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“I guess I’m glad she was with you.” He smiles ruefully, bitterness coating his tone like syrup on a spoon.
“I wanted to call you.” I drop my gaze, unable to watch how he reacts. “I probably shouldn’t tell you—”
“You should.”
“We’d been talking about it for days. The entire pregnancy. Abigail would never give her opinion because she said it was up to me, but when I told her to get the phone, that I wanted you there—” Bo makes a noise in the back of his throat and my own tightens. “—she got it for me. She was ready to dial… and then I had to push because we needed to get her out. It wasn’t until after that she said anything about it, but I… I didn’t think it was fair.”
Bo gets to his feet and begins to paces in front of the fire, his long strides eating up the room. It hurts to watch him.
“No,” he mutters, hands pulling at his hair. “It wasn’t fair. I missedeverything—”
“Because I was afraid,” I finish. “You’re right, Bo. We did make a mess out of this.”
“What do we do now?”
I get to my feet and walk over to him, my steps slow and measured so I don’t give in to the urge to run.
Run to him, not away.
And I want to go to him, want to throw myself in his arms, apologizing for everything and showing him how much I missed him.
But not yet. And maybe not ever.
I stand before him and touch his arm. My fingers barely brush the flannel of his shirt when he makes a low groaning noise andbrings his hand to cup my face. I lean into his palm, and the moment lengthens.
The fire cracks loudly in the quiet room, but neither of us moves. I study his face like it’s the last time I’m going to see him.
Blue eyes the colour of the sky on a summer day. Dark blond hair that needs a cut. He’ll get wrinkles early because of the furrow on his brow when he’s deep in thought.
The reddish-blond beard tries to hide the mouth…
I trap his fingers between my cheek and my shoulder because I want him to keep touching me. It’s difficult to pull my gaze away from his mouth. The mouth that gave me so many different kisses over the years. My first kiss had been from Bo.
I always thought he’d get my last one.
The room is warm, warmer still being so close to Bo. What would happen if I leaned in, tilted up? Because of the height difference, I’d have to go up on my tiptoes unless he lifted me up. I’d wrap my legs around his waist…
“Hettie.” Bo’s voice is low and pleading and I sway closer.
Tema coughs in the next room.
The sound is like a bucket of cold water and I jerk my chin, Bo’s hand falling from my face. “Timothy.” The expression of horror on Bo’s face— “Not that I’m calling you Timothy,” I quickly add. “It’s just… I have… he’s…” I glance over to my phone like Timothy were sitting there with it. “Bo. I made a commitment to Timothy.”
“Yeah.” The word is so gruff it’s a growl.
“But I made a promise to you, all those years ago.”
He stares at me, blue eyes darkening, and I raise a hand to his chest, resting it over his heart.
How can you tell if you break a heart? Does the beat change? Does it stutter when it cracks in half? Is there a physical reaction to hurting someone that bad?
Can I break Bo’s heart?
“I need to decide what’s best for me, and for Tema,” I whisper. “I have to think of her. She has a life in Victoria. School. Friends. She’s happy there.”
“I know.” It’s almost a groan and his hands slide to my waist, resting on my hips. It’s a gentle touch but it burns through to my insides. His head droops and he looks so sad. “It’s just…”
“I know,” I breathe.