Chapter 28

DAKOTA

AFTER SAM left for work that morning, I sagged against the bedroom door in relief. I couldn’t take it anymore—his patience, his understanding, his pity. I clasped my hands over my belly. Emptiness echoed through my womb. We’d lost our child, the one I hadn’t wanted at first, the one he’d desperately desired.

How did he do it? How did he continue to live like nothing had happened, while I felt like the world had collapsed upon itself, taking me with it? Though I didn’t want to admit it, he was right about one thing—I needed to get my ass out of the condo. Sitting around stewing about things I couldn’t change would never resolve the issues.

Silence thickened the air of the room. With each passing minute, the walls moved closer. For the last few weeks, I’d been wallowing in self-loathing, letting grief consume me. Even when Sam and I had divorced, I’d never stopped living. I sat on the edge of the bed, cradled my head in my hands, and fought to pull myself together. This wasn’t going to do. My contemplation ended when the phone rang.

“Hey, Dakota. It’s Muriel.”

“Hi.”

“So how are you feeling?” she asked. I was so tired of people asking how I felt, like I’d been sick or had the measles. My body felt fine; it was my heart that had been damaged.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, more harshly than I intended. I drew in a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. “I’m sorry. Thank you for asking. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. My emotions are all over the place these days. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Wondering when you’re coming back to work.” Something in the tone of her voice flagged a warning in my head.

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it. Why?”

“I think you need to get back here. Preferably right away.”

“Is something wrong?” I straightened, surprised by the sudden burst of energy.

“No. Yes. No. But there are some things that could use your attention.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking in code?”

“Well, I’m not alone,” she said. “And there are important things going on here that may or may not be of interest to you.”

My patience evaporated. “Muriel, spit it out.” 

“Just get the hell in here,” she said. “Now.” And hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand, unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed. Muriel had a dramatic flair rivaled only by Xavier. More than likely she’d found a new love interest and wanted me to play matchmaker, or had had another falling out with the copier girl. After another minute, my mind was made up. I dialed the extension to Chandler’s room.

“Chandler, it’s Mrs. Seaforth. Could you get the car? I’m going to work.”

I heard the shock in his voice. “Um, okay. Sure thing.” He’d probably been bored out of his mind for the past few weeks since I’d never gone anywhere or had even bothered to get out of bed. “I’m on it.”

Forty-five minutes later, dressed in my favorite figure-hugging black pantsuit, I climbed into the car and headed to the office. When I walked off the elevator, murmurs of interest rippled through the cubicles. I’d taken a leave of absence to recover from the miscarriage and should have returned to work a while ago. Until today, I hadn’t been able to face anyone. The threat of tears still lurked below my mask of indifference. At the reception desk, I hesitated. Perhaps I’d been too hasty in my return. Then I remembered who I was. Mrs. Samuel Seaforth. Dakota Seaforth. I belonged here. This was my passion. I sucked in a deep breath and breezed past Xavier and down the corridor toward Sam’s office.

First things first. I needed to clear the air with Sam.

“Dakota? Good morning.” Shocked flashed across Xavier’s face, but he recovered quickly. He jumped out of his chair and trotted to catch up with me. “Sam’s in a meeting right now. He said not to disturb him. Let me give him a buzz.”

I frowned down at him. As Sam’s wife, I’d never needed to be announced. A knot of unease tightened in the pit of my stomach. “Why? Who’s in there?”

“Can I just say you look fantastic in that suit?” Xavier’s bold eyes raked over the crisp white collar of my blouse and the bold yellow scarf knotted beneath the lapels.

“I’ve lost a few pounds,” I said. Over his shoulder, the frosted glass double doors of Sam’s office loomed. “What’s the meeting about?”

“A new project. I’m sure he’ll fill you in.” Xavier waved a hand through the air then took my elbow, turning me toward my office. “It’s great to have you back. Layla’s off today, but I’ll fill in for her. Can I get you anything? Some coffee? I’m sure you need a bit to get settled, and then we’ll talk. Okay?” A broad smile burst across his features. “Man, have I missed you! We need to catch up. I heard a rumor that Grady, the sanitation guy, had an affair with Shania, the copier girl. And Missy in accounting left her husband for Lisa from the law firm on the first floor. No one saw that coming.”

When I looked up, we were standing outside my office. He gave me a quick hug and disappeared. I’d forgotten how good he was at handling people. After a second, I opened the door and took a seat behind my desk. Everything smelled new, foreign. I trailed a hand across the heavy cherry wood of the desk then powered up my computer.

I was proud of the work Sam had done to recover from a financial catastrophe, the way he’d gathered his resources, regrouped, and returned stronger than ever. But that was how Sam was—strong, relentless, unstoppable. I paused to bite my lower lip, overcome with shame at the way I’d treated him. Of course he went about his day as if the miscarriage had never happened, because that was what Sam did—he thrived in the face of adversity. It was one of the reasons I loved him so much. And I did love him, more than anything. I just didn’t know how to get beyond the yawning chasm between us.

Before I could overthink the impulse, I rushed out of my office, just in time to see Sam standing at the elevators with a svelte, thirty-something bombshell. The overhead lights reflected off her chestnut hair. A wide smile bowed red lips as she chatted with my husband. I couldn’t fault her enthusiasm. As always, Sam looked impeccable in a navy Hugo Boss suit. The tailored cut flattered his broad shoulders and narrow hips. The summer sun had bleached highlights into his blond hair, the scruff on his square jaw darker by several shades. A few inches of smooth, tanned skin showed through the open throat of his white dress shirt.

