Chapter Twelve

Rule for success number twelve:

Make plans . . . but always be ready for change.

IT was nearly ten P.M. when Heath let Jolie into the darkened house that Axel owned in Dallas. On a quiet street in an older, eclectic neighborhood, the Craftsman cottage fit the man—wide, open, almost an extension of nature—Heath noted absently, as he flipped on the lights and locked the doors behind them.

Jolie had been too quiet on the drive from the hospital. He didn’t have to guess what she was thinking. The miracles of birth, of love, had hit her as profoundly as they had gobsmacked him. Now he wasn’t certain what to say. Or do. Something about watching a life emerge into the arms of adoring parents had been overwhelming. That baby represented their deep devotion, the circle of life at work. Yes, he knew people had babies every day, but experiencing Asher’s birth firsthand filled Heath with emotions now clamoring to be heard, even as logic fluttered in a dizzying whirl of circular thoughts before vanishing into disarray.

“I doubt Axel has anything in the refrigerator. He’s been gone for months,” he murmured, standing beside the gleaming appliance without much interest. “Shall I call for food?”

Jolie set her purse on the counter beside him and stared, looking a bit lost. “I’m not hungry.”

In truth, he wasn’t, either, at least not for food. He wasn’t merely hungry for sex, per se. But he craved her—her touch, her tenderness, her open arms, her willingness to receive him in every way a woman could accept a man.

Bloody hell, he sounded like a mad sap, bleating on about the tripe of his feelings. But wishing he didn’t have them hardly made them less real or insistent.

He pocketed the house keys. The powerful hush of the moment seemed too sacred for words. Just above it, he heard her breathing. The soft sound made him so aware that Jolie stood close and vulnerable and female.

For reasons he couldn’t understand or explain, he knew unequivocally that she belonged to him now. The moment he acknowledged that, new, positively mad desires frothed in his brainpan, loud, insistent, urgent.

“Jolie?”

She froze as if she sensed his next words could change everything. “Yes.”

He heard more than mere acknowledgment. Her voice resounded with total acceptance. “You don’t know what I’m going to—”

“I do,” she argued. “It’s the same thing I’ve been thinking. And yes, I want what you want.”

Did she realize he meant to start their future now? “Are we allowing the remarkable moment we witnessed to carry us away?”

Jolie hesitated for such a long moment, he wasn’t certain she heard. But he needed her reply. He couldn’t be alone in this irrational yearning for connection and sharing and the future.

“I think watching Asher’s birth simply made things clearer to me. I’ve spent my entire life hating a man who isn’t worth my energy and fearing that I’d become a woman I can’t respect. I’ve devoted all my thoughts and waking hours to things like contempt and revenge. And after today, it seems so . . . petty. I don’t need to prove to Carrington Quinn that I’m worthy. I simply need to be the best person I can be and live my life in whatever way fulfills me.”

“That’s insightful.” And Heath was so proud of Jolie for figuring that out. “And you’re utterly right.”

“If I only worry about beating my father at his game, what sort of empty victory have I achieved if I win but I’ve forgotten my dreams along the way? Betti is mine. It’s for me. Because I wanted to accomplish something I believed in and I love what I do. But today I also realized that life isn’t work. Karis tried to tell me that. I’ve intentionally pushed people away so they couldn’t hurt me.” She sighed. “In some ways, I haven’t lived at all.”

“I stopped living years ago. Losing Anna was . . .” He frowned and hung his head to hide his face, to conceal his guilt. Every day, he still felt as if, by failing to avenge her, he’d wronged her.

Jolie stepped closer. “I’m sure it’s the most difficult thing you’ve ever endured.”

