Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
God, she was lovely. So damned beautiful… he couldn’t quite believe he’d ever thought her anything less than perfect before. Her cheeks were rosy from the frigid wind blowing in off the ocean. She looked adorable in a short plaid skirt, black leggings, knee length brown leather boots, a caramel-colored ribbed crop pullover top that exposed the tight body-hugging white top she was wearing beneath it. She also wore a cute beret—that matched her skirt—tucked over her long, loose hair, and a waist length, sheepskin lined brown leather jacket.
She looked up and froze when she saw him standing there. Fifi on a leash at his feet, bear in hand. Her lips parted in surprise, but he couldn’t get an accurate read on her emotions because she was wearing huge, round sunglasses.
“Ben? How did you know where to find me?”
“I asked Jackson.” Her mouth thinned and her head whipped around as she looked for her driver, but Ben had dismissed the man, informing him that he—Ben—would be taking his wife home.
“Do you want to go somewhere for lunch?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I want to go home,” she told him in a not-quite-steady voice.
“Okay.” He tucked the stupid bear under the same arm that held Fifi’s leash and gently took hold of her elbow, gratified when she didn’t flinch away from his touch. “The car’s this way.”
He led his unprotesting wife to the sleek, dark blue S-class Mercedes Benz he preferred to use for work. His driver Cabot—one of Jackson’s men—solicitously opened doors for them. Once they were seated, Ben plonked the bear between them and propped Fifi onto his lap. She shed a lot and Ben’s previously pristine five-hundred-dollar suits were often salted with short white hairs. He brushed her daily to keep her shedding to a minimum, and made liberal use of a lint roller on his suits as required, but not picking her up was never an option.
Lilah said nothing, staring out of the window for the duration of the short drive from Green Point to Bantry Bay. And Ben didn’t ask, not wanting to pressure her into talking until she was ready.
The thought of a child with Lilah… the very notion stole the breath from his body. And he found himself wanting it so fucking desperately.
When they arrived home, she was the one who picked up the bear as she got out of the car. She went straight to the living room and sat down on one of the huge chairs, still holding the toy.
Ben removed Fifi’s harness and leash and let her out, before joining Lilah in the living room on the sectional across from her. She was inspecting the bear closely.
He waited.
“It’s cute,” she said of the bear, the tremor in her voice now an uneven wobble. She dragged her sunglasses off and set them on a side table. When she met his eyes, Ben sucked in an anguished breath. She looked distraught and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.
She tucked the bear close to her chest—as if for comfort—and shrugged.
“So it was a false alarm. No baby. The doctor thinks the missed periods are a result of stress, the nausea because of a mild tummy bug and the—uhm—the test was a false positive. I’m not pregnant.”
Ben tightly entwined his fingers and let his folded hands dangle between his spread knees, his elbows on his thighs, as he fought to keep his breathing even and the debilitating agony of disappointment at bay.
“I see.”
“So you’re off the hook,” she said, injecting forced cheer into her voice. “We both are.”
“Only… I really wanted that baby,” Ben confessed on a hoarse note. “In the last twelve hours she became so fucking real to me.”
“It’s probably for the best,” Lilah said, and Ben could hear a disappointment that rivaled his behind the forced pragmatism. “We couldn’t even figure out how we would make it work.”
“We would have,” he said with heartfelt confidence.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I shouldn’t have told you anything until I knew for certain.”
“I’m glad you told me; this isn’t something you should go through alone.”
“It’s nothing really… not even a loss. You can’t mourn something that never existed.”
“You can mourn the idea of it,” he said, and her face crumpled. “Oh, cupcake, come here.”
He held his arms open to her and she didn’t even hesitate, she got up and crossed the short distance between them, leaving the bear on the chair behind her. She crept into his lap and he held her close while she curled up against his chest and wept. He buried his face in her silky, scented hair and allowed himself to enjoy her soft, comforting warmth in his arms, sharing the pain of loss with her, wishing that their relationship was on a different trajectory. That he could start over, do things differently, and give them a real chance of success.