Night Moves. Джулия Кеннер
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of Ella, of the two of them together. Boating, biking, hitchhiking from Houston to Mexico, hanging out on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Souvenirs of the fun they used to have. None of their families, of course. No surprise there. But lots of pictures of their mutual friends. All no big deal.
And all of it none of his business.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that Ella would have happily let him look through the box if he’d asked. He knew she would. They’d been best friends since second grade, and there wasn’t a request he could make that she would deny. For that matter, as far as he knew, there wasn’t a single secret that Ella kept from him. He knew that her tortured relationship with her mom still gave her nightmares, waking her up in a cold sweat all too often. He knew she’d decided, so many years ago, to get a motorcycle license because she’d been surprised and aroused by the vibration between her legs when an old boyfriend had given her a lift home on his Ducati. And he knew that she’d enrolled in Ronnie’s class on erotic fiction as much from prurient interest as from academic fascination.
They’d never actually voiced any plan to be so open; it had just happened as a natural growth of their friendship. By the time they’d reached college, they’d known pretty much everything about each other, from what type of birth control she used to which paralegal he’d fooled around with in the supply room at his first office Christmas party.
They knew everything, he thought, except the one secret that he kept from her. A big one. The biggest of the big. More to the point, the kind of secret that just might make her say no if he asked to look through the box behind the tequila.
But she didn’t know his secret. He hadn’t told her because he’d been too afraid the secret would screw up their friendship, and Shane hadn’t been willing to run that risk. The truth was dangerous. The truth was hard and painful and wonderful all at the same time.
The truth was he loved Ella Davenport.
Looking back, he supposed he’d loved her from the first moment he’d seen her. Right there next to the slide in the playground at Sam Houston Elementary School. They’d both been seven, and he’d tripped and fallen, his very drippy Fudgsicle flying out of his hand. It had landed smack on her pretty pink dress and, unlike a lot of girls who would have yelled and cried, Ella had just laughed, brushed off the dress—making an even bigger smear—and offered to share her Eskimo Pie bar with him.
From that day Ella had become his best friend, his closest confidante. Never once had he thought of her as more than a friend, though. Not once in all those years in Texas.
Not once until about six months ago, when he’d come home from a particularly bad date, called Ella on the phone to bitch about the so-when-will-you-join-a-big-law-firm-and-be-a-partner? bimbo he’d escorted to dinner and suddenly realized.
Ella.
The woman who’d been there in front of him all along. She was the woman for him. Absolutely and one hundred percent.
Not that he’d been able to tell her. Not then. The downside of knowing a woman as well as he knew Ella was that he was all too familiar with her quirks relating to relationships. If an ex-boyfriend said he really just wanted to be friends, no problem. But if the poor guy still had a boner for her—or, even worse, flat out said he was still in love with her—then once broken up, they were really broken up. She even went so far as to delete his entry from her Palm Pilot.
“Too awkward,” she’d told him once. “Billy Crystal was only half right,” she’d explained, referring to When Harry Met Sally, one of her favorite movies. “Guys and girls can be friends. Look at us. But only if sex and romantic love never enter the equation. If they do, every chance for happily ever after is shot to hell…” She’d trailed off, shaking her head, but he’d known what she’d meant. Ella’s life hadn’t been easy, and she’d survived the rough places by acting tough. Underneath it all, though, she was a cockeyed optimist, absolutely certain that everything would be rainbows and sunshine in the end. Hell, maybe that’s why she clung so fiercely to adventures like skydiving and rappelling—she innately believed that nothing could possibly go wrong, that the only possible outcome was a good one.
“God, can you imagine if we’d ever slept together?” she’d asked him during that same conversation. “How would I have lived without you in my life all these years?”
It had been a rhetorical question, and one he hadn’t bothered answering. They’d never dated in high school or college, unless you counted the string of double dates, including a lot of dates-gone-bad where the two of them had ended up talking together in the bowling alley or on the dance floor while their respective dates had gotten plastered or flirted with someone else.
As the years passed, he dated often and sex was a given, of course. On occasion, he and El would get sloppy drunk and joke about going to bed, but they were never serious. They’d known each other for years—years—so why was he suddenly seeing her in a different light? Desperation born of the fact that he hadn’t yet met another woman who could make him laugh as she did? Another woman he wanted to spend hours with watching late-night episodes of Monty Python?
No, it was more than that. Ella wasn’t a last resort, she was his only resort. It had just taken him an ungodly amount of time to realize it.
And now—this week—he’d realized something else, too: he had to tell her. He had to risk everything and tell his best friend that he loved her.
Of course, a part of him believed that if he told Ella how he felt, it wouldn’t be unrequited. Or, even if it was, that she’d put him in some stratosphere different from the other men in her life. Him she’d surely keep in the Palm Pilot.
Trouble was, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t imagine Ella ever shoving him out of her life. But things happened every day that he couldn’t imagine. Like, for example, him moving back to Texas. Who would have thought after managing to escape the hellhole that had been his childhood that he’d willingly go back?
But here he was, two days shy of leaving New York to head back to Houston, Texas, to join a handpicked Justice Department task force. A huge vote of confidence for a second-year attorney, especially when coupled with his superior’s promise that if he did as well as they were expecting, he’d be transferred to D.C. once the task force disbanded.
Working for the U.S. Attorney’s office in D.C. Now that was a gamble worth taking. He’d be a fool to walk away. And where his career was concerned, Shane was no fool.
About Ella, though…on that front, he’d admit to a little foolishness, especially lately. Foolishness with an edge, though. Foolishness with a plan.
For the past two years, he’d helped put away some of the nastiest criminals to face the Justice Department. He’d aced law review, interned for two federal judges and basically kicked butt where the law was concerned. He could plan, collect evidence and cross-examine a witness with the best of them. He might be raw, but he was getting better every day. Honing his skills, building his craft.
Now he was going to put those skills to work for personal reasons. He was going to tell her. Today. And he was going to prove to her that he was the man she belonged with, that she was his and always had been, even before either of them had realized it. He’d procrastinated for six months, but now he was on the verge of heading back to Texas. He couldn’t wait any longer.
But it wasn’t just the trip that was prodding him forward now. If that were it, he could take the coward’s way out, fly to the new job, get settled, then fly back up to talk to Ella.
But there were other factors in play now. From what Ella had been saying recently, Tony was going to propose soon. And Shane couldn’t lose her that way—not because some other man took her right out from under him. Especially when Tony was the wrong man for her. And Shane had no doubt that Tony was wrong. Ella was enamored, that much was true. But she was also trying too hard, smoothing out her own edges so that she could fit into the box that Tony expected her to fit into.
If, at the end of the day, she chose Tony, then so be it. But she needed to know all the facts. And the one big glaring