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“I am so?—”
“I know the whole story,” Patrick continued. His face was carefully blank. “Or most of it, anyway. I know Aleksander forced you to steal the painting. I know that your real name is Emma Armitage, not Emma Reynolds. I know that you left messages for me in the Aurora. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I only have one question.”
“Anything.” Emma propped a hand on the desk to stay on her feet. She felt faint again.
“I need to know this. Please be honest with me.”
“I will.” Emma’s heart squeezed. He probably wanted to ask her what Aleksander had on her. Or he wanted to know where the painting was. Or perhaps how she’d infiltrated his company to begin with so that he could tighten security procedures.
“Everything that happened between us, our connection, was that real? Or was that all a lie?”
“Patrick.” The tears that had been threatening spilled down Emma’s cheeks, but she paid them no mind. “It was real. It was all real. I know I did a terrible thing. I know I betrayed you, and I hurt you. But everything I felt for you was real. Except for giving you a pseudonym name, everything I told you was real, too.”
“It was real for me.” Patrick stepped closer and took her hands in his. “I know we have a lot to sort out. I know it’s been months. But I felt something for you back then, and I feel the same thing now.”
“You do?” Emma was breathless now. She freed one hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” he said. Emma put her hand back in Patrick’s, and he squeezed it. “I won’t lie. It hurt me when you disappeared after our night together. But not because of the painting. I already cared about you more than any of my art. It hurt me that you left without saying goodbye.”
“I’m so sor?—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Emma. I know Aleksander must have had some kind of leverage on you.”
“He did. He had evidence on me that could have gotten me sent to jail. But I know I shouldn’t have lied to you, and I’m?—”
“Emma. Stop apologizing. I know this must have hurt you as much as it hurt me. Maybe more. The only person I blame is Aleksander Ariti.”
Emma let out a slightly watery chuckle. “He is… bad.”
“That’s an understatement. I feel bad that I didn’t notice something when he pulled you aside to dance with you at the gala. But we can sort out all the details later. What I need to know now is if you want to… well. If you want to try again. With me.”
His face was so open, so warm, so hopeful that Emma wanted nothing more than to say yes. This was everything she’d been dreaming about for the last six months. Patrick wanted to try again. What could be better than that?
But she couldn’t say yes. The moment stretched, and Patrick’s face began to close. Emma needed to tell him about the baby. Right now. She couldn’t commit to trying again until she was completely honest with him.
“Patrick.” She squeezed his hands, then let them go and reached for the ties at the back of her smock. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Apprehension seemed to war with hope for control of his handsome features. “What is it?”
Emma struggled with the tie before it finally came free. Slowly, she lifted the loop of the smock over her head and let it slide down into her hand. She raised her other hand and set it on the round curve of her stomach, which was now very visible beneath the loose top.
“She’s yours.”
For a moment, Patrick still seemed confused. Then he looked from Emma’s stomach to her face and back, a whirlwind of emotion flickering across his face. The moment stretched as Emma waited, her heart in her throat, to see if her heart would be broken again.
CHAPTER 20
PATRICK
Patrick stared at Emma, speechless, as she slowly slipped off her smock. Beneath it, she was wearing a long skirt and a flowy top. At first, he just waited for her to tell him whatever it was she had to tell him. Then he saw the swell of her stomach beneath the top and heard her say two words, words he’d never expected her to say. Two words he had trouble understanding at first.
“She’s yours.”
On the way to the community college where Emma taught, Patrick had played out the scene of their reunion a hundred times in his mind. He’d wondered if he might feel differently when he saw her; perhaps the strong feelings he couldn’t shake were just a product of the old adage “distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
But then he’d seen Emma, and he’d known that those feelings were as real as the sky above or the paints around them or the warmth in Emma’s chocolate brown eyes. He’d known, in that instant, that nothing from their past mattered. If she felt the same way he did, he knew they could weather any storm. They could rebuild their trust and grow the connection he already knew they shared.
When he’d confessed his feelings to Emma, her silence had been deadly. He had wondered if everything had been a lie, despite the hidden messages and Aleksander’s coercion. Or perhaps she had found someone else in the months they’d been apart. He could hardly have blamed her; she was a beautiful woman and anyone would be lucky to be with her.
