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Ten
Belle wasn’t there when he got home.
At first, he couldn’t believe it. He’d expected to find her in the great room, quietly stewing. Wes had arrived, flowers in hand, ready to smooth out every rut between them and charm her into seeing things his way. The reasonable way.
Now, he stood in the empty room, a bouquet of lavender peonies gripped in one tight fist. There was no sign of either his wife or his daughter.
Wife?
That word had popped into his head from God knew where, and Wes rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase it. But it wouldn’t go. When had he started thinking of Belle as a wife? About the time, he figured, that he’d realized he had no interest in living his life without the two people who meant everything to him. Staggered, he shook his head and kept looking around the room.
None of Caroline’s toys were lying abandoned in the middle of the floor. Belle’s electronic tablet wasn’t on the coffee table, and the house felt empty.
His heart fisted in his chest, and a soul-deep ache settled over him. Why the hell would she leave? He pushed one hand through his hair and turned a fast circle, checking every damn corner of the empty room as if somehow expecting Isabelle and Caroline to simply appear out of thin air. “She was supposed to be here,” he muttered. “We’re supposed to straighten this out. She’s supposed to listen to me, damn it.”
Refusing to believe that she would simply leave without a word, without even a damn note, he headed for the stairs and was stopped halfway across the hall.
“They’re gone.”
He stared at Bobbi and ground out, “When?”
“A few hours ago.” She leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed her arms over her chest.
Hours? They’d left hours ago?
“Why the hell didn’t you call me at work?” he demanded. “Let me know?”
“Because she asked me not to,” Bobbi snapped, her gaze drilling into his.
Looked like Belle wasn’t the only woman he’d pissed off today. His housekeeper was clearly disgusted with him. But that didn’t excuse her keeping this from him.
“You realize that you don’t work for Belle, right?”
“And you realize that I’m on her side in this, right?”
When had he lost complete control of his world? This kind of thing just didn’t happen to Wes Jackson. “You’re fired,” he said tightly.
“No, I’m not,” she retorted and pushed off the wall. Wagging one finger at him, she added, “You can’t fire me, because you need me. Just like you need Isabelle and your daughter.”
He felt the punch of those words as he would have a fist. She was right. He was alone and she was right. He did need them. Wes scowled more fiercely, not knowing whom he was more angry with. Bobbi? Or himself?
“That little girl was crying when they left.”
Himself, he thought. He was definitely most angry at himself. And yet, Belle hadn’t had to leave. She should have stayed. Talked this out. Wes swallowed back a fresh tide of anger rising up from the pit of his belly. Sure, he’d screwed up. But Belle had walked out. Caro had been crying. Had Belle cried, too? Regret shattered the anger, and guilt buried what was left. So many emotions were charging around inside him, it was a wonder Wes could draw a breath at all.
“You should have called me.” Turning his back on Bobbi, he took the stairs three at a time and headed straight to the master bedroom.
No sign of Belle there, either. Somehow, he’d wanted to believe that his housekeeper had been lying to him. That she was trying to make him wise up before facing Isabelle. But she hadn’t lied. He threw the walk-in closet door open and stared at the empty rack where Belle’s clothes had been hanging only that morning.
Hell, her scent was still there, lingering in the still air. Haunting him until her face rose up in his mind and he couldn’t see anything else. But she was gone.
He left his bedroom, stalked across the hall to Caro’s room and felt his heart rip when he found it as empty as the rest of the house. A soft whining sound caught his ear and he looked around the door to the child-size couch. Abbey was stretched out, as if waiting for Caro to come back. The dog lifted her head when he entered, then seeing him alone, whined again and dropped her head to her paws.
Wes knew just how she felt.
He glanced down at the peonies he still held in his clenched fist. Then he dropped them to the floor and stepped on the fragile petals on the way out of the room.
Grabbing his cell phone, Wes walked across his bedroom until he was staring out over the yard. He hit speed dial, and while he waited, he looked at the stables, then the corral, where Caro’s pony was wandering alone. His daughter should be there right now. Waving at him. Signing to him. But no, her mother had taken her away. Again.
