Back in Auckland, the week dragged. Julia spoke with Ryan on the phone each morning and most nights too. They chatted about the club, about his music and the tour and skirted the topic sitting like a dinosaur between them. Heck, there was no point discussing it until Ryan heard the results of the DNA test.
Her phone rang. “Julia, have you seen the paper this morning?” Maggie asked.
Something in her friend’s tone sent a frisson of warning darting through her in a pinball fashion.
Ryan. The baby. It was bad news.
“No, I never have time to read the papers.”
“Where are you?” The urgency in her friend’s voice confirmed her fears.
Julia squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m at the club. I wanted to run through the routine for the fan dance on the stage again. Susan will be here any minute.”
“Wait there for me,” Maggie said. “Connor and I are on our way.”
Julia hung up, forcing her mind away from Ryan and their problems. Someone knocked on the front door, and she went to answer it. Susan rushed inside, her cheeks blooming with health. She was looking good these days.
“I’m so psyched about this dance. I thought I’d be petrified, but it’s such a tease. I can’t wait to do it the first time in public.”
Julia nodded, forcing her mind into a reboot. Focus. “Me too. I hope the crowd will enjoy our new routine.”
“They will. We’re getting good numbers through the door each night. The bank overdraft has disappeared.”
“Maggie and Connor are on their way,” Julia said. “You ready to rehearse your number?”
“Yep.” Near the stage Susan tossed off her coat to reveal her leggings and tight T-shirt beneath. She vaulted onto the stage, grabbed her white feather fans from the dressing room and returned. Julia started the music and watched Susan go through her moves.
“A bit slower at the start,” she suggested. “Make each move subtle and languorous. Speak with your hands and your eyes to the audience. Yes! Perfect.” When the music came to a crashing crescendo and faded, Julia clapped. “You will wow them tonight.”
Someone hammered on the front door, and Julia’s phone rang. Maggie, she saw when she glanced at the screen. “That’s Maggie and Connor. I’ll let them in.”
One look at their concerned faces, and she realized it was bad. She stood aside and wordlessly gestured for them to enter. After shutting and locking the door behind them, she turned to them again. “It’s Ryan’s kid.”
“Yes. Wait, you knew?”
“Ryan and I talked about it last Saturday. How old is the kid?” She held her breath, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. Ryan had remembered the woman and said her story sounded legitimate. The worry in his voice had amped up her own fears. Now the truth thumped her like a death blow.
“They say he’s almost three,” Connor said.
Julia’s shoulders slumped while she groped for mental control. Okay. Everyone had things in their past—mistakes—that came back to haunt them. Lots of people had illegitimate kids, and they dealt with the problem. Ryan had said the woman was probably after money. Ryan had enough not to miss giving some away. “Is there anything else?”
“No, just speculation about Ryan’s identity.”
“Is the woman’s name mentioned?”
“She’s referred to as Leah K,” Maggie said. “I doubt it’s her real name.”
“Okay.” Julia walked past them and grabbed her fans off the stage. Not the time to think about this now. She had to hold herself together until she was alone. “Since you’re here, you can critique my routine. Music please, Susan.”
Julia spoke crisply, not giving her friends a chance to comment or speculate further. Fiercely concentrating on the here and now, the things in her control, she sucked in a deep breath while waiting for the opening notes. The sultry tones of the popular old song from the thirties rang through the club, and she flowed into her routine. She was the lady in the song, seductive and sensual, arms flashing. Teasing. Each flutter of the fans designed to conceal yet reveal, erotic tension at its best. She became one with the music, strutting, kicking her legs while keeping the fans in constant movement. The song came to an end and she stilled her two fans in front of her body, a little out of breath with the exertion of the dance.
For a long moment, not one of her friends made a sound, then the three of them starting talking together.
“That was amazing,” Maggie said.
“You make me look like an amateur.” Susan’s breathless opinion.
“Sex with clothes on,” Connor added.
“Imagine Julia’s act with the right lighting and when she’s in costume.” Susan went up on stage and gave her a swift hug. “You will wow the crowd tonight.”
Julia kept busy for the rest of the day, and each time her mind wandered to Ryan, she yanked it back to work. She checked the books, did the roster for the following month and cleaned up the dressing room. She rang her mother, who’d come through heart surgery well, and popped out to visit her in the hospital. If she kept moving, her fears wouldn’t catch up with her. She wouldn’t stare at her phone, waiting and wondering why Ryan hadn’t rung her.