“The losing her was hard, yes. The living without her has been much harder. I’m afraid I haven’t done a very good job of it. I welcomed the numbness long ago. I gave up believing I’d have a tomorrow that mattered. I’ve taken jobs in the past with a high probability for death because I didn’t think my life mattered anymore. After seeing Callie and her son, I understand how my mother must have felt the moment she first held me. Suicide by terrorist or crime boss would have been an easy end to my pain and a horribly cruel way to add to hers. I would never do that now. And I don’t think my life will be complete until I experience what Thorpe and Sean did today for myself.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, and he could see the million emotions on her face that neither of them had to speak.

They both simply knew.

“I’m not merely talking about having a child someday with some nameless woman. I’m talking about you. Us.” He raked a hand through his hair. “This is abrupt. I never expected this. I—”

“Neither did I.” She stepped close. “I didn’t want this.”

He paced in her direction, meeting her in the middle of the kitchen. “Nor did I. At all. You’ve changed my life so quickly and completely.”

Jolie took the last step closer, then cupped his cheek. “Same. Even believing this is right, I’m scared to death.”

“Because everything is so hectic with Betti now?”

She shook her head. “Work will always be important. Even though Karis tried to tell me it isn’t life, that I should value people and relationships, I couldn’t fathom why or how until you.”

“Are you worried I’ll hurt you?”

“No, that I’m not ready. That I won’t do anything right.” She lowered her hand and drew in a shuddering breath. “That I’ll let you down.”

“If you simply be yourself, you can’t.” He hesitated. “How could we have met less than a week ago and already be talking about the rest of our lives?”

She bit her lip. Her brow wrinkled. Jolie did that when she thought, and he’d found watching her keen mind work somewhere between fascinating and endearing. Now he held his breath.

“Maybe . . .” She shook her head. “Maybe we had to experience what we don’t want out of life to understand what we actually do.”

She was right. It wasn’t the fact that he’d loved and lost that Heath lamented. Anna would always be a warm memory for him, and at the time he’d loved her dearly. It was the choices he’d made after her passing he truly regretted. It was the life he’d been living for the past six years he despised.

“I’m scared to death, too,” he admitted.

“That I can’t be what you need?”

“You already are,” he assured. “I’m worried I won’t be there to protect you if something truly dangerous happens. I couldn’t bear to let you down.”

“I have total faith in you.”

Heath reached for her, cupped her shoulder, her face, sidling closer until he looked down into her eyes. “I intend to marry you.”

A dry smile curled up the corner of her lips. “I never imagined I would be anyone’s wife. I didn’t understand why people settled down, spit kids out, bought a house in the ’burbs, and lived for the weekends. I realize now they’re not settling for mediocrity or following the herd. They’re sacrificing and compromising because they found someone who called to their soul and they had the courage to merge their lives in every way. The job and the commute, the soccer leagues and the PTA . . . It’s all part and parcel of what people do in order to live with the person they love and create the next generation together.” She frowned. “And wow, do I sound ridiculously profound. That was my long-winded way of saying yes.”

They both stared at one another for timeless moments. They’d both agreed to something momentous that neither had seen coming. Heath wasn’t sure what to say, how to proceed.

Jolie made the first move, launching herself against him, lips parted in welcome. Heath didn’t hesitate, thrusting his fingers in her hair and tugging back to take possession of her mouth like he intended to claim the rest of her. She tugged at his T-shirt. He pulled at her top. She kicked off her shoes. He struggled out of his combat boots. She grabbed at his zipper. He unflicked the hooks of her bra.

His cock sprang free as he bared her breasts and broke their kiss to suck her nipple into his mouth with a desperate hunger he couldn’t hold back. Bloody hell, this was happening. His heart chugged like a train. Need thundered through him with a ground-shaking boom. Tenderness gathered and swelled around his heart.

And nothing would stop him from making Jolie Quinn completely his and showing her just how well he could love her.

As he kicked his jeans away, he shoved her pants down her hips, still teasing the stiff bud of her breast with his tongue, his teeth. Sucking her in, then releasing her. Her taste, her texture, her flavor . . . everything felt perfect to him. He’d made a living by his gut. He simply knew this was right.

