"Why?" she asked. She'd been walking to her car after shopping and there he was. Part of her was glad to see him, she missed his daily presence in her life, but then another part of her wasn't glad at all. Because she knew he still loved her.

"It just seems like such a long time since I saw you, talked to you."

She gave him a small smile, cupping her chilled hands around the cup of coffee. "You saw me two weeks ago, at Miguel's birthday party."

"And you acted like I wasn't even there."

Sheridan looked away, she didn't want to she the hurt in his eyes. "I"m sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to."

"You know when you told me you love Luis and that you were going to marry him, it killed me. But knowing that you can walk away from what we had together so easily is more than I can take. "

"I agreed to a cup of coffee with you," she said evenly. "Not a trip down memory lane."

Her words didn't have the affect she wanted. He saw right through her. "If you think pushing me away is the answer to all your problems, then you're wrong."

Sheridan sighed, feeling close to tears. He was right. She'd been going out of her way to ignore him, not becasue she wanted to, but because she didn't want to make Luis angry. She'd actually thought that if she stayed away from one brother, she could make the other happy. But no matter what she did, Luis wouldn't let her get close. She'd watched the love fade from his eyes the night she told him about her past with Antonio. Nothing had been the same since that moment. She fingered the wedding band he'd slipped on her finger two months ago and felt tears slide down her face.

"Sheridan?"

She wiped her cheeks, then looked up, pretending nothing was wrong. "I have to go," she said calmly.

"No, don't leave. Please." He reached across the tiny table top and took her hands into his. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"You didn't."

She watched the concern in his eyes slowly turn into anger. "It's Luis isn't? He's the reason you've been so unhappy lately."

"What ever problems Luis and I are having, we can work through them," she said, wishing it were that simple. Three months ago, when they'd found each other again, she'd thought they could work through anything, but now she wasn't sure anymore. "We love each other."

She hadn't meant to throw that in his face, but she couldn't let him believe there was even the slightest chance of them being together again. The night she'd told him she wanted to be with Luis, he'd told her that one day she would find out that Luis couldn't love her even half as much as he could. The day she realized that, would be the day she'd come back to him.

That would never happen. The sooner he accepted that the sooner he would be able to move on with his life. And she wanted that for him more than anything. He deserved to be happy, with a woman who would truly love him with all her heart. She wasn't that woman. Her heart belonged to someone else and always would.

He masked his feelings and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just want you to be happy, Sheridan."

"I am," she lied. She wasn't happy at all. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before the boat explosion that separated her from Luis. She wanted him to love her the way he used to.

"Okay," he said gently, smiling. He lifted one of her hands to is mouth and kissed it. "I won't bud into your life with Luis."

"Thank you."

"Come on. I'll walk you to your car."

Luis walked up the path to the cottage he shared with Sheridan. He'd gotten off work two hours ago but instead of going home he'd driven around town, wasting time. He still didn't want to go home. He didn't have to. He could just get back inside his car and drive off. But he was too tired, too miserable. All he wanted to do was take a hot shower, go to bed and forget that cozy little scene he'd witnessed that morning between his wife and his brother. Even though the lights were on inside, he hoped Sheridan was already in bed, sleeping. But he already knew she wasn't, she would be up, waiting for him, as she did every night. He wondered why she even put up with him. Any other woman would have walked out on him months ago. What was she trying to prove, that she really did love him? The bigger question would be who she was trying to prove it to, him or her?

He walked into the living room, the question echoing in his head. He could hear her moving around in the kitchen and felt longing course through his body. He wanted to go in there, kiss her, make love to her, but the image of his brothers hands on her stopped him. Where had they gone after they left the cafe that morning? Had she spent the whole day with him?

Rather than ignore the images those questions conjured up in his mind, he let them come. He let them form and haunt him until he was angry and hurting with it. He was in the bedroom throwing off his clothes when she walked in.

"Aren't you going to eat dinner?"

He bunched his T-shirt into a tight ball before throwing it into the hamper, then turned to watch her. She was wearing a pale pink dress: low neckline, knee-length, practically see-through. "I'm not hungry."

"That's what you always say," she replied lightly. "My cooking isn't that bad, you know. I'm actually getting to be pretty good at it."

"I didn't say it was bad. I said I wasn't hungry," he said, turning around to dig through the drawer for a clean shirt. That's when he felt her arms wrap around him, her body pressed against his. She kissed him between his shoulders before resting her cheek there.

"It's a beautiful night, let's go for a walk."

"I don't feel like it."

She was acting like the fight from the night before had never taken place. He wondered why she was letting him off the hook so easily. Why wasn't she still angry with him? She hadn't even asked why he'd been two hours late getting home tonight. Just last night she'd accused him of using work as an excuse to stay away from her. She'd said that he worked every hour he could get his hands on because he couldn't stand to be near her. She'd wanted him to admit it, but he'd walked out on her, leaving her in their bedroom, crying. He'd eventually returned hours later and slept on the couch. And now here she was, their argument forgotten, asking him to take a walk with her.