One by one the staff arrived. When she walked outside to open the front doors and do her normal stint of meet and greet, she found a line. The cool breeze snatched away her startled laugh.
“Good evening,” she said to the group of women standing at the front of the queue. She recognized them from the previous weekend. “Thanks for coming back. Go straight on inside.”
“Thanks!” one woman said as she and her friends wobbled through the doors on their skyscraper heels, delicate and musky designer perfumes combining into an original bouquet.
“We love Maxwell’s,” the last of the women said. “It’s so classy.”
“Thank you.”
She greeted the next couple with a smile and nodded to several customers who’d visited the club during the previous week. Repeat customers. They were doing something right.
After half an hour Julia strolled back into the club and watched one of her acts with a critical eye. She nodded when the music ended, unsurprised by the enthusiastic applause. The girl was good. She checked her watch and headed for the changing room.
As usual, it was a cacophony of noise and dancers and color. Comforting and accepting. Julia dropped onto a chair in front of a lighted mirror and added more eye makeup. She pulled her hair out of the upswept do she’d started with and bushed it until the blonde strands glowed under the lights.
“All ready?” Susan asked.
Julia nodded, shrugging aside the unease that had crept inside her while she sat still. “Let’s do it and get the crowd warmed up for our special acts tonight.”
After her first routine, the evening passed in a flash. She rang Janet and ask how her mother was doing.
“She’s doing great,” Janet said. “The doctors are pleased with her recovery and say she should be out of hospital sooner than they’d envisaged.”
“That’s great news! Give her a hug for me, and tell her I’ll pop in to see her tomorrow morning.”
Julia mingled with customers and soon she was ready to introduce her new act with Susan performing straight afterward.
The onstage lights dimmed. Julia walked silently into position, despite the spiky heels of her red shoes, despite the faint tremor of her knees. She struck a pose, caught her breath and waited. The spotlight snapped on, enclosing her in a beam of light.
The aliens have got me. The fanciful thought curved her lips, and just like that her nerves settled.
She could do this.
The musical introduction started. Her fans fluttered above her head, showing the audience her sparkling black and red bra top and matching long skirt. The light caught the sequins, her sashaying steps displaying the long length of her legs, encased in fishnet stockings.
The vocalist crooned, his husky voice coming faster as the song swelled around her on the stage. She strutted, swayed, created mesmerizing patterns with each swish of her feather fans, yet never revealing her torso to the audience. Her back arched. She stripped the skirt off with one quick twist of her wrist. The silky fabric sailed toward the wings, one of the other dancers whisking it off the floor.
Julia glanced at the audience, those seated in the front near the stage. They weren’t talking. They weren’t drinking. They were watching her with avid attention.
The sultry music ebbed and flowed, the singer’s voice a husky croon slithering through her veins. The front closure of her bra top opened with a flick of her fingers and her breasts spilled free. She tossed the top into the audience and winked toward the man who caught it. Her feather fans fluttered, teasing. Always moving, yet never revealing her bare breasts.
The singer held the last note of the song before tailing off. Silence fell. Julia bowed, fans concealing her partial nudity. The crowd remained quiet, and the only audible sound was the pounding of her heart.
Frowning, she straightened, peering out at the shadowed club. Hadn’t they enjoyed her dance? Had she misjudged her audience? She opened her mouth to ask where she’d gone wrong. Then she noticed her customers standing. The applause and cheering was the sweetest music she’d ever heard.
Ryan stood in the back of Maxwell’s with Caleb at his side. Awe battled with an edgy side of jealousy as he stared at his wife gliding about the stage. Although the fans screened her body, he realized she was almost naked. Hell, every red-blooded male in the room knew her breasts were bare, their lustful thoughts almost deafening him.
“Your wife has spoiled me for every other woman,” Caleb said. “I wish she had a sister.”
The roar in Ryan’s head was loud and thunderous. It certainly stifled rational thought. His hands balled and his body tensed.
“Don’t hit me,” Caleb said after a sidelong glance. “Man, you’re in enough trouble without adding brawling to the list.”
“I don’t like these men looking at her,” Ryan snapped.
“They can’t see nothin’. She hasn’t flashed her boobs at anyone.”
“I can hear what they’re thinking.” Ryan’s weight shifted from foot to foot, desperate to rid himself of the influx of edginess. It struck him that this was what Julia had tried to tell him when she’d mentioned the single women who hung around French Letters.
“A lot of women come on to us,” Caleb pointed out. “That must be difficult for Julia.”
“Fuck off,” Ryan said, irked because Caleb read his mind way too often for his comfort.