Jolie wriggled and kicked at her pants, stepping until she managed to work her way free. Then they were both blessedly naked, and Heath couldn’t wait another moment. He shoved her back until the island stopped them. In one movement, he lifted her, spread her, grabbed her hips, and penetrated her.

“God, you feel so good.” He gave a primal groan as his bare flesh slid inside her. “I’ll spend every day and night giving you bliss, love. I’ll strip you bare, show you how much I want you and . . . Oh, fuck.”

Heath melted as he plunged in again and lost his ability to speak.

As she tilted her hips up, he took her thighs into the crooks of his arms and thrust again. Then he found a rhythm. Jolie leaned back on her hands and spread her legs wider, staring back as he claimed the woman who belonged to him in the most basic way.

She looked beautiful, breasts thrust out at him, her mouth open in pleasure as she tightened on his cock.

“More,” she whimpered. “Every time you touch me, I think this need will go away but . . . I only want you deeper, harder. I want you more.”

He clamped onto her hips and pounded ferociously inside her.

“I need this. I need you.” He panted, breaths sawing, heart chugging, blood churning. The moment felt so pure and raw and natural. “Jolie. Jolie . . . love.”

She gave a hard, mewling cry. “So close. So . . . God, I’ve never ached so badly.” She keened out again, tightened, clamped. “Please . . .”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he reminded her.

If they meant to take this crazy forever gamble, they would do it together with their eyes wide open.

“I know.” Her eyes willed him to give her everything—the moment, the future. “I’m well aware.”

“And you want this?”

“Yes,” she cried.

“You want this now? You want to share a life and a child and a home with me?”

A week ago, Heath wouldn’t have believed he’d be uttering these words at all, much less holding his breath and hoping like hell that she’d say yes.

“Everything. I want all of it. I want it now.”

A vision of taking her hand in his as they spoke vows, as they brought life into the world, as they ended their days together exploded in his head. Yes. A million times yes. The electric need to make that future theirs now rolled through his brain, took root in his chest, and sent the direct impulse straight to his cock.

The violent urge to mark her wouldn’t be denied. He buried his face in her neck and jackhammered deep inside her, feeling her tighten more with every thrust until he had to fight his way into her slick depths. But that didn’t stop him. Nothing would. He was going to do his best to plant his seed and let this woman—and the rest of the world know—they belonged to each other.

Suddenly, Jolie gasped, tensed, then he felt her convulse around him with a throaty scream.

That unraveled Heath entirely. For the first time in his life, he climaxed inside a woman without barriers, without any feeling except the profoundest desire to please her, share love, and make life.

Last night, he’d believed himself to be happy. And he had been—in a way that amazed him to the core. Now he had a better understanding of what true happiness was, and he never intended to let her go.

***

AFTER their searing, frenzied sex on the kitchen island, Heath found a pizza place that delivered until eleven P.M. When the steaming pie arrived, they ate out of the box, still mostly naked, not saying much that couldn’t be said through touches or smiles.

With sated stomachs, they gathered their clothes and made their way to the bedroom. The room was mostly brown and utilitarian and it definitely looked like a man’s space. Just like the rest of the house, it had a relaxed vibe. Being here with Heath while completely bare in every way felt natural.

The sheets had been stripped from the big mattress at some point, and they found a fresh set in a closet in the hallway. After making the bed, they fell into the cloud of blankets and rolled toward one another as if propelled by a gravity of their own.

Heath’s lips found hers, his tongue sliding deep as he possessed her mouth. Their joining wasn’t the same urgent dash to completion as before but something thoughtful, deliberate—a lingering promise blooming with springlike newness, rooting love deeper in their hearts.

After a hot shower, they crawled back into bed. Jolie curled against Heath, using his chest as a pillow. He cradled her in his arms.

