Ben
I opened the door to my hotel room to find a tear-streaked and sobbing Fiona.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” I guided her inside and closed the door. She crashed against my chest, burying her face in my shirt as she cried. I brought an arm around her, doing my best to comfort her.
“I had my last insemination today.” She sucked in a breath to steady herself, her eyes gazing down at the floor. “They won’t do any more on me because it’s not safe to be on those drugs for longer than twelve cycles. That was my thirteenth. I had to beg them,” she said, her voice just a small rasp.
I’d never seen her so down. “So there’s still a chance, right?”
“No. I just know this isn’t going to work. Why would it? The other twelve didn’t. Maybe God or whoever’s up there”—she looked up at the ceiling—“doesn’t want me to be a mother.”
I remained silent, unsure of how to comfort her. I was completely out of my element.
“And even if I could find a new doctor to convince to work with me and take another round of treatment, we’ll be leaving in a few weeks and you’ll be back in New York, busy with your new girlfriend, too busy to help me with my injections.”
“Hey.” I reached out for her hand. “I’ll never be too busy for you.”
She laced our fingers together. “I know. You’re too good to me.”
Unsure of what else to do, I pulled her to my chest for a hug, and Fiona nestled against my neck. After a few moments, the sobs racking her chest had quieted and her hands slid down my sides to cup my ass.
I stepped back. “Fiona,” I pleaded, my tone a weak excuse for a warning. It would be so easy to slip back into our old roles, to fall into bed together, to comfort her that way. But I realized that it never made me happy. I never could sleep for shit the times we did share a bed. That was reserved just for Emmy.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and blinked up at me. Fiona was a beautiful woman—even with her tears. But I couldn’t do this.
“Ben . . .” She didn’t say anything else, just continued pleading with me with those intense brown eyes.
“If I could fix this, Fiona, I would. You know that.”
Recognition seemed to click for us both at the same time as our gazes snapped together and she took a step closer. “Ben, you could fix this. You could give me a baby. The most beautiful little baby.”
“Fiona . . .” I shook my head.
“Ben . . . no one has to know . . . Emmy doesn’t have to find out. . . .”
I released a frustrated sigh. Fiona had worked hard to build my career, to make me wealthy and successful over the past five years. She’d worked nonstop for me, forgone dating and relationships . . . and I couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been working so hard for me, perhaps she would have settled down into marriage and kids by now.
I led her over to the bed and we each sat on the edge. I hated the hopeful look in her eyes. Growing up without my own father made me damn sure that when I did have kids someday, I wanted to raise them.
“No one will ever know,” she whispered softly.
I gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll run you a bath. Do you want to stay here with me tonight? Watch movies? Order room service?”
She smiled weakly. “Thanks, dear. That’s brilliant. Exactly what I need.”
“No problem.” I rose from the bed, leaving her to run a bubble bath in the big Jacuzzi tub. I needed to call Emmy but settled for sending her a quick text while the tub filled.
25
Emmy
I didn’t like going even one day without talking to Ben. So even though his text said he’d be busy, I couldn’t resist calling him a few hours later. Of course, as soon as I dialed, I wished I hadn’t.
Fiona answered his phone.
But worse than that, she said he was sleeping and she didn’t want to wake him. Then she promptly hung up on me.
I felt like murdering someone after that. I settled instead for a five-mile jog, a steaming hot shower, and then went about my day. He’d certainly have a lot to explain when he called.
The shrill tone of my cell phone woke me in the night. I fumbled to find the phone and quickly answered it to stop the ringing.
“Hello?” I croaked, my voice rough from sleep.
“Emmy, baby . . .”
“Ben?”
“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Ben, what’s wrong?”
His long pause reminded me just how far apart we were. “I needed to hear your voice.”
His tone was somber, sad. Something was wrong. “You don’t sound well. What time is it there?”
“Six in the morning.”
He was either up early or really late from the night before. “Did you sleep okay? Why did Fiona answer your phone last night?” The memory came rushing back with resounding clarity.
“She did?”
“Yeah. She said you were asleep.”
“I must have had too much to drink and passed out. I’m sorry.”
“Ben, did something happen with Fiona?” I couldn’t shake the unmistakable feeling of panic creeping into the edges of my brain.
“You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?”
I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I wouldn’t, baby. I promise. Just trust me, okay?”
I didn’t answer, my mind abuzz with questions. There was something he wasn’t telling me but I wasn’t brave enough to ask just then.
“Okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah, Ben. I trust you. I just don’t trust Fiona.”
“I can handle Fiona. Just don’t worry, okay?”
“I miss you,” I admitted, my voice a tiny whisper.
“I miss you more. Not long now and then I’ll be home.”
I could not freakin’ wait. I hated the feeling that Fiona thought Ben and I were getting too close and had purposely created this distance between us.
26
The day Ben was due home, work dragged by at a horrible pace. I tried to focus, I did my best, but my gaze constantly wandered to the clock. Ben’s flight was due in later that morning and he’d promised to come straight into the office to see me. We were going to lunch. Unless I could talk him into taking me straight home for a midday romp between the sheets. Eating was overrated. And I’d missed him terribly.
At ten o’clock, Gunnar stopped by my desk. “Come on. Fiona wants everyone gathered in the conference room to make some big announcement.”
I looked at him curiously. Maybe she was announcing my promotion. I rose from my desk and stood a little taller in my heels. I’d done well in Paris, and I put up with all her diva demands with a smile on my face. It was paying off. “What do you think it could be? Heard any rumors?” I asked as we ventured down the hall.
