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Visions of their baby, now dead, tormented her. A little boy who looked like Chad. The image of his other baby, Linda’s son, stole into her mind. Why had Chad abandoned his son?
She fell on the bed and closed her eyes. She’d shower in the morning.
* * *
“Rise and shine, lady of the manor!”
Catie opened her eyes to Dominic strolling about the roo
m, opening the shades. Morning sunshine flowed into the room, hurting Catie’s eyes.
“Goodness. What time is it?”
“Eight a.m., chérie.”
“Oh, my.” Catie sat up and stretched. Her body itched with grease and grime. She so needed a shower.
“Take care of yourself, chérie. I will have café au lait for you in the kitchen in half an hour.”
“You’re a gem, Dom.”
Dominic’s steam shower soothed her aching bones. She disconnected the showerhead and let the water pulse over her abdomen, relieving some of the residual cramping. She was still bleeding, and probably would for a few days, the doctor had said.
She dressed in some of Dom’s sweats she found in the room. They hung on her, but they were soft and comfortable. She ambled out to the kitchen, sat down at the table, and fingered a flaky croissant.
“Here you go, just like you like it.” Dominic set a cup of steaming café au lait in front of her. She inhaled the smoky aroma. Mmmm. She had missed this. She’d missed Dominic.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
“That is Christian,” Dominic said. “You sit tight.”
“Caitlyn!” Christian pulled her up into a bear hug. “When Dom said you were returning, I was so happy.”
She melted into the handsome blond’s embrace. Oh, she had missed her friends. She inhaled the aroma of his jacket—stale cloves and smoke—Indonesian cigarettes. She’d never been able to convince either Dom or Chris to quit smoking. Right now, his scent was the sweetest thing she’d smelled in a long time. She inhaled again and closed her eyes.
Until a deep-timbre cut into her thoughts.
“Get your filthy French hands off my wife.”
Chapter Nineteen
Chad’s possessive voice trickled over Catie like warm honey. She turned in Christian’s arms and gazed into her husband’s smoking dark eyes. They were sunken, a little wet.
Had he been worried?
“Chad. What are you doing here?”
“I came for my wife.”
“But—”
“Get your hands off her.” Chad stalked forward, his eyes glittering with rage. “I mean it, friend, or you’ll wish you had.”
“Chad, you don’t understand.”
“I understand plenty, sugar. You left me.” He yanked her out of Christian’s embrace. “How could you leave me? Without a word? I didn’t know where you were, where you’d gone. You wouldn’t answer your cell.” He shook his head, his eyes boring into her. “Do you hate me that much?”
“I… I never hated you, Chad.”
