‘Of course I care. He’s your father. Ryan’s father. He made a mistake. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. He’s paying for it now.’
‘How can you be so forgiving, when, you know, he did what he did?’’
‘Because it’s not entirely his fault.’ Her eyes darken three shades and her fingers reach for the elastic band around her wrist. She snaps it against her skin.
And all this time, I thought it was for her hair.
She swallows hard. ‘It’s also partly mine.’
‘Chloe, what are you talking about?’ I halt her in her tracks, frightened if we move even a millimetre, she’ll clam up on me again.
Tears spill across her cheeks, streaking her face with inky mascara. My thumb instinctively sweeps the smudges away while my left hand cups the back of her neck.
‘You can tell me anything, Chloe. This thing between us… ’ I swallow back my emotion because what she needs is strength and support right now. ‘It turned into something else, didn’t it? Something more.’
The air crackles between us as she nods.
‘You can trust me with anything. We all have things we’re ashamed of,’ I say.
With the back of her hand, she wipes away the streaks, pausing for a few seconds to take some shaky breaths.
‘Take your time. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.’ My palm traces lower across her spine, doing my utmost to soothe her.
Crying women do something to my insides. They always have done.
She swallows hard again. ‘It’s my fault my parents were on that coast road.’
‘I thought they were on their way back from Victoria’s school Christmas concert?’
‘Yes, but when they rang to say they were leaving, I asked them to pick up takeout from that fancy Chinese restaurant on the coast road on their way back. They didn’t want to, but I begged them.’ Her voice cracks with emotion.
‘If they’d have come straight home, they’d have taken the main road instead. I can hardly blame your father when it was my fault they were even on that road.’
‘Oh, Chloe, it’s not your fault.’ I sweep her up into my arms. ‘It’s not your fault.’ She nestles into my chest, shaking with silent sobs as I carry her down the length of the corridor.
Her room is vast, decorated with resplendent ruby drapes and shimmering golds. Nothing less for my Princess. A huge four-poster bed piled with plump, inviting pillows dominates the room. I place her on the bed and slip her stilettos from her feet before kicking off my own shoes.
Curling behind her, I pull a cashmere throw over both of us and wrap my arms around her waist, balancing my chin on top of her head as she cries out ten years’ worth of hurt, guilt and sorrow.
‘It’s ok, Princess. It’s not your fault.’ I repeat the same words over and over, hoping eventually they’ll sink in.
When her silent sobs finally slow, her breathing pattern changes. She’s asleep. It’s the first time we’ve gone to bed together and not had sex. Instead, we’ve done something far more intimate.
For a man who was exhausted an hour ago, I’m suddenly wide awake.
No wonder Chloe’s the way she is. She doesn’t shut people out because she thinks she’s above them. She shuts them out to protect her secret, save herself, and save them from this pain she’s been carrying around all this time.
I had no idea she blamed herself. Blame’s so pointless. I spent years blaming myself for not being able to save Sofia. Even if I save Lula, it won’t bring Sofia back. When your time’s up, it’s up.
And no matter how much time I have with Chloe Sexton, it’s never going to be enough. But one thing’s become crystal clear tonight. Whatever Declan does or doesn’t work out, I can’t go through with marrying Lula.
Not now. Not ever.
My heart belongs to this woman beside me. I never intended to give it away, yet somehow she took it anyway, stealing it straight from my chest.
ChapterThirty-One
CHLOE