He turned around to face her, their bodies still touching. He fingered the thin strap of her dress, letting his gaze rest on her breasts. "New dress?"

He lifted his gaze to her eyes and she nodded, her features soft. "I got bored at home, so I went shopping."

"Alone?"

"Yes." She had no idea he'd seen her that morning. He wondered if she would lie if he asked her about Antonio. "What did you do?" she asked softly. "I didn't even see you leave this morning."

"I watched you," he said quietly, watching her reaction carefully. Holding her gaze, he unzipped her dress and slid the straps off her shoulders. He didn't kiss her on the mouth, he kissed her neck, sucking the skin into his mouth, knowing it would leave visible marks. He pushed the dress off her waist and it pooled at her feet. He wished she would tell him to stop, but she didn't utter a single word. She let him do whatever he wanted.

"When are you going to stop punishing me?"

Her softly spoken question pierced his heart. He stared at her naked back, almost reached out and touched her then stopped. She wouldn't want him to. She hated him, but not more than he hated himself. What he'd just done, wasn't an act of love. It was what it was meant to be: demeaning, emotionless sex. He'd wanted to hurt her, not physically, he would never do that to her, but emotionally he'd wanted to hurt her as much as he was hurting.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, grabbed her panties from the floor and slipped them on. She didn't look at him as she got up, went to the closet and began to dress. She put on a plain black top, a pair of jeans, and slipped her feet into her sandals. Then she grabbed a small black duffel bag from the back of the closet and began stuffing clothes into it.

"Where are you going?" he asked finally.

"I'm leaving." When he didn't say a word, Sheridan turned to face him. He was sitting up in bed, wearing his pants which he'd never even bothered to take off, and was watching her, his eyes calm, unreadable. Anger replaced the hurt, and she threw the bag at him with all her strength. He didn't bother to duck or catch it, it him squarely in the chest. "You bastard!"

Her hands were shaking as she stared at him. "I hate you."

He got up from the bed and walked towards her, but before he could touch her she moved away. "Don't."

"Sheridan, I'm sorry." His pained voice didn't weaken her, she'd had enough. She was tired of putting his feelings first, she was tired of feeling guilty, she was tired of everything. For more than two months she'd let him walk all over her, treat her like she didn't matter, well she wasn't going to anymore.

She shook her head, feeling tears fill her eyes. "No you're not," she said. "You're not sorry at all. All you care about is yourself, Luis. You can't see past your own misery. Well I'm miserable too. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to know that I'm the reason you're so unhappy. That no matter how hard I try to make things right, I can't. I know we can never go back, but we can't go forward either, because you won't let us."

"Sheridan...."

"Why did you marry me, Luis? Was it to punish your brother or me? Because it's obvious you don't love me anymore." She shook her head sadly, feeling the pain of rejection. "I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me."

"I do love you."

"Then why you don't you show it?" she cried. "You act like you're my house guest instead of my husband. We're supposed to share our thoughts, our feelings, our hopes and our dreams, but you keep them the locked away from me. You don't even trust me. You act like being married to me is a chore for you....If you want a divorce, why don't you just say it?" Her voice cracked, and she bit down on her lip to stop from crying. Several agonizing moments passed. Slowly her gaze left his, dropping to the floor. His silence was answer enough.

She was the one who walked out on him this time. He didn't stop her and it broke her heart. But she didn't look back, if she did she wouldn't be able to leave. When she was outside, she realized she hadn't brought anything with her except the car keys. It didn't matter, she just needed to get away.

It wasn't her fault, he knew. She had amnesia for a whole year, she'd been another person, she'd started a new life with someone else. And she gave it all up to be with him again. She'd chosen him over his brother. Him. But he knew that she would never forget Antonio, that part of her will always love him. He could even forgvie her for that, but his heart couldn't. Everytime he wanted to kiss her, hold her, love her, the image of his brother doing those things with her filled his mind. Sometimes when he let pain in, he hated her. And then he would treat her cruelly and hate himself. Sheridan was right, he couldn't see past his own selfish problems. He'd let himself get so absorbed in hating his brother, hating himself, and the situation they'd all been thrown into that he couldn't break free from it. He wasn't even trying to.

They couldn't go on like this. If he wanted to be with Sheridan, make a life with her, he would have let go of all the anger and pain he was still holding on to. If he didn't, he would lose her forever. He threw on his clothes in a rush, grabbed his keys, and was heading down the hall when something caught his attention. It was the flicker of a candle light coming from the kitchen. He went inside to find the table set for two. Between the two candle holders was a white gift box. He lifted it from the table top, surprised it didn't weigh a thing. It might as well have been empty. He untied the soft yellow ribbon and opened the box. He removed the tissue and lifted object laying at the bottom. He held it to the light. It took a moment for him to realize what he was looking at. It was a photo of an ultrasound. His knees suddenly felt weak and he dropped into a chair, staring at the photo. Sheridan was pregnant, she was having a baby. His baby. He touched the glossy surface with his fingertips and for the first time in almost a year, he cried.

To be continued........