“All I’m saying is that this is a job for her. She’s turned a sleazy strip club into something classy and sophisticated.”
Caleb’s reasonable tone pissed him off. His friend was right, and that pissed him off too.
“What are you going to tell her?” Caleb asked.
Caleb wasn’t talking about the club or Julia’s performance. He meant the kid who was currently sleeping in the apartment he used to share with Caleb before he’d moved in with Julia. They’d left their grandmotherly neighbor babysitting. “The truth.” Yep, Caleb was doing his best work on Ryan’s last nerve. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t hide the kid. He’s my son.”
Caleb cursed under his breath. “I hope I don’t have any rug-rats out there. I never want to go through today again.”
“You want to try wearing my shoes,” Ryan snapped. Realizing he was delaying seeing his wife, he straightened. “I’m going to talk to Julia.”
“Good luck. I’ll be propping up the bar, watching the action if you need me.”
Up on the stage another performance was ready to start. The crowd seemed to straighten, the heightened interest a living, breathing thing. A purple spotlight flicked on, highlighting a masked brunette woman in a tight purple gown. She held two large purple fans in her hands. The surrounding patrons took a collective breath as they waited for her to commence.
Ryan wove between the tables, eager to see Julia again. A snatched phone call wasn’t enough. A security guard stood in front of the door leading to the dressing room. Ryan didn’t recognize the man.
“You can’t go in there.” The man might be elderly, but he possessed the solid hulk of a rugby forward, the crisp white shirt and black trousers all of Julia’s frontline staff wore highlighting the fact he’d kept up his fitness. “Staff only.”
“I’m Julia’s husband,” Ryan said. “I’ll wait while you check with her.” He appreciated the man’s caution and didn’t mind waiting.
The man returned with Julia on his heels. She bore a wide grin of welcome.
“Ryan, I didn’t expect you so early.” She threw her arms around him and squeezed him hard.
“Caleb and I were able to catch an earlier flight.” Despite the audience, he kissed her, taking his time. Delaying the talk, his conscience prompted because his son was a ticking bomb. “Do you have a minute?” He’d promised the babysitter he’d be back as soon as he’d spoken to Julia.
Her smile died, the pleasure at seeing him fading from her expression. “You look serious.”
He shrugged. “I need to tell you what happened in Sydney.”
Julia led him into the office and shut the door, proud of the way she’d greeted him without a hint of the anger and confusion or the plain panic that roiled like a ship in a storm inside her. “I saw the paper. The kid is yours.”
“Yes.”
Something in the way he answered made her scrutinize him more closely. She swallowed, afraid of what he might say next. Mentally, she ordered herself to calm down, but fearful thoughts collided with the secrets she’d kept, shoving her frustration levels higher. She cleared her throat, intending to ask about the child. That wasn’t what emerged. “I can’t have children,” she said baldly, cringing inside while she waited for the fallout. “Not easily because of the STD I caught.”
“What?”
She closed her eyes, pain stabbing her chest, making it difficult to breathe, to think. She groped for the words to make him understand. She should have told him about the baby weeks ago, but talking about it brought back horrid memories of pain and feeling achingly alone. Loss. Guilt. The panic she’d experienced when she couldn’t contact Ryan, the awful moment when she finally accepted they were over. “I’ve tried to tell you a dozen times.”
Ryan gaped at her. “But we talked about children. Why didn’t you tell me when I moved in with you?”
“How?” she demanded, her nostrils flaring. Heat flushed her cheeks as she fought the urge to fling an empty coffee cup at his head. “It’s hard enough to think about, let alone talk to anyone else. You told me you wanted children when the time was right. What did you want me to say?”
“Do your friends know?”
It was difficult to read him, with his hard face devoid of emotion. Yet his pale blue eyes bored into her, demanding answers, returning her glower with interest. She swallowed hard and studied her red shoes, noting the scuff on the left one.
“Julia.”
God, she had to tell him. She scowled at the offending scuff mark. “When you were on tour in Europe, I discovered I was pregnant.” Her lips twisted as her words tumbled out. “Hell of a shock since I was on the Pill. I tried to contact you and failed.”
“Julia.” Ryan moved closer and gripped her forearms. “What happened to the baby? Did you—” He broke off, his breathing sounding harsh in the enclosed office.
