Page 45 of The Playboy and the Widow
“Stan’s death was absolutely nothing in common with what happened between me and some airhead. Becky wandered in and out of my life several years ago and has nothing to do with the here and now.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“I know I am,” he reiterated forcefully.
“But ever since then, you’ve flitted in and out of relationships, gained yourself a playboy reputation and you positively freeze at the mention of the word love. I’d hate to think what would happen if marriage turned up in casual conversation.”
“That’s not true.” He felt like shouting now. Diana hadn’t even known Becky. He was lucky to have gotten away from the two-timing schemer. Diana had it all wrong—he was planning on falling in love and getting married someday. It wasn’t as if he’d been soured on the entire experience.
“I understand how you feel, believe me. Loving someone makes us vulnerable. If we care about anyone or anything, we leave ourselves wide open to pain. Over the years, the two of us have both shielded our hearts, learned to keep them intact. I’m as guilty as you are. I’ve wrapped my heart around hobbies. You use luxuries. The only difference between the two of us is that I have Joan and Katie. If it hadn’t been for the girls, they might as well have buried me in the casket with Stan. It would have been safe there—airless and dark. Certainly there wouldn’t have been any danger of my heart getting broken a second time. You see, after a while the heart becomes impenetrable and all our fears are gone.”
Standing across from her, Cliff braced his hands on the back of the chair. He said nothing.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I finally understand the reason I couldn’t sleep with you. Yes, you were right on target when you said I was physically ready, but emotionally and spiritually I’m miles away. You were right, too, when you claimed there was magic between us. After dating Owen, I recognized that isn’t anything to sneeze at, either.” She paused, and they shared a gentle smile. “But more than that, I realized that without love, without risking our hearts, the magic would fade. A close physical relationship would leave me vulnerable again and open to pain.” She dropped her gaze to the tabletop. “It hurts too much, Cliff. I don’t want to risk battering my heart just because something feels good.”
When she’d finished, the silence wrapped itself around them.
Diana was the first one to speak. “But more than anything, I want you to know how grateful I am to you.”
“Me? Why?”
“You woke me up. You made me feel again.”
“Glad to oblige, Sleeping Beauty.” Cliff hadn’t liked what she’d said—maybe because it hit too close to the truth. She was right; he had changed after Becky, more than he’d ever realized. He wasn’t particularly impressed with the picture Diana had painted of him, but the colors showed through all too clearly. She was right, too, about surrounding himself with luxuries. The sailboat, the fancy sports car, even the ski condo—they were extravagances. They made him feel good, made him look good.
After a long moment, Cliff moved away and emptied his coffee cup into the sink. “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” he said with his back to her.
She’d given them both a lot to think about. Diana walked him to the front door and opened it for him. “Goodbye, Cliff.”
He paused for a moment, then reached for her, folding her in his arms, pressing his jaw against the side of her head. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t dare, because he wasn’t sure he would still be able to walk away from her if he did.
Diana slowly closed her eyes to the secure warmth she experienced in his arms. She wanted to savor these last moments together. After a while, she gently eased herself free.
“Goodbye, Diana,” he whispered, and turned and walked away without looking back.
“Hey, Cliff, how about a cold beer?”
“Great.” He stretched out his hand without disturbing his fishing pole and grabbed for the Bud Light. Holding the chilled aluminum can between his thighs, he dexterously opened it with one hand and guzzled down a long, cold drink.
“This is the life,” Charlie, Cliff’s longtime fishing buddy, called out. His cap was lowered over his eyes to block out the sun as he leaned back and stretched out his legs in front of him. The boat rocked lazily upon the still, green waters of Puget Sound.
“It doesn’t get much better than this,” Cliff said, reaching for a sandwich. The sun was out, the beer was cold and the fish were sure to start biting any minute.
The weather forecast had been for a hot afternoon sun. It was only noon, and already it was beginning to heat up. Charlie and Cliff had left the marina before dawn, determined to do some serious fishing. Thus far neither man had had so much as a nibble.
“I’m going to change my bait,” Charlie said after a while. “I don’t know what’s the matter with these fish today. Too lazy, I guess. It looks like I’m going to have to give them reason to come my way.”
“I think I’ll change tactics, too.” Already Cliff was reeling in his line. It was on days like this, when the fish weren’t eager and the sun was hot, that he understood what it meant to be a fisherman. Once he had his pole inside the boat, he reached for his tackle box and sorted through the large assortment of hand-tied flies and fancy lures. A flash of silver stopped his search. His replacement lucky lure. His fingers closed around the cold piece of silver as his thoughts drifted to Katie. She was rambunctious and clever, and whenever she walked, the eight-year-old’s pigtails would bounce. Grinning, he remembered how she’d leaned over the side of his sailboat and called out to the fish, trying to lure them to her hook before her sister’s. His grin eased into a full smile as he recalled the girls’ antics that Saturday afternoon.
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Charlie mumbled as he tossed his line over the side of the boat.
Cliff was too caught up in his thoughts to care. He’d done a lot of thinking about what Diana had said the other night. In fact, he hadn’t stopped thinking about their conversation. He hadn’t liked it, but more and more he was beginning to recognize the truth in what she’d had to say.
“Cliff?”
Sure, he’d missed Diana, regretted his assumptions about their casually drifting into a physical relationship. But he missed Joan and Katie, too, more than he’d ever thought he would. The instant flare of regret that constricted his heart at the sight of the lure shocked him. He was beginning to care for those two little girls as much as he did for their mother.
“Cliff, good buddy? Are you going to fish, or are you going to kneel and stare into that tackle box all day?”