“When I took this job, I’d planned to use the couple of weeks I dedicated to this assignment and decide if I want to remain in Dallas or move elsewhere again. I had no idea you would change everything.”

“I didn’t want to hire a security person. But the neighborhood burglar hit two doors down, plus I work enough late nights alone in the office that Karis convinced me I was putting myself at risk.” She propped her chin on her hands and peered at him. “When we first met, I was admittedly attracted.”

“I was, as well, despite you being a real ballbuster.” He laughed. “Definitely not my usual type.”

“You have a type?” It dismayed Jolie to think that she didn’t fit his mold.

“That night you tracked me down in the bar, you pegged me right. I typically like the doe-eyed ones I could take care of.” He shrugged. “I’m a protector at heart, and you seemed to have everything together. I knew within ten seconds of meeting you that you’re the last woman who would ever stand about, looking to a man for answers.”

“And that bothered you?” An anxiety she didn’t like needled her, but Heath couldn’t change himself to suit her any more than she could remake her psyche to please him.

“To my surprise, no. Your independence intrigued me.” He cradled her head and stroked her hair. “You fascinated me, in fact. I love watching your mind work. I love that sometimes I know exactly what you’ll do. Other times, you’re completely unpredictable. You’re probably the smartest person in the room more often than not. And I appreciate the fact that you’re with me because you want to be with me, not because you find the real world difficult without my guidance. It’s unexpectedly sweeter.”

A big smile spread across Jolie’s face, even as warmth seeped into every corner of her body. He saw her and understood. And he appreciated the parts of her that had scared away or turned off other men. “Good. I never imagined being the sort of woman who gave up any control to a man. I’ve seen how well that works out for my mother, in an endless cycle over and over.”

“She chooses her husbands and lovers poorly.”

“Every time.” Jolie nodded.

“You’re not her. You could never be her.”

“I’ve worked hard not to be,” she admitted. “In fact, I’ve never done a single romantically impulsive thing in my life . . . until you.”

“I realize how much trust you’ve given me, love. You placed a great deal in me when you gave me control in the bedroom.” When she blushed, he smiled. “You liked it that first night.”

“I loved it,” she admitted. “I juggle so many responsibilities and rarely think about my sex life beyond the one I can manage with my battery-operated boyfriend. I never thought I could handle surrendering in any capacity. But I can let go and know you’ll catch me.”

“Always. It only works because we’ve developed trust.” He sighed and cupped his hands around her shoulders, urging her up his body. “I want you to know that I take nothing we’ve done tonight lightly.”

“I know. I don’t, either.”

“I’m not certain precisely where we’ll live next or what our lives will look like. But we’ll make decisions together.”

Jolie nodded. “Totally. I’m glad I didn’t listen to my first instinct.”

“Which was?”

“Well . . .” She grinned. “When I met you, I thought you were one of the hunkiest men I’d ever laid eyes on. I almost didn’t hire you because I wanted to crawl over my desk and take your clothes off.”

Heath let out a full-bodied laugh, which filled her with a mellow glow. “You hid your urges frighteningly well. I left that meeting certain that I had a job but worried you viewed me as useful, like an insect in a garden, but as appealing as pond scum.”

“You’re definitely more appealing than that.” She winked. “Don’t you feel better now?”

“Positively transformed.” He sobered then. “Actually, I am. Before you, I hadn’t moved on much after Anna’s death. You made me want to try harder at life, actually enjoy it again.”

His words humbled her, and Jolie blinked away stinging tears. “When I reamed you out at the bar, I had no idea you’d lost a wife. I got to my car and read the report my sister had stupidly compiled about you. That’s when I found out you’d lost Anna. I felt terrible that I’d said anything about the way you dealt with your grief.”

“But you were right; I wasn’t dealing with it. Not well. You challenged me to look at myself. I needed that.”

