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My heart tugs painfully as I lift them from the drawer, one by one, and stack them on the printer table. It pains me that there won’t be a little Harper running through the house. With our future so unsettled, I can’t be certain we will ever have a child together. That’s nearly as heartbreaking as losing the baby.
It crosses my mind that we didn’t use protection tonight, but I rub my eyes without comfort. It’s unlikely she’s gotten pregnant again, but if she did, I wouldn’t use that as a way to keep her with me. As much as I want Harper to stay my wife, I no longer want it to be against her will.
I want her to love me completely.
Why it’s so important isn’t something I want to contemplate.
Rising from the chair, I take the books and hide them in a cabinet filled with business tomes Harper would be unlikely to investigate. I don’t want her stumbling across the books like I did, experiencing the painful reminder of what might have been.
After stowing the books, I go back to the desk and open my email. I spend the next hour working steadily through the messages, many of them frantic ones from my assistant regarding a business deal that’s apparently on the verge of collapsing.
Leaning back in my chair, I consider the options. The sensible thing to do is to fly to London and secure the deal myself. The thought of leaving Harper, especially as vulnerable as she still is, has me rejecting the notion out of hand. In an unaccustomed move, I type a terse message instructing my assistant to go to London and close the deal. If he’s not able to, it won’t be the end of the world. The Satyros Corporation is stable and secure for Sophie if and when she’s ready to take it over.
Thinking of my niece brings me back to thoughts of Harper. The passionate time in bed lightened my heart, but I can’t be completely optimistic that she’s decided to stay with me. The sex between us may be amazing, but it might not be a good enough foundation on which to build a true marriage.
I continue sorting email as I consider ways to convince her to stay. Nothing comes to mind. But I freeze and lean forward when I see an email from Maia Papadas. My stomach drops as I reluctantly click on it.
I snort with disgust at the obscene picture she’s sent. The attached message is almost as unsettling. Enjoy the view. I will soon be in New York, and you can look AND touch. I look forward to when we are together again, now that you have no reason to stay married.
My eyes narrow as I reread the message. It’s clear she knows about the baby, and that Harper’s lost it. How could she know such intimate details? The only plausible explanation is someone’s been giving her information. But who?
I hit “Reply” and stare at the blinking cursor, finding I can’t muster a response. The things I want to write shouldn’t be said to anyone, even her. With a sigh, I close the message but don’t delete the email. I know I will have to deal with it soon, but can’t tonight. The need for sleep finally catches up to me, and all I want to do is crawl into bed, hold my wife, and slumber.
The next morning over breakfast, Harper seems to enjoy a friendly conversation with me. But I don’t feel comfortable to repeat the question that she can’t, or won’t, answer. Despite how much it burns me up to not know the answer. I set the tone, keeping the conversation light and centered on neutral topics.
As we near the end of the meal, my phone rings for the fourth time. I start to silence it like I did before, but Harper shakes her head. “You don’t have to avoid answering for my sake. Whoever it is obviously needs to talk to you.”
I nod and click the button. After a few minutes on the phone, I’m growing progressively more annoyed. When I hang up, I curse. “I have to go to London. My assistant is incapable of the simplest tasks, it seems.”
She clunks down her coffee cup, but otherwise shows no negative reaction to the news. “How long will you be?”
I shrug. “Honestly? I have no idea.” I eye her, thinking. “Come with me,” I venture.
She frowns. “What would I do in London?”
“London’s a fantastic city. You’ll have no shortage of things to do. I can’t be with you during the day, but I should be at your disposal most evenings.” I lift her hand, bringing it to my mouth to kiss her fingertips. “I could use a companion for the business dinners I’ll have to endure.”
Harper shakes her head. “You won’t need me for that.”
“Perhaps not, but I do need you, and I want you to come with me.” I lean closer. “Have you been to Kew Gardens?”
With a shake of her head, she says, “I’ve never been to London.”
“Now is the perfect time.”
She hesitates, clearly torn between the desire to go and the more prudent course of staying behind. As each moment passes I worry she’s going to say no. Then, with a sigh, she opens her mouth and I fully expect her to refuse, but says, “When do we leave?”
17
Harper
Five days in London with Jayson have been wonderful, just what I needed to shake off most of my lingering grief. I’ll always think of our child with sadness and longing, but it now seems possible to move forward and be happy again. While wandering the sites of London, including Kew Gardens, I come to the tentative decision that I want to move forward with Jayson.
We celebrate our homecoming with glasses of wine by the fireplace, though it’s too warm for a fire, followed by a night in bed. When I wake the next morning, Jayson’s already left, but he did warn me the night before that he had an early meeting.
I stretch, working out all the kinks from the previous night. A hot shower leaves me refreshed, and I pad downstairs in my bare feet after dressing casually in a dress of soft material. The maid brings breakfast in the dining room, and I finish every bite. My appetite has returned in London, burning through curries during the day and finer restaurant fare at night. I could go for another round of greasy fish and chips, wrapped in the stereotypical newspaper, after having it several times at the stand just blocks from the hotel.
