Read Online Deliver the Moon by Rebecca J. Clark - Free Book Online

apartment without a job, so my parents offered me this place free of rent until I could get my feet back on the ground.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ve been meaning to move out for some time now, but…” She shrugged and looked away.
    Didn’t he feel like the world’s biggest asshole? She was only living here because of him. She’d lost her job because of him. She’d lost everything because of him. “Lou,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
    “I should change.” She yanked clothes out of her closet.
    “I don’t have to stay.”
    She stopped what she was doing but didn’t turn around.
    “I know you didn’t expect Gram to invite me for dinner,” he said, “and now that she’s not even—”
    She gave a nervous-sounding laugh. “Gram didn’t realize I have nothing but leftover spaghetti to offer you, but…I’m not going to send you away at this time of evening without dinner. That is, if you don’t mind leftovers.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    She headed to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. “You can make yourself useful and turn the oven on for the French bread.” She shot him another wary glance before closing the bathroom door.
    After doing what she’d asked, Gabe took off his tie and released the first couple of buttons on his shirt. Her home was very small, with one main room, a tiny kitchen, and even tinier bathroom off the far wall. But she’d decorated it in a cozy, friendly way. It looked like Louisa, very cheery with splashes of bright color here and there and very practical with a quilt- and pillow-covered daybed that appeared to double as a couch. A wall of bookshelves, heavy with books of every imaginable title and subject, told him this was definitely Louisa’s place.
    An arrangement of framed photographs on a middle shelf caught his eye. He circled a wicker rocking chair until he stood directly in front of the twinkling eyes of his son. Joey’s dimples were pronounced as he grinned merrily into the camera, always a ham. He wore denim overalls without a shirt underneath. In a plump hand was one of Louisa’s paintbrushes, dripping with bright red paint. His other hand held a crumpled piece of newsprint he’d just pulled from the short easel set up in front of him. Gabe recalled it had taken forever to get that shot, because Joey kept trying to shove the paintbrush into his mouth, and Louisa kept batting his hand away from his face. Joey had managed to eat more than a little red paint that day.
    As usual, when looking at old pictures, Gabe’s heart tightened almost unbearably as memories of everything he’d lost tumbled into his mind. Memories of laughter and joy, of love and tenderness. Of happiness.
    What he wouldn’t give to have that all back again.
    If his upbringing had taught him anything, he should have realized it was all too good to be true. He had it perfect once, and he blew it.
    Gabe met his son’s merry eyes again, and his hands clenched at his sides. Would this gut-wrenching pain ever go away?
    “Remember he knocked over your tripod right after that shot?” Louisa’s whispered voice was behind him.
    Gabe swung around. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, hugging herself. “You did everything to catch the darn thing before it toppled over, but then you caught your foot in one of the light cords and ended up falling onto the floor along with everything else.” Her smile was sad.
    The memory was bittersweet, but Gabe couldn’t help chuckling. “Joey thought it was hilarious, didn’t he? Remember how his little cheeks used to shake whenever he laughed really hard?”
    They both stared at Joey’s picture in silence, remembering.
    “I miss him so much, Gabriel,” she finally said.
    He let out a long breath. “Me, too.”
    The sadness and pain in her eyes rivaled his. He wished he could cross the room and take her into his arms. Just hold her.
    She’d changed into jeans and a white T-shirt. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her