We’re a long way from either of those things. Can’t we just enjoy being together? Why do we have to worry about the rest right now?”

  “Because if we don’t worry now, then when will we?” Madelyn drew a quiet breath. “Look, we’ve both said a lot tonight, things that can’t be taken back. What I have to know is whether you think time will change your mind about any of this. Can you give me any reason to hope?”

  Lie, she thought. That’s all you have to do. Just lie and say yes.

  All he had to do was tell her that his feelings about marriage might mellow in time. That he might come around and want children despite the risk. That he might love and trust her enough someday that the wounds of his past wouldn’t matter anymore so long as they were together.

  She waited, praying.

  Then he sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Her chest began to ache. “So you’re offering me what we have now with no secrets, no strings, for as long as it lasts?”

  “Yes, for as long as it lasts.”

  She wanted to cry, but the pain cut too deep. All he could give her was temporary pleasure and nothing more. There would be no home, no family, no children. Not with Zack. Yet knowing all that, she still wanted him. She still loved him. She thought about Brie, how unhappy she was because of loving the wrong man.

  An unattainable man who was never going to change.

  “Why don’t you sleep on it,” he suggested. “You don�
�t need to decide tonight.”

  Moving near, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  For an instant she responded, kissing him back with a wild, almost desperate intensity, breathing him in as if she were taking her last breath. Then she wrenched herself away. If she didn’t do this now, she knew she’d never find the strength again. “I don’t need the night. My answer is no.”

  He was silent for a moment. “All right. Then we’ll leave things the way they are. We’ll keep meeting on weekends and an evening here and there.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “No, you don’t understand. When I say no, I mean no to everything. It’s over, Zack.”

  Anger and disbelief flashed in his eyes. “So you’re ending it?”

  “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “That’s not what you wanted earlier.”

  “A lot has changed since earlier.”

  “And that’s it? Your final decision? End of discussion?”

  “Yes. It’s the end,” she said dully.

  Of her heart.

  Of her hopes.

  And most of all, her happiness.

  His jaw hardened, his eyes fierce. “Fine. Have it your way. I wish you joy in finding the perfect life.”

  He stormed out, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the walls and the pictures hanging on them. The dishes rattled in the kitchen cupboards as well, along with the vase on the countertop, sitting empty—the flowers he’d brought lonely and abandoned nearby.

  That’s when it struck her—the incredible irony.

  She’d been so sure, so worried, that he’d come here tonight to break up with her. Yet in the end she’d been the one to break up with him.

  She dropped onto a hard kitchen chair for support and began to cry.

  • • •

  “Which do you like better? Ivory bisque or the royal pearl?” Peg tapped one well-manicured fingernail against the wedding stationery samples spread across the table between her and Madelyn. “There’s also this one—classic white. Todd liked it, but I don’t know. With men it’s usually ‘the plainer the better and don’t bother me with all that shade stuff.’”