“I miscarried,” she snapped, lifting her chin to meet his unfounded accusation. She would never…he could shove his thoughts right back where they came from. “I didn’t abort the baby or give it away. I miscarried, Ryan. Christina and Susan found me unconscious in my apartment.” She couldn’t see, couldn’t focus on him, and realized her face was damp. She sniffed, knuckling away the moisture from her eyes. “I didn’t understand how much I wanted the baby until they told me I’d lost it. When the doctor told me it would be difficult to have more children I was devastated.”
“Hell!” He dragged his hand through his dark hair, leaving it ruffled. He took half a step toward her and halted, his arms falling to his sides. “I’m sorry. All this happened about the time I was mugged?”
She nodded, unable to speak past the lumpy obstruction growing in her throat. Her hands clenched and unclenched. He had a child. She groped to deal with the thoughts swirling through her mind, the white noise, the pain of losing their baby. Guilt because she kept wondering if she’d done things differently with her pregnancy. A rush of envy and resentment because he had a child with another woman.
“I can’t…I…can we talk about this tomorrow?” When she glanced at him, she caught his look of anguish and it ricocheted back to her, making her feel as if she rode an out-of-control train. Nausea curdled her stomach, and she swallowed.
“Hell.” Apparently his go-to word. His fingers worked his hair until the strands stood to attention, as agitated as him.
His reluctance to look at her forced a cry from deep in her chest. It halted at the clog halfway up her throat.
“Fuck.” His harsh whisper throbbed with pain. “Julia, I’m sorry. This isn’t good timing, but I need to tell you something.”
“What?” Something in her gut coiled tight and kept tightening until she wondered if she might snap and fly apart.
“The mother of the kid didn’t want him. She signed him over to me.”
Her mind whooshed. It buzzed and clanged with frenzied thoughts, with helplessness, with stabs of pain.
A child.
She gasped for air. The reality of Ryan’s son forced raw memories to the surface—memories of her baby, their baby. The stunned surprise on learning she was pregnant. Her initial panic, slowly replaced by the joy that encroached, one day at a time. She’d wanted to be a mother, wanted it so desperately. Then came the sheer black terror of knowing there was a problem, the agonizing cramps in her belly, the knowledge she was losing her baby. She pressed her right hand to muffle her cry of pain, the memories she’d concealed and boxed away ripping jagged holes in her composure. “I…I…can’t. I…”
Ryan stared at her, his lips pressed together, his impatience obvious in his glance toward the door. “I have to go. I’m staying at my old apartment tonight with Caleb and need to get back to relieve the babysitter.”
Julia stared at him, unable to pluck the requisite words from her cement-mixer mind. The pause lengthened. Heck, she didn’t know what she should say or think when grief was jabbing her with pointy spears, bringing back the nightmare in glorious color. Blood. Pain. Concerned faces. Doctors. Pure, blinding white agony and dark days filled with nothingness.
“Right,” Ryan said in a hard voice. “I’ll meet you for breakfast in the morning. We have decisions to make.” His body tense, he hesitated a fraction longer, but when she remained silent, he stalked from the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
The tiny snick sounded like gunfire, as if he were closing the door on their marriage.
Julia stumbled to the closest chair, turmoil crashing her senses, nausea still heavy in her belly as she squeezed her eyes shut. She pressed a hand to her chest and concentrated on small, even breaths when what she really wanted to do was crawl under the desk and hide.
A tap sounded on the door seconds later. It opened and Maggie popped her head through the gap. “Connor and I are—what’s wrong?” She hurried to Julia. Connor followed, pausing to close the door behind him.
Julia blinked and, after groping for words to explain, started talking, sparing a thought for the irony. She managed to talk to her friends—the Tight Five—but not to her husband. “I told Ryan about the baby I lost. Blurted it out when he told me about his son. I couldn’t…I couldn’t… The mother doesn’t want her child.”
“He’s keeping the kid?” Maggie sounded surprised.
“I don’t…I think so.” She threw up her hands in disgust at herself. “All the pain of losing our baby sort of exploded inside me. I froze, and I…he left.”
“Why didn’t you tell him about the baby earlier? I presume he was the father?” Connor asked.
Julia gave an irritable shrug, angry at herself as well as Connor for stating the obvious. “I know. I know. I should’ve told him, but I decided the divorce would go through and it didn’t matter. And the longer I left it, well, the harder it seemed to introduce the topic. He told me how much he wanted kids. What was I meant to say to him? You have no idea how guilty I am for losing our baby. I keep thinking I could’ve done something differently. If I’d realized I was pregnant straightaway and stopped drinking.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Connor said. “I was there when the doctor told you it wasn’t your fault and sometimes there’s no medical reason for a woman to suffer a miscarriage.”
