If You Loved Me Read Free

voiced none of them, because she'd vowed she wouldn't be an overprotective parent like her father, and she'd fought from Chris's birth to keep the fears suppressed.
    She parked at her small Cornwall Street house ahead of Alex, then unlocked the front door and went inside. No blinking red light on the answering machine, just Marmalade curled on the chair beside the telephone table.
    Emma scratched gently under the cat's chin, evoking a soothing purr. Then she picked up the phone and called her answering service, although she knew Chris would have called the office or the house, not her service.
    When Chris had promised to call by the twelfth, he would have meant before midnight. It was only eight now. Two healthy boys—young men, really—traveling north in a kayak. They'd be telling the tale of their journey to someone at the docks in Prince Rupert. Then, soon, Chris would phone.
    She walked to the kitchen, careful not to trip on Marmalade, who jumped down to twist around her ankles. Emma opened the freezer and pulled out frozen lasagna and a foil-wrapped loaf of frozen garlic bread. She set the oven and put the lasagna in, then turned the timer to thirty minutes to remind her to add the bread.
    Then she opened a tin of food for Marmalade.
    When she heard the doorbell, she called out, "In here, Alex."
    He knew the way.
    They'd known each other ever since Emma joined the Green Children's Clinic after finishing her residency, four years ago. They consulted frequently in the course of their work. Alex was the clinic's general pediatrics specialist and frequently referred children to Emma for orthopedic surgery.
    After Paul died, Alex had asked Emma to dinner a few times over the years, always casually, never pushing it or making her uncomfortable.
    She hadn't needed a man in her life. She'd had Chris, and her mother who had joined their household after Emma's father died. The three of them made a complete unit.
    Then, abruptly, the house emptied. First Chris moved into a dorm at the university last September. Too young, she'd thought, but he'd finished high school a year early and she knew she couldn't hold him back. Then, at Christmas, Emma's mother had married the widower next door and headed for Florida in a motor home.
    After six months of living in an empty house, working too late and growing increasingly exhausted, Emma began to accept Alex's invitations.
    "I wish Chris would phone," she said, as she tore the lettuce into shreds.
    "He'll call." Alex slid onto one of the stools in her breakfast nook. "He'll be fine."
    "I know, but I'll be antsy until he calls. Don't try to talk me out of it."
    "All right, I won't." He picked up a piece of lettuce from the bowl and ate it. "I think we should get married."
    "What?"
    "Married, a ceremony at the courthouse, then I move in here or you move into my place. Your place is bigger."
    A strand of blonde hair fell across her eyes. She shoved it out of the way. "You're trying to distract me so I won't worry about Chris. I know it's not time to worry yet. He's seventeen, almost eighteen. He's been taking Outward Bound wilderness excursions since he was fourteen. He knows what he's doing, and I really don't think anything's happened. It's just—"
    Alex stood and walked around the end of the counter, took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him. "If he doesn't call tonight, it will be because the weather turned foul and he's sensibly huddled in a tent with that friend of his."
    "Yes, you're right." Of course he was right. "Jordy's with him. If anything happened, surely—I think I'll call the Coast Guard and check the weather forecast for the north coast."
    She saw the smile in his eyes, realized what a nice man he was, and tried to relax. Chris wasn't overdue, wouldn't be for at least three hours.
    "I do think we should get married." He squeezed her hands. "You're alone. So am I. We like each other, enjoy spending time together. We're both accustomed to beepers going off and