The woman leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest to smooth his lapels. Oh, hell no. I charged forward. Sam took a step away from the woman, and her hand dropped to her side. His gaze met mine. I waited for the familiar flicker of heat or anger or something—anything—to indicate his mood. But instead I found nothing.

“Dakota.” The cool green gaze leveled on mine. “This is Shelby Whitman. Shelby, this is my wife, Dakota.”

Shelby turned her megawatt smile in my direction. Startling lavender eyes swept over my figure from head to toe. She extended a hand. “Mrs. Seaforth, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Thank you.” I returned her handshake, feeling the weight of Sam’s gaze on me. “Likewise, Mrs. Whitman.” From the corner of my eye, I spied Muriel, resplendent in a purple-and-white flowered dress, peeking around her cubicle wall.

“It’s Miss, and please, call me Shelby.” A beat passed between us as she waited for me to return the gesture.

I said nothing. She could call me Mrs. Seaforth until hell froze over. It would serve as a reminder to her that Sam had a wife. Normally, women like her didn’t bother me, but my confidence had suffered an irreparable blow over the past month.

“Sam said you were recovering from an illness. I hope you’re feeling better?” The genuine warmth and concern in her tone did little to ease my jealousy. Was she the reason he hurried into work every day? Had he found someone to replace me?

“Yes, I am. Much better, thanks.” Something about the way she spoke made me wonder how much Sam had told her.

The elevator dinged. Sam held the doors open. “Thank you again, Shelby. I’ll be in touch.” Was it my imagination, or was he hurrying her along?

She passed by on a subtle cloud of floral perfume. The elevator doors closed between us. Sam stared down at me, jaw clenched, a storm brewing in his eyes. I pressed my sweating palms to my thighs and stared back at him, trying to gather the words I needed to say.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he said.

“Yes, I decided to come in. Catch up on emails and stuff.” My blood pressure began to climb. Curious eyes stared over the tops of the cubicle walls. I fought to hold my tone at an even level.

“You could’ve done that from home.” Disapproval sharpened his voice. Oh, God. Was he still angry? He was. I could tell by the tension in his brows, the tilt of his head, the turbulence in his glare.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”

“I’ve got a conference call in ten.” The wall of his broad chest loomed in front of me. He drew in a deep breath then exhaled. “Of course.” He didn’t touch me as we walked down the hall to his office. Before I’d lost the baby, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Now it was like an invisible barrier had been erected between us. He closed the door and took a seat behind his desk. The cool, masculine tones of the room suited him—dark wood, muted shades of blue on the walls, and black leather furniture. “Talk.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it.” Once I began, the words tumbled out in a rush. “I know you’re hurting, too. And I was wrong to lash out at you the way I did. I’m just so angry and messed up.” My lower lip quivered. I bit down on it, feeling like I might fracture into a million tiny pieces at any second. “My emotions are all over the place. I can’t seem to get a handle on them.”

Sam stared at me, palms resting on his thighs, face blank. I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. “Get over here,” he said.

“What?” I pressed my palms together to ease their quaking.

“Now, Dakota.” He shoved back from his desk. When I didn’t move fast enough, one of his long arms snaked out and snatched my hand. With a tug, he pulled me into his lap.

Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth and familiarity. My nose found the hollow of his throat. His clean, woodsy scent filled my senses. I let out a breath—one I hadn’t known I was holding.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Hey.” His deep baritone rumbled through my body. It was one word, textured and complex, layered with a multitude of regret. His words healed my wounds. “You don’t apologize. Not to me. Not for this.”

A painful lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it down, unable to speak. Instead, I clung to his wide shoulders. He pulled me closer, burying his nose in my hair, squeezing me until my ribs ached, like he hadn’t seen me in weeks instead of hours. Tears began to pour down my cheeks.

Sam reached for the intercom. “Mrs. Caldwell, cancel my meetings for today.”

“All of them?” Her startled question echoed out of the speaker.

“Yes. And have Rockwell bring the car. My wife and I are going home for the day.” Sam hung up and shifted my weight on his legs. His big hands soothed up and down my back. “It’s okay, baby. Let it out.”

The deep, soothing rumble of his voice brought surprising comfort. I cried until my eyes ran dry. When my sobs finally ended, he tightened his embrace and rocked me. “I needed you, Sam,” I managed to say. “I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I know. I fucked up.” He pulled back and put a finger beneath my chin, tilting my gaze up to meet his. His eyes searched mine. “I thought I was doing the right thing, building up the business for our family, but my place is here with you. I’ll hire someone to help out. Let the people come to me if they need me.” The pad of his thumb swept over my bottom lip. “Starting today, we’re never spending a night apart. If I need to travel, you can come with me. I promise you.”

“What about Takashima? And your other businesses?” His work had been an integral part of his adult life, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of his dreams. “You have goals, and I can’t be the reason you don’t achieve them.”

“That will never happen.” The intensity of his gaze heated my blood. “I gave up everything for you once before. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Loving you isn’t a sacrifice, Kota. It’s a privilege.”