“Never gossiped in my life.” Ken was almost certainly telling him the truth.
“I know. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything. She’d get upset about it, and then she might not ever talk to me again.” Fitz hated the way his voice broke slightly on the last word, but he simply couldn’t control it. He could suddenly see a likely future spinning out from his indulgence last night, and it was a nightmare.
He knew he couldn’t have her. He didn’t have anything to offer her.
But he couldn’t bear the idea of not having her in his life at all. In any way.
“I won’t say anything,” Ken replied in a different tone. Almost gentle, as if he sensed he had to tread carefully to avoid emotional land mines. “But have you ever thought about...?”
“What?”
“Just going for it.”
Fitz’s eyes had strayed back to the house behind him—where Belinda was inside in her cozy red pajamas and loose hair and warm, soft eyes. But at Ken’s question, his gaze shot back to the other man. “Going for it?”
“You know. Going for it. You’re obviously interested, so why not try?”
This was getting ridiculous. Did everyone in this damn town know about Fitz’s feelings for Belinda? “There’s no point.”
“Why not? How do you know if you don’t try? Belinda isn’t like anyone else. She could have had her pick of half the guys in town, but she never gave them any encouragement, so they were all too chicken to try.”
Fitz remembered that achingly poignant look in Belinda’s eye when she said she wanted to be noticed. She really thought she wasn’t wanted. Wasn’t desired. Wasn’t desperately loved for who she was.
When Fitz didn’t answer, Ken went on, “You can stand up to her. A lot of guys can’t. Don’t see why it’s not worth trying.”
“Look at me, Ken. I’ve got nothing she’d want.” For the first time in years, Fitz wished he were different. Better. More impressive. More attractive. More successful. Something that would be a better match for Belinda.
“Seems to me like that’s your choice. You could make more of an effort if you wanted.” Ken shrugged and started to jog in place, signaling the end to the conversation. “What the hell do I know? Except I thought I wasn’t the kind of man Madeline deserved, and I still think she could do better. But she doesn’t want better. She just wants me.”
The words were spoken with Ken’s typical leisurely manner, but they sliced through Fitz’s chest anyway. Then Ken jogged away from him, leaving Fitz alone with nothing but riotous thoughts.
HE GOT HOME TWENTY minutes later, breathless from the cold, dark walk and a lot of questions he still didn’t have answers for.
His place was one room and a bathroom. Twin bed with simple sheets and one plain blanket. A small closet with a motley assortment of worn clothes. A table against the wall with one chair that served as desk and dining area and general catchall. And a minimal kitchenette with two lower cabinets, a half-sized sink, and a minifridge.
This was his life now. He got paid in cash. He paid his expenses the same way. He didn’t even have a bank account since when he’d moved there he hadn’t wanted to put down any roots. He’d assumed in a couple of years he’d stick another pin in the map and move again.
But he’d liked it there, so he never had.
There was an unframed mirror on the back of his door. He walked over to it and stared at himself, barely recognizing the unkempt man who looked back at him.
Was that really him? Half bear and half scarecrow? No wonder Belinda chided him for his grooming. No wonder she would never seriously consider him as anything but a pest who occasionally helped her out with work around the house.
He’d been a normal man before. He’d had a stressful job, managing his family’s real estate company. He’d worn suits. He’d had short, curly brown hair and blue eyes and a clean-shaven face. He’d often worked seventy-hour weeks. He’d had as much of a social life as his work schedule had allowed. He’d had friends and girlfriends and social acquaintances and a family. He’d assumed he’d eventually get married and have kids.
His life hadn’t been perfect, but it had felt all right. Normal.
Then his family had died, and he’d been left with a mountain of grief and responsibility. None of which he’d wanted.
So he’d run away. He’d left everything. He’d made a life for himself with no ties, no burdens, no expectations. No tidal wave of pain waiting to crash over him if he held on too tightly or made one wrong step. He’d hidden who he really was from the world.
Part of him still wanted that. Wanted the freedom it had offered him.
But the rest of him had to finally acknowledge that he also wanted more.
He didn’t want everything he’d had before. He didn’t want his old job or his old stress or the family fortune he hadn’t earned. He didn’t want to risk that tidal wave again.
But he also didn’t want to live alone for the rest of his life. And he wanted Belinda.
Maybe Ken was right. Maybe it was worth a shot. Maybe he could make an effort and not let the best thing that had ever happened slip away without even reaching out for it.
He stood staring at himself for almost fifteen minutes as he came to a number of conclusions.
Then he dug through his closet until he found scissors, a razor, and a comb.
AT FIVE O’CLOCK THAT afternoon, Fitz went back over to Belinda’s house with the supplies he’d need to fix her fence.
He’d done a rough estimate in his mind about the best time to go over. He knew she was having Christmas dinner with Ria and Jacob at one, and they’d need time to eat and hang out and exchange presents and whatever else they were doing.
But Ria and Jacob weren’t likely to stay at Belinda’s all day. Not with a new baby. So he figured five was a good time to show up.
She might be alone, in which case he could keep her company. And either way, he had a good excuse. He wanted to fix her fence anyway.
There were no extra cars in the driveway when he arrived, so he figured his timing had worked out well. When he was hit with a sudden case of nerves, he decided to just start working at the fence. She’d probably see him and come out to say hello.
He’d been working for about fifteen minutes when he saw the front door open. His heartbeat accelerated. He felt like a teenage boy with his first crush. He was too excited and self-conscious to even turn around.
“Hey,” he heard her say as she walked toward him. “You didn’t have to do this on Christmas day.”
“That’s all right.” He steeled his will, straightened up, and turned around with a smile. “I don’t mind.”
He’d trimmed his hair and cleaned up his beard. He wasn’t ready to shave it off completely, but it was a lot shorter now. Neat. He thought he looked better, and he wanted to know what Belinda thought.
As soon as she saw his face, she squealed and jumped backward, dropping the wrapped gift she’d been holding.
“What the hell?” he muttered with a frown. That was not the reaction he’d been going for.
“What happened?” she demanded, flushed and wide-eyed. She leaned over to pick up the dropped gift.