“I’m so sorry my sister poked into your background. I didn’t read past the bullet points she put at the beginning. After I realized how deeply personal and intrusive it was, I forced myself to put away the rest. She spent hours compiling this report. There were pages . . .” Jolie wasn’t sure how to say this, so she just blurted the words. “I think she was particularly interested in figuring out who killed Anna and why. I don’t know why she thought she could put on her amateur sleuth hat and figure it out. Maybe because she devours mystery novels like they’re M&M’s.”

“I wish she had.” He sighed, and for the longest time didn’t respond. Jolie winced and prepared to change the subject until he could discuss it with her without pain. Instead, he met it head-on. “That’s one reason I’ve found moving forward difficult. I worked for weeks after I buried her, and I discerned a Russian named Yuri Garbanov made the hit. He dabbled in weapons. Mostly a lone wolf, though word on the street was that he’d begun providing the hardware and muscle for a drug cartel taking over the posh parts of London and littering it with designer drugs. We British have very different feelings about guns than our American cousins.”

“Our second amendment at work,” she quipped.

“Indeed. So I hunted him down and . . . it didn’t end well for him. But the million dollar question is why. Why my wife? I knew of Garbanov when employed by MI5 but I had nothing to do with his investigation. One of my former peers, Kensforth, had responsibility for stopping his flow of guns into Britain, and the Russian proved all too slippery. Nothing went our way. Evidence even disappeared. So, despite no longer being employed by Her Majesty when I showed Garbanov his early grave, MI5 gratefully looked the other way. I tried to get the bastard to talk but . . . he knew he was a dead man either way and nothing I did to him could possibly be worse than the torture the drug lords would dish out. So I still have no idea why he targeted Anna.”

“I’m sorry.” They were simple words. Jolie wished she had something more eloquent with which to soothe Heath. But her empathy was sincere. She followed it up with a kiss. “I hope you get answers someday.”

“Did your sister have any theories?”

“Maybe. Like I said, I didn’t read it all.” She reached for her phone and scrolled through her e-mails, forwarding the file Karis had sent her earlier in the week. “You take a look. And please ignore any hearts, flowers, and inferences that you might be her Prince Charming.”

“Of course,” he promised. “So now that we’ve cleared up our misconceptions and bared our souls, what shall we do tomorrow?”

“I should really drag out my laptop and try to figure out my financial situation, finagle a few extra months of float until I can find a new investor . . . something. But I have this crazy idea.” She bit her lip. Would he think she’d gone completely batshit? Maybe she had. Still, this felt right. He’d mentioned this already, so . . .

“Crazy? You may be the sanest person I know.” He tossed her a skeptical stare. “Tell me.”

“How would you feel about a trip to Vegas tomorrow?”

“To gamble for the money to finance your expansion?” He sent her a glower. “I don’t—”

“No. I don’t like to play games when the odds are stacked against me.” She dragged in a breath for courage. “We both know what we want out of our future. I could already be pregnant. I was just thinking . . . Why wait?”

She saw the moment understanding lit his face. He grinned. “Do you think Elvis would marry us?”

***

WHO knew a week could change his whole life?

Last Monday, Heath had begun a new but temporary job. The following Monday, he was beginning a completely different life as a married man. His wife of twelve hours slept beside him on the plane, her head propped on his shoulder.

He stared at their matching bands, purchased hastily when they’d reached Vegas Sunday afternoon. They’d found the county clerk’s office, applied for a license, and been married by someone who looked like a medieval bishop in a fairy-tale ballroom. She’d worn a white summer dress she’d found at the back of her closet. He’d scrounged up a suit. They’d told no one what they planned and taken only a handful of pictures. This wedding had been purely for them.

This time when he spoke his vows, the words held far more meaning. Exchanging them with Anna had been easy. While standing in a field of flowers surrounded by their family and friends, he’d never believed that he would have to put those vows to the test so soon, especially the bit about death parting them. Speaking similar words with Jolie filled him with gravity, with love. Neither of them knew what tomorrow would bring but he was damn determined that he would hold on to her, be her faithful protector. Because he would never speak these vows again. They were forever.