“Just because the doctor said it doesn’t mean my mind accepts his word.”
“What are you going to do? Where’s Ryan now?” Maggie asked.
“He’s gone back to his old apartment. We’re meeting for breakfast.”
Connor crouched in front of Julia. “What do you want to do? There is another angle to this. You don’t need to be a biological parent to make a good mother or father. You’ve met my stepfather. He loves me, and he has been a damn sight better parent than my real father. Talk to Ryan. Tell him what you’re feeling. Maybe this is a chance to start afresh.”
“But he’s away on tour all the time, and I have the club to run. Neither of us knows anything about children. Our work schedules don’t fit with children.”
“Julia, you’re just making excuses,” Connor informed her bluntly. “Talk to him, tell him everything. Lots of parents work at demanding jobs and still have great kids.”
Maggie sent him a silencing look and grasped one of Julia’s hands. She squeezed it tightly. “No one ever said it would be easy, but you can make it work—if you want. Do you love Ryan?”
Julia gave a jerky nod, not having to consider her answer.
“Then it’s simple. Don’t wait until the morning,” Maggie said. “Talk to him now. Listen to what he says and ask questions. We’ll drop you off at his apartment if you want, but don’t leave this until the morning. It will be that much harder if you stew all night.”
The stupid lump in her throat kept growing and wouldn’t disperse, no matter how many times she swallowed. She croaked, “Okay.”
“Promise?” Connor persisted.
Julia gave a tiny nod. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll tell Susan you’re leaving. She’ll take care of the club.” Connor turned to his wife. “Meet you both out front.”
Half an hour later, Julia stood at the door of Ryan’s inner city apartment.
“Don’t make me come and buzz the apartment for you, Julia,” Maggie said, her tone faintly threatening.
Julia flipped her friend off and squared her shoulders. She pressed on the buzzer. Only then did she hear Connor drive off. They’d been right to wait. Her friends knew she was behaving like an idiot, and the temptation to run might prove appealing. She’d promised Connor she’d tell Ryan everything, even her fears that he’d no longer want her now that he’d learned the truth.
“Yeah.”
She identified the tinny voice as Caleb’s. “It’s Julia.”
When she reached their apartment and tapped on the door, it flew open. Caleb glowered at her.
“About time,” he snapped.
“Can I come inside?”
In one of the rooms to their right, she heard a child crying. “Is Ryan in there?”
Caleb’s mouth was tight with anger. “Kid’s crying for his mother. Heartless bitch.”
Julia followed the heart-wrenching sobs and found herself in a small bedroom, only big enough for a single bed. Her gaze darted straight to the child who sat in the middle of the narrow bed. His inky black hair was tousled, curls sticking out on one side of his head while the rest of his hair plastered to his scalp. Tears rolled down his red cheeks, his cries tearing at her. He was little and obviously confused.
Ryan stood by the bed and glanced up when she entered. Frustration and fatigue lined his face.
“Ryan,” she whispered.
“Julia.” His tone was cool, his expression cautious.
“How long has he been crying?”
“Ever since we arrived home from the club,” Caleb said from the doorway.
“Why don’t you get us a drink of some description?” she said to Ryan. “I’ll see if I can settle him.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Go,” she said, turning her attention to the boy. He stared at her with big, blue eyes. Ryan’s eyes. Her mouth rounded in surprise. The boy was a miniature of Ryan, and so obviously his son. The hair. The pale blue eyes fringed by dark lashes. The same shaped face. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
He took a noisy breath and stared at her. Finally he gnawed on his bottom lip. Julia could see he was trying to work out who she was.
“I’m married to your daddy,” she said, her heart twisting at the tears swimming in those blue eyes. “What is your name?”
“Alex.” He sounded scared, and anger at the mystery mother swelled inside her.
“Are you tired?” A rhetorical question because his thumb had crept into his mouth. “Why don’t you lie down, and I’ll pull the covers over you.”
“I want Eddie.” His bottom lip trembled as he looked around the room.
Suddenly the clues made sense. She scanned the room, her gaze alighting on two bags. In one, she found a battered teddy bear. She held it up. “Is this Eddie?”
Alex nodded, reaching for the soft toy. He settled back, the bear clutched in his arms. His thumb drifted back to his mouth and his eyes fluttered shut. Julia backed from the room, leaving the door ajar so they’d hear him if he woke again.
Caleb and Ryan were in the lounge, both holding a beer and speaking in low voices. They stopped on seeing her, faces blanking. She’d been the topic of conversation.
