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Damn it. He’d done what she’d asked but he couldn’t go on like this. If there was any chance she was feeling half as miserable without him as he was without her, well he had to damn well do something about it.
He pressed her name in his phone and put it on speaker. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Damn it.” He tried again. No luck.
But suddenly, not speaking to her wasn’t an option. Not hearing her voice, looking into her eyes, knowing she was okay… he had to do something.
He reached for his desk phone. “Anissa, tell Luca I want the helicopter in the air in ten minutes. Heading to the airport. Have the jet ready to fly to the States. It’s urgent.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WEATHER CAUSED SEVERE DELAYS. Knowing he was so close to Bella, but still a city away, made him want to rip the earth apart with his bare hands. He stared at the fast-falling snow with a sense of impotence that was at odds with his usual attitude and he wanted to kick himself. Now that he was here, he wondered why he hadn’t made this decision sooner? Why had he let her push him away?
She was hurting. He got that. But silence wasn’t helping. Silence was only making it harder. They both deserved more than this.
Okay, maybe he didn’t.
He deserved nothing beyond the misery he was experiencing. But what if he really could fix this for Bella? What if he could make her listen and understand? What if he could talk himself hoarse and get her to see that a childish infatuation with Kat wasn’t the same as a relationship? That Kat’s desire to leave her marriage probably had nothing to do with him – any younger man who was swept up in her beauty and sophistication would have done.
God, what if he could get her to see, as he had finally been able to with Kat?
“Sir? The flight’s been grounded overnight. I’m sorry. There’s no way to get into Aspen.”
“No way?” He asked his pilot, his eyes showing determination.
“No. Half the roads are closed – it’s a blizzard out there.”
“Half?” His eyes narrowed as he focused on his pilot. “Meaning half are open?”
The pilot stared at him as though he’d lost the plot. “Yes, sir.”
“Then I will drive.”
“But Mr Katrakis, truly, the…”
“I will drive.” He stood, his expression one of fierce determination. He didn’t care if it took him all night. He couldn’t just sit around waiting. One way or another, he would get to her.
On Christmas eve morning, Bella woke feeling as though she were being pummeled from the inside out. She’d read all the pregnancy magazines, telling her about what her baby’s first kicks would feel like – a little pop, soda fizz inside her belly. Gentle little taps.
Not a full soccer team having a penalty kick off at full speed just beneath her ribs.
“Woah,” she sat up, pressing a hand to her belly. Her belly kicked back, hard against her palm. She laughed, in spite of the fog of grief that had laid siege to her. Next minute, her stomach seemed to roll, like a tidal wave against her belly button.
She lay back in bed, keeping a hand on her stomach, waiting for the next movement, laughing when it came, staring at the ceiling, and aching for being alone in that moment, when all she wanted to do was share it – with Sophia, or Vitalo, or even her mother.
Her heart twisted inside of her, and her stomach kicked and she reached for her phone, loading up a text message to Vitalo.
The last message in her phone was from her to him, about the sonogram. He hadn’t replied – just like she’d instructed.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, and the baby kicked. Bella sighed. It was about the baby.
She typed :Our baby’s started kicking.
Then deleted it, then typed it again, and added,
It feels weird.
She sent it before she could second-guess her intentions, then sat up straighter. She was hungry. Starving.