Now satisfaction buzzed through his veins. He couldn’t be happier that this amazing, talented, acerbic, complicated woman was his.

While she dozed—they hadn’t bothered much with sleep—he scanned the dossier Karis had composed on him. Decent job for an amateur. She had included all the highlights, even learning about a school prank or two he’d all but forgotten. Cursory information about his parents, his sister, and his first marriage was tucked inside. Then onto Anna’s death. She’d rightly pegged Garbanov as the one who’d executed the attack that resulted in Anna’s fiery murder. Karis was also a bit of a conspiracy theorist because she felt sure that no one could pull off a public attack of that magnitude and manage never to be caught without help on the inside.

Heath had wondered about that himself. He and Myles had even speculated once or twice that, given the intel at their fingertips and the ensuing manhunt, catching the culprit should have been much simpler. Identifying the mastermind and bringing him to justice should never have proven impossible.

Karis went on to speculate that Kensforth may have had a hand in the murders of Anna and the other innocents, like Lucy, that day. He’d never been implicated, of course. He’d been too well connected. But a year after Anna’s murder, he had died in a mysterious single-car crash, seemingly a million pounds richer than he had previously been.

Heath frowned. He’d heard about Kensforth’s passing, had always thought the prick was the sort who cut corners and took shortcuts a bit too much because he was a sacred cow no one would ever sack. Had Kensforth taken money from Garbanov or the drug lords who employed him to look the other way? To destroy evidence and provide bureaucratic red tape? Had someone eliminated him because he’d suddenly grown a conscience . . . or because his usefulness had come to an end?

Either way, if that were the case, whoever had orchestrated the attack was still at large.

With a frown, Heath tucked his phone away.

After their flight landed, they swung by Axel’s house to shower before heading to the office. Jolie had texted Karis earlier to say she’d be there shortly to explain.

While his new wife cleaned up, Heath called his parents to give them the news of his marriage. They might be a bit disappointed that he hadn’t waited for them to attend the ceremony, but overall they were delighted and couldn’t wait to meet Jolie.

Then he turned his mobile over in his hands a few times before finally deciding to call Myles.

“Fancy hearing from you twice in the same week,” his old mate said by way of greeting. “How are things?”

“Quite well, actually.”

“That sounds promising. Do tell.”

“Well, I took your advice,” Heath began, then spilled his happy news. “It feels great.”

“Married? That’s fantastic! I’m so thrilled for you. I’d like to meet her.”

“I’m hoping to drag her away from the office during the holidays and pop over for a week or so, introduce her to my parents and all that. We’ll have to make plans then.”

“Absolutely! Couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Thanks.” Heath fell quiet and paused, listening for the sounds of the water pipes to ensure Jolie was still in the shower. He didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily if Karis’s theory had no merit . . . or involve her if it did. “What do you know about Kensforth’s death?”

“That old bastard? God, I haven’t thought about him in five years. Shady prick. Supposedly died in a single-vehicle crash.”

“I heard. Maybe I’m being sentimental or I’ve realized that I need closure, but I want to solve our first wives’ murders. It won’t bring Anna and Lucy back, I know, but you must have felt as if you failed them. I struggle with having let Anna down every day. Don’t you want to know why it happened?”

“I won’t deny that the past has been difficult.” Myles choked up. “It’s been a hard road to accept that I don’t have any answers—and I may never. I don’t have any new theories. I’ve come to realize that sometimes old regrets are best forgotten.”

Heath didn’t see it that way. “It’s not possible to forget something that terrible. You were always a relentless bloke in chasing down the bad guys. We should solve this once and for all. I’ve always wondered if Kensforth was somehow involved or simply let it happen—for a price. To this day we don’t know who perpetrated it or even why. Random violence doesn’t make sense. The event was too well orchestrated.”

