“Friday morning?” He sat up again and then groaned when his stiff muscles protested. “What day is it?”
“Relax. It’s early Saturday morning.”
He peered over. “You’ve been here all night?”
She inclined her head. “You were very sick. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you.”
He fell back to the pillow. “Honest Liz.”
“That’s why hundreds of people let me and my company into their homes every week to clean. My reputation precedes me.”
He could hear the smile in her voice and fought a wave of nostalgia. “I guess thanks are in order.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I probably owe you an apology for fondling your butt.”
“Oh, so you remember that?”
This time she laughed. The soft sound drifted to him, smoothed over him, made him long for everything he’d had and lost.
Which made him feel foolish, stupid, weak. She was gone. He had lost her. He could take total blame. But he refused to let any mistake make him weak.
“You know what? I appreciate all the help you’ve given me, but I think I can handle things from here on out.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m not kicking you out. I’m granting you a pardon. Consider this a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Okay.” She rose from the chair. Book under her arm, she headed for the door. But she stopped and glanced back at him. “You’re sure?”
He’d expect nothing less from her than absolute selflessness. Which made him feel like an absolute creep. He tried to cover that with a smile so she wouldn’t even have a hint of how hard just seeing her was for him. “I’m positive. I feel terrific.”
“Okay.”
With that she opened the door and slipped out. When the door closed behind her, he hung his head. It had been an accident of fate that he’d gotten the flu the very day she was here to clean his house. But he wasn’t an idiot. His reaction to her proved that having her back in his life—even as a temporary employee—wasn’t going to work. The weeks it took Ava to find a permanent maid would be filled with a barrage of memories that would overwhelm him with intense sadness one minute and yearning for what might have been the next.
He should get rid of her. That’s what his common sense was telling him to do. But in his heart he knew he owed her. For more than just staying with him while he was sick. He should have never talked her into marrying him.
Chapter Three
IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK when Liz finally fell into bed. Ellie called her around eleven, reminding her that they were taking Amanda Gray and her children, the family who had moved into the Friend Indeed house the weekend before, to the beach.
She slogged out from under the covers and woke herself up in the shower. She pulled a pair of shorts and a navy-blue-and-white striped T-shirt over her white bikini, and drove to Amanda’s temporary house. Ellie’s little blue car was already in the driveway. She pushed out into the hot Miami day and walked around back to the kitchen door.
“Mrs. Harper!” Amanda’s three-year-old daughter Joy bounced with happiness as Liz entered and she froze.
Liz had been part of the welcoming committee when Amanda and her children had arrived at the house, but until this very second she hadn’t made the connection that Joy was about the age her child would have been.
Her child.
Her heart splintered. She should have a child right now. But she didn’t. She’d lost her baby. Lost her marriage. Lost everything in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
Swallowing hard, she got rid of the lump in her throat. The barrage of self-pity that assailed her wasn’t just unexpected; it was unwanted. She knew spending so much time with Cain had caused her to make the connection between her baby and Joy. But that didn’t mean she had to wallow in it. Her miscarriage had been three years ago. She’d had therapy. She might long for that child with every fiber of her being, but, out of necessity, she’d moved on.
Amanda, a tall redhead with big blue eyes, corrected her daughter. “It’s Ms. Harper, not Mrs.”
“That’s okay,” Liz said walking into the kitchen, knowing she had to push through this. If she was going to work in the same city as her ex, she might not be able to avoid him. She most definitely couldn’t avoid all children the same age her child would have been. Being in contact with both might be a new phase of her recovery.
She could handle this. She would handle this.
“Smells great in here.”
“I made French toast,” Ellie said, standing at the stove. “Want some?”
“No. We’re late.” She peeked into the picnic basket she’d instructed Ellie to bring. “When we get to the beach, I’ll just eat some of the fruit you packed.”
“Okay.” Ellie removed her apron and hung it in the pantry. “Then we’re ready to go.”
Amanda turned to the hall. “I’ll get Billy.”
Billy was a sixteen-year-old who deserted them the second the two cars they drove to the beach stopped in the public parking lot. Obviously expecting his desertion, Amanda waved at his back as he ran to a crowd of kids his own age playing volleyball.
Amanda, Ellie and Liz spent the next hours building a sand castle with Joy who was thrilled with all the attention. Around four o’clock, Ellie and Amanda left the sand to set up a picnic under their umbrella.
Joy smiled up at Liz. “Do you like sand?”
She gazed down at the adorable cherub. The wind tossed her thin blond locks. Her blue eyes sparkled. Now that Liz was over the shock of realizing Joy and her baby would have been close to the same age, she felt normal again. Strong. Accepting of that particular sadness in her life. That was the difference between her and Cain. She’d dealt with her loss. She hadn’t let it turn her into someone who couldn’t connect with people.
“I love the beach. I’m happy to have someone to share it with.”
Joy nodded enthusiastically. “Me, too!”
They ate the sandwiches and fruit Ellie had packed for dinner, then Joy fell asleep under the umbrella. Obviously relaxed and happy, Amanda lay beside her daughter and closed her eyes, too.
“So what did you do yesterday?” Ellie singsonged in the voice that told Liz she knew something out of the ordinary had happened the day before.
Liz peered over at Ellie. Did the woman have a sixth sense about everything? “Not much.”
“Oh, come on. You never take a day off. I know something happened.”
Liz grabbed the bottle of sunscreen and put her attention to applying it. Knowing Ellie wouldn’t let her alone unless she told her something, she said, “I was taking care of a sick friend.”
Ellie nudged her playfully. “So? Who was this friend?”
“Just a friend.”
“A man!”
“I said nothing about a man.”
Ellie laughed. “You didn’t need to. The fact that you won’t give me a name or elaborate proves I’m right.”
How could she argue with that?
Ellie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Ellie laughed