“Oh.” That was an abrupt change of topic. Guess the frown was for an acquisition becoming more difficult than expected. I want to talk to him about my fears and the baby, but that isn’t happening, not while he’s wearing that face. “How soon are we leaving?”
“You aren’t coming. It’s just me.”
“Just you,” I say stupidly as shock sucker-punches me. He’s never left me behind for a business trip. This is a first. I can’t process or decide what to think.
He nods.
“Do you want me to coordinate from the office?” I’m relieved my voice is neutral and professional.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I just have something I need to deal with.”
I search his face. My instinct tells me he’s hiding something. Although he meets my eyes, he doesn’t hold contact for more than a few seconds. He’s never done that before.
Just what is he planning to do while out of town? Is it really a business trip? Even if it’s personal, why would he avoid telling me about it?
Suddenly what Mom said on one of the very few calls with Aunt Bea crosses my mind. “I guess I should have seen the signs when he just disappeared for days with his assistant, claiming it was for business. I trusted him too much. And I ended up hurting my kid.That’s something I just can’t forgive, you know? You can gloat and say, ‘I told you so.’”
“Told ya so,” came Aunt Bea’s flat voice through the phone.
The current situation mirrors too much of what happened to my mom. Although Rhys is traveling alone, he could be meeting someone. It stabs straight into my insecurity. A tremor shakes my fingers. I clench my hands to hide my reaction and force a smile. “I see. Do you need me to arrange for a flight with Saito?”
“You don’t have to do anything. But thanks. I got this.” Rhys places a soft kiss on my forehead. His lips are cooler than usual, the expression on his face taut despite his words. “The workload will be lighter without me in the office, so just relax and take it easy.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Rhys
Nine hours later, I find myself in front of a modest lakeside bed-and-breakfast in New Hampshire. The sign outside says: THE LIBERTY HOME. I park my rental SUV and drag my carry-on out from the back. The air here is crisp, with a bite that carries the chill of the early morning.
I inhale, trying to control my nerves. I’ve executed acquisitions worth billions of dollars, but nothing ever made me this anxious.
When Max returned home with the onesie, the first thought that went through my mind was whether I was going to be allowed to be a part of her and the baby’s lives. I know nothing about babies, but don’t women want to buy baby stuff with their men? At least if they’re planning to stay with them?
Liam said Max would only believe what she can see. I don’t blame her, based on her past. And in retrospect, I didn’t exactly react well when she told me about the baby. It’s just…
I inhale the cool air, but my chest still burns. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what my next move will be. It isn’t like I can pull out my heart and show it to her. Money doesn’t impress her, just sincerity—the hardest thing to prove to someone.
I heave a sigh and walk toward the building, my feet hitting the three wooden steps to the main lobby. A woman at the counter by the door smiles, revealing lines around the corners of her pale gray eyes, cheeks and mouth. Her short bob is mostlygray. A simple flannel shirt and well-worn jeans hang on her lanky frame. She’s five foot five at the most. Flat-soled sneakers on her feet and neatly trimmed, bare nails indicate a woman who values practicality over appearance.
Beatrice Norman looks nothing like the photo Angelo sent, which had to have been taken at least a decade ago. If I’d casually walked past her, I would’ve never imagined that she was Max’s aunt. The only point of similarity is the shape of their eyes.
“Hi. Rhys Kingswood. I have a reservation.”Do you know your sister’s recipe for cheeseburgers,the one your niece loves so much?But the question would be premature. First things first.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Beatrice Norman. Just call me Bea.” She extends her hand, and we shake. A firm, dry grip. Her palm is slightly callused. “Your room’s upstairs, facing the lake. It’s really pretty during sunrise and sunset. Want to see it now?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“The cell reception here can be a little spotty, but our Wi-Fi is great.” She hands me a small card with a QR code. “You just scan that and get connected automatically.”
“Thanks.” I give her my ID and credit card, so she can check me in. “So, you’ve lived here for a while?”
“Born and raised.” Her tone is brisk, no-nonsense, as she clicks around on her computer. The common area of the bed-and-breakfast seems to reflect her personality. Old but well-cared-for wooden chairs and tables dot the area. An oak chessboard sits near a window.
“My dad carved the pieces by hand,” she says, noticing the direction of my gaze. “Do you play?”
“No,” I say with a rueful smile. If I had, Grandmother might’ve approved of me more. She likes a good game of chess.
“Do you need help with your bag?”