“I suspect whoever planned the terrible deed had some drug-related murder in mind but he died in the fiery hail of gunfire, too. No one left to take responsibility. You eliminating Garbanov tied up the last of the loose ends.”

And that seemed logical, given the players involved. Almost too logical. He and Myles had discussed this theory in the past. Then, like now, it didn’t sit well in his gut. “Did you know Kensforth died with far more money in his bank account than he could possibly have made in his position while affording that nice West End place of his?”

“I’d heard some rumor to that effect. But didn’t his wife come from money?”

“That’s possible,” Heath conceded. He hadn’t known much about the bastard’s personal life. It wasn’t as if they’d been good mates. “I’ll look into it and let you know what I find.”

“Leave it. Please,” Myles asked softly. “You want to understand that terrible day and don’t mind rehashing it. I know I have no right to ask this of you but . . . stop. I can’t relive that again. Hell, I can’t go to that part of town without breaking into a fit of rage. Or depression. I love Camille and I’m grateful for her every day. But I can only be with her because I’ve made the choice to lock the past behind closed doors and toss the key in the recesses of my mind. I’ve said my last good-bye to Lucy and the child we never had. Don’t dig this up and make me deal with that hell again.”

Heath sat in stunned silence, feeling guilty as the devil. He’d assumed the closure he sought would benefit Myles, too. So they could both know they had found all the missing pieces of the past, put them together, then taped shut the boxes filled with tragedy. Hell, maybe he simply needed to understand so he could process what he’d done wrong and finally deal with his failure to protect Anna.

Never in a million years had Heath imagined that his best mate from those days would have such a different way of dealing with the trauma. He respected Myles’s perspective, even if he didn’t subscribe to it. But Heath couldn’t simply let this go.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I had no idea . . .”

“Isn’t that one of the reasons you left home? The constant memories? The seeing a familiar restaurant or person or even a bottle of wine that reminded you of her?”

He was right, and Myles hadn’t been able to simply walk away from his job, his surroundings, his home. The man had always been the backbone of his family, supporting ailing parents and a freeloading brother. Heath winced, wishing he’d been more compassionate. “They’re haunting, I know.”

“And you know well that I can’t leave. Camille and I have a comfortable life now. Things are coming together. It’s hard but I accept that I lost Lucy to a senseless act of violence. Even if I knew the ultimate who and why, I’d never understand her death. So is there really any point in knowing who to hate?”

“It’s different for you. I see. I won’t bring it up again.”

“That phrase ‘let sleeping dogs lie’? Let them,” he implored. “All the years I tried in vain to process what happened only led to struggles with depression and alcohol. So I’ve had to relegate that terrible day to the distant past and move on.”

Heath stared out Axel’s window into the blinding sunshine, blinking against a sudden onslaught of tears. He wasn’t sure why precisely. He mourned Anna. He ached for the years of grief he and Myles had both endured very differently. He hurt for the loss of the friendship that seemed forever diminished by an act neither of them had perpetrated.

“Consider the subject closed.”

Myles breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

They rang off, and Jolie entered the room, putting on her simple diamond studs and elegant watch. Her wedding band winked in the light. “All okay?”

“Of course, love. I’ve called my parents. They’re expecting us to spend Christmas in Liverpool now, mind you.” He forced a smile. “You and Mum will get on well.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting them. They weren’t angry?”

“That I’d married without them there? They never expected me to marry again at all, so they’re thrilled to bits.” He rose and kissed her gently. “I’ll take a quick shower and we’ll be off.”

Jolie grabbed his arm. “You seem a little quiet. Are you having second thoughts?”

Heath softened. He couldn’t let his own regrets and worries about the past affect his rapport with Jolie. Maybe in some ways Myles was right. They had too many wonderful reasons to look forward for him to dwell in the past.

“Not at all. Make yourself some coffee, then we’ll head to the office and surprise everyone.”