The idea of Heather being with someone else filled him with a rage that he couldn’t quantify, but that in and of itself told him that he had to change the way that he was thinking about her.
The way that he was thinking about their relationship.
They had been enemies. They had now been lovers. Perhaps there was some world where they could be friends. That might be the only way to guarantee that their child experienced some form of stability.
The way that she had dealt with Carla…
He had never seen anything like it.
He wanted toalwayshave that.
Passion was what his parents’d had. For a time. Then it had become hatred. He’d experienced hatred with Heather, and he felt like it was a tightrope walk. Easy, so easy for them to end up right back there, and what would that mean for their child?
He intended to do what the adults in his life had never quite managed.
To put that child first.
When they left Vienna, they went back to the estate, and he manufactured business that needed to be done in London—even though he could’ve done it anywhere. While he was away he sent Heather a text.
Perhaps you could spend some time back in New York. It would probably be good for you to check in with your job. Attend some of those meetings you like so much.
What made you change your mind on that?
Our wedding is set for a month from now. I trust you.
There. He was being kind. Shortly she would interpret his actions as kindness. This was the problem. He didn’t want to tell her that he thought they shouldn’t be lovers and have her afraid that it was because of something she had done wrong. It was, in fact, because of something that she had done exceptionally well. It was because he had seen a potential that he now longed to make reality.
They’d never had a friendship. And the feelings that fueled the desire between them were inarguably founded on toxicity.
That wasn’t good for anyone.
She did send him messages about the wedding, and he enjoyed her including him in the process. She did go to New York, and she kept him up-to-date on the various meetings that she had to attend, and the absolute author meltdown she had wrangled.
She called the lead publicist thirteen times. Like we can’t see who’s calling. She called everyone. And then whenever Caroline’s assistant would answer, she would hang up.
What was she mad about?
She didn’t get as many trade reviews as she thinks she should. She’s mad at the whole publicity department.
There was a pause in their texting. Then she sent another:
What are you working on?
Her question surprised him.Developing a new route on the cruise line, and negotiating port contracts. Cruise traffic is in such a state right now that you have to have rights to get your passengers dropped off right at the fork. I’m trying to make sure that our line has the most optimum placement.
Well, it’s not author tantrums.
No. It isn’t.
What he didn’t expect was for her to arrive in London without announcement at the town house where she had her ill-fated graduation party all those years ago.
But there she was, glowing in the middle of the entryway when he got home, her body curvier than when she had left nearly a month ago, her smile unlike anything he had ever seen before. Had Heather ever smiled at him like this? No. Of course she hadn’t. Because there had been nothing but bad blood between them for all that time. And now she was smiling at him. Like he was something wonderful.
It felt weighted. Like there was an expectation behind it. Because how could there be anything else? That meant that he had to keep them here. In this place, where it was only a smile. Where he could not fail her.
“I didn’t expect you,” he said.
She blinked, and then moved toward him. He moved slightly, and the kiss that had been intended for his mouth landed on his cheek. There was something all the more damning about that. All the more intense. He gritted his teeth and took a step back. “I need to speak with you, and I confess that I was putting it off.”
