Chapter 9

 

 

 

That horrible bitch.

Chloe leaned against Sparrow, grateful that he wasn’t telling her to stop crying or urging her to calm down. He simply let her be, and that meant more than he realized.

It was bad enough that Carla Greyson had shown up at her door. Had she really come that many miles just to threaten Chloe to stay away from her son? Maybe she had another reason to travel, and Chloe had been had been a pit-stop.

Hell, maybe she would actually be able to get through to Norman and convince him to leave Chloe alone if she was that dead-set on making sure they stayed apart.

If Chloe thought Carla could actually manage it, she might have dropped to her knees and begged her to convince him to stay away. But acting as if Chloe wanted anything to do with him after all this time, that was beyond the pale. Chloe never wanted to see any of them again, least of all Norman.

I don’t want my bloodline sullied with the likes of yours.

Chloe clung to Sparrow tighter, rage starting to overtake her despair. Her father had been the gardener for the Greysons, and they’d seemed to like him well enough. After he died, they certainly hadn’t hesitated to offer her a home. Carla had been kind to her when she’d first moved in, though she was cool and aloof. They never got close. And it hadn’t taken very long before Chloe realized that the woman was jealous of the attention her son gave to Chloe.

Once she’d figured that out, she knew to be wary of Carla and not trust her for a second.

But when Chloe had lost the baby, Carla had merely patted her shoulder and said, “Perhaps it’s for the best, dear.” She’d never once asked Chloe how she was after, or checked on her to see if she was coping. She’d never brought up the baby again, despite how that was all Norman ever seemed to think about.

And now that Chloe thought about it, before her miscarriage Carla had never taken much of an interest in it. She’d had no sympathy for Carla’s horrible morning sickness, declaring that her pregnancy with Norman had been the happiest time of her life and she wasn’t nauseous for even a moment.

Chloe had felt almost like a failure at being pregnant when Carla talked about how easy her pregnancy was, how she glowed and had never felt healthier. It hadn’t occurred to Chloe at the time, but thinking back now—Carla had been gloating.

I don’t want my bloodline sullied with the likes of yours.

Her cold comfort after the miscarriage all those years ago took on a new edge. Chloe had thought she was merely disinterested at the time because she was so jealous of Norman. Now with her horrible crack about her bloodline, it seemed that maybe she’d been happy that Chloe had lost the baby.

Her breath hitched, and she wished she’d let Sparrow zap the old bitch but good.

Chloe lifted her face and sniffed, looking into Sparrow’s emerald eyes and his kind half-smile. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping tears away.

If Carla hadn’t interrupted them, Chloe would have let him have her right there on her couch. She’d never reacted to anyone’s touch quite that way. Right now they’d probably be curled together on the couch, sleepy from their orgasms, not standing there while Chloe cried for all the things she’d lost.

“I think I want a shower now,” she whispered. She wanted to wash Carla’s visit away, scrub until she felt clean again, maybe try to scrub the thoughts of Norman and Carla and the years she’d wasted from her mind and watch them swirl down the drain.

Sparrow nodded. “Whatever you wish, my goddess.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “Would you like my assistance?”

Chloe managed to smile. “No, thank you.”

“Very well. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

Chloe nodded and trudged into the bathroom. When she closed the door she hesitated a moment stuck between leaving it unlocked or locked. Did she trust Sparrow? She thought she did, even though everything he’d said and showed her seemed so unreal.

But nobody had ever been so attentive to her. And he’d slept naked with her in the same bed without taking advantage of her drunkenness. She’d thought she woke feeling curiously clean and normal.

Sparrow was trustworthy, even if he was a bit crazy and she was losing her mind to believe him. Perhaps the most trustworthy man she’d known.

But Carla’s face, Norman’s voicemail… Chloe locked the door, and it felt like a defeat.

The tears came before she’d even managed to turn on the water.