“Is he asleep?” Ryan asked.
“He was crying because he didn’t have his soft toy.”
“Hell, I never thought of something like that. He didn’t say. Was there a toy with his stuff?”
“A teddy bear.”
“Thanks. I poured you a glass of wine,” Ryan said, gesturing at the glass on the wooden coffee table.
Caleb stood. “I’ll leave the two of you alone.”
Julia took a sip of the white wine. It was crisp and tart and delicious. She wandered over to the window and made out the brick wall of the building next door before taking a deep breath and turning to face Ryan. “Alex takes after you.”
His expression turned rueful, but when he focused on her, there was an edge of caution, as if he worried about her reaction. “It was like jumping back in time and looking at my reflection.”
“What happened in Sydney?”
He puffed out a breath of air and rose from the leather couch. “I received word of the DNA test results. My lawyer rang with them. As soon as it was official, Alex’s mother delivered him to my lawyer like a damn parcel.” He sucked in a quick breath, anger echoing in his voice. “Her lawyer drew up a legal document, and she signed away her parental rights. Evidently, her fiancé doesn’t want to raise another man’s baby.”
“She gave him away.” Julia struggled to understand a woman who rejected her child because he was an untidy interruption in her life. Adoption at birth—sure—but Leah K had kept Alex until it suited her, then disposed of her son, casually tossing him away in exchange for the man and the perfect life she sought.
“Yeah.” Ryan sighed again and nailed her with a determined look. “I’m keeping him, raising him as my son. He’s an innocent kid. None of this is his fault, and he shouldn’t suffer for it.”
Julia nodded, agreeing with him even as familiar anguish brought a rush of moisture to her eyes.
“Will you stay the night?”
“I…” Thoughts tore through her mind, tangling and tripping over each other. This was too much to take in right now. “No. I need to get back to the club and I want to check on Mum.”
“You’re running away.”
The words, stark and true, drew her up, sparked her temper. “What do you expect? You’ve thrust your son on me without warning, and I feel as if I’ve had my feet ripped out from under me. I need time, to work things out in my own way.”
Ryan stared at Julia, aware of the fear rushing into him. From the moment he’d seen Alex in the lawyer’s office he’d known he couldn’t walk away. Yeah, he’d suspected Julia would be upset, but he’d decided once she saw Alex and heard the details he’d talk her around.
Fuck, how the hell was he meant to realize Julia was dealing with all this other stuff, still grieving for the loss of their child?
Emotions shifted inside him, blindsiding him with their rawness. His hand tightened around his beer bottle while he struggled to find solutions, to battle the pissed sensation he experienced every time he recalled Julia’s confession. Damn it! Giving up Alex wasn’t an option, but he couldn’t lose Julia over this either.
He glanced at her pale face, took in the tense lines of her body. Part of him wanted to draw her into his arms and offer comfort, but her expression screeched back off. Hell, maybe she was right. They both needed time because the other part of him wanted to rip into her, to tell her he’d had a right to know about the miscarriage. It had been his child. His loss too. The familiar twangs at his temples signaled an oncoming headache.
“How long do you need to think?” Agreeing to her suggestion was a bad idea. Time apart was what started this cluster fuck.
She met his gaze this time, and the grief in her eyes almost buckled his knees. They needed to get past the hurt. Honesty. Yeah, they both needed a good dose of candor.
“I’m worried if I back off and give you too much time, you’ll decide divorce is the only option for us.” His words shimmered in the air between them—a softly spoken gauntlet. “The one thing I am certain of in all this bloody mess is that I’ve never stopped loving you. I want you in my life.”
Some of the tension left her shoulders, and she angled her body toward him. “I didn’t realize marriage was so hard.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “Ditto on that, sweetheart.” Their shared grin, brief as it was, released some of the pressure in the lounge.
“Just a few days,” Julia said. “I promise I won’t run away or do anything stupid.” This time Julia’s manner was easier, and when he closed the distance between them, she didn’t remind him of a wild animal, intent on escape.
He took her wine glass and set it and his bottle aside. “A few days, but we talk every day.”
“I promise.”
Relieved she’d conceded that much, he tugged her into his arms, ignoring the sharp darts of his headache. She relaxed against him and some of his dread dispersed. Something about this woman called to him. Even when his memory had let him down, he’d known she was there, waiting for him. After all that, he didn’t intend to walk away and lose her, but he wouldn’t reject his son either. Alex was the innocent in the middle of the mess, and he had to do right by him.