“No problem.” She leaned against the island, idly eating popcorn instead of following him to the front hall, which seemed oddtoo.
“Leslie,” he said when he came back after taking the measurement. “Is everything all right? You seem…well, notyourself.”
She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Did my aunt send you over?” She sounded a cross between annoyed and hopeful. “I told her not to worry about me. I’mfine.”
“No, Cherry didn’t send me. I told you, I needed ameasurement.”
She gave him a look that was almost the old Leslie—one with wry disbelief. Yeah, it sounded lame to him too, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “Well, I suppose we should probably talk anyway. About lastFriday.”
She shoved the bowl of popcorn toward him and he took a handful—partly because it smelled amazing, and partly because he figured it would give him time to figure out what to saynext.
“Oh my God,” he said when he tasted the popcorn. He’d forgotten lunch again. “This is reallygood.”
A glimmer of a smile. “Old family recipe: lots of salt and more butter than you want to know. Popped in a hot air popper. The best cure for theblues.”
“The blues?” he asked cautiously. Surely she wasn’tthatupset about their aborted whatever it was, and seeing Emily Delton at his house. That was justsilly.
Though he kind of liked that idea, because he knew he could fixit.
Leslie drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Today’s just a difficult day for me. It’s an anniversary, an unpleasant one—and it’s the first one. So I guess that makes it unusually difficult.” She gestured around the room. “So I just holed up with some snack food and decided to pamper myself and binge-watchGilmore Girls. In between shedding a fewtears.”
“An anniversary?” He couldn’t seem to stop munching on the popcorn. It was like crack. “A breakup? Or…something else?” He forced himself to stop reaching into the bowl in order to give her his fullattention.
“A miscarriage. I lost a baby one year ago today. Her name would have beenElla.”
A number of thoughts and questions shot through his mind, but they could—possibly—be addressed later. The most important thing was: “Oh, Leslie. I’m so sorry.” His words were heartfelt and honest, even though he couldn’t really relate to thesituation.
She nodded, reaching automatically for a handful of popcorn. “Thanks. I have my ups and downs. Today I expected would be a down day, so I just…cancelled everything. I figured I’ve been working so hard, I could use a day off. And I’dbe—”
“Leslie, you don’t need to justify yourself to me. Or to anyone. I mean, losing a baby…that’s got to be one of the worst things in theworld.”
She looked at him with large, shocked eyes. And then all at once, she burst intotears.
Fourteen
Leslie hardly realizedwhat she was doing—but the next thing she knew, she’d thrown herself into Declan’s arms. It was as if she’d been waiting for it: waiting for someone to hold her, someone to listen, someone to comfort. And with that, the dam tumbleddown.
His arms came around her immediately—protective, supportive, comforting. And every bit of grief she’d controlled for weeks and months in her iron-fisted CEO mind came pouring out in deep, wrenching sobs as he held herclose.
“People…don’t…under…stand,” she bawled into his shoulder. “They think”—sniffle—“since the baby…was never born…it shouldn’t”—sob—“affect me…somuch…”
He patted her on the back, his fingers touching the ends of her messy hair, as he tucked her head beneath his chin. “Of course it would affect you,” he said quietly. “You carried that babyinsideyou. You lost part of yourself, and another person as well. Someonedied. A little defenseless creatureisgone.”
That made her bawl even harder. How could he understand so well when even Aunt Cherry couldn’t get it? She knew Leslie had been grieving, and she was kind and supportive…but she didn’t really seem to understand that a miscarriage waslosing a baby…not just the hopes and dreams of a baby, but an actual child. Someone she’d spoken to, nurtured, planned for…felt.She’d felt Ella, held her deep inside,connectedwithher.
“Shh…shhh,” he murmured, stroking her back in a long, easy slide. “I’m here, Leslie. I’mhere.”
“I was five months pregnant,” she said. “Well past the danger zone. I started to wear maternity clothes. I—I ordered a c-crib…”
“I’m so sorry, darling. So, sosorry.”
Leslie didn’t know how long she sobbed messily into his shirt, but when she pulled away, there was a huge wet spot that went from shoulder to halfway down the soft, brushedcotton.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a little hiccup and a short, pained laugh. She batted at the massive wet spot. “I ruined your sh-shirt. I hope you didn’t have planstonight.”
Now that she’d emerged from the storm of grief and anger, she felt as if she were coming back to herself—back to reality. Here in her kitchen, with a soft, comforting glow, the smell of popcorn and old pizza—and, most of all, the smell of Declan: fresh, clean, male,delicious.
And in the very same position he’d been in the last time she was in his arms: up against the island, holding herclose.
