Blood Vines

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Tuesday, March 16

2:30 A.M.

Alex opened her eyes to find Tim standing by the bed, staring down at her. A chill raced up her spine.

“Tim? What’re you doing?”

“Watching you.”

She looked past him, saw one of her kitchen chairs. “Have you been here all night?”

“It’s not morning yet.”

She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was still the wee hours of the night. “You need to go get some sleep.”

He looked away, then back, expression rueful. “I’m still in love with you, Alex.”

“Tim, this isn’t the time for-”

“It’s not about sex. It’s not. Once upon a time, maybe. I’m stupid, I admit it.”

He let out a strangled-sounding breath. “When you called me, I felt this incredible relief. I’d thought I’d lost you. Then tonight, when I saw you holding that other man, I felt… everything a man in that situation could. Jealousy and rage. Regret. Longing. Hatred.”

She sat up, bringing the blanket up with her. “This is making me really uncomfortable.”

“I don’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m just-” He knelt beside the bed and gathered her hand in his, brought it to his lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to remind him of all the reasons why they hadn’t made it as a couple. She sensed she had better keep her thoughts to herself and swallowed hard.

He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. “Sitting here, watching over you last night, I realized something. This is what I’m supposed to be doing. Where I’m supposed to be. Watching over you, Alex.”

She’d never seen him quite this way. The note of urgency and desperation in his voice was a surprise. It was unsettling. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Right now, don’t say anything. I’m promising you, I’m here for you. Whatever happens. Whatever you need. You’re not crazy, Alex. We’ll get to the bottom of all this. We’ll do it together.”

“You’re exhausted,” she said softly. “You need sleep. And so do I. Let’s pick this up in the morning? Okay?”

“Sure, babe.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be on the couch.” He crossed to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. “I really do love you.”

“I love you, too.”

But as she scooted back under the covers, she acknowledged that there were many kinds of love. And the kind she had for Tim was more complicated than most.

The next morning, she awakened to the smell of coffee. And something baking. Cookies? Muffins?

Cinnamon rolls, she learned minutes later as she entered the kitchen, teeth and hair brushed, dressed in a pair of faded old jeans and a Cal State sweatshirt. Tim had just taken the pastries from the oven and was slathering icing on them.

He caught sight of her and smiled. “Morning.”

She crossed to the coffeepot and poured herself a mug. “How long have you been up?”

“Long enough to run up to the corner market for the paper, some cream and a roll of the Pillsbury Doughboy’s finest. Have a seat. I’ll bring you one.”

“Thanks.” She sat at the table and curved her hands around the warm mug and sipped.

“There you go.” He set a plate in front of her, then went back for his. A moment later, he sat across from her and dug in.

She watched him eat a moment, then shook her head. “What’s going on, Tim?”

“Nothing. Why?” He took a huge forkful of the warm roll.

“You’re not a morning person.”

“This morning I am.” He got to his feet, refilled his cup, then returned to the table. “I’ve got to head back today. I’ve got a faculty meeting this morning.”

Tim was leaving? The realization shouldn’t have shaken her, but it did. “Do you have to?”

“It’s a command performance.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do.”

He grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”

She meant it. What would she do? There was no need to ask any more questions about the past or her mother-she knew more now than she wanted to.

Boys of the Vine.

She wished she could go back. Wished she had left all this alone. Stayed in San Francisco, clinging to the photograph of her mother and Dylan and her foolish belief that her mother had been as much of a victim as Dylan had been.

“I know what you need.” She cocked an eyebrow and he laughed. “No, I didn’t mean that, though you probably do need it. A spa day.”

She burst out laughing. “Right. A spa day.”

“The Kenwood Inn and Spa is just down Sonoma Highway. My first wife adored the place. We spent one Valentine’s Day weekend there.”

“I can’t afford that.”

“I’ll pay.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“Too bad, it’s already done.”

“What do you mean, already done?”

“Just what it sounds like. I booked you a spa day. It’s paid for in full. Consider it a birthday gift.”

A birthday… and then she remembered, tomorrow was her birthday. With everything that had been happening, she’d forgotten. “I can’t believe you. When did you do this?”

“Last night. While you were in the ladies’ room at the girl & the fig.”

“Sneaky. Very.”

He stood and crossed to her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll know you’re safe. That’s really important to me. Then I’ll be back tonight. We’ll figure this out.”

She searched his gaze. The truth was, having him to turn to and lean on had been a relief. He knew her. He understood how to support without smothering. She trusted him completely.

And he didn’t think she was crazy.

Maybe that was the biggest relief of all. She would hold tightly to that, because the way things had been going, that could change in the blink of an eye.