Her heart kicked up its pace. He couldn’t know about the baby. Could he? She didn’t answer him, just eyed him as warily as she would a tiger that had escaped its cage.
He smiled but the effect was feral at best. “When were you going to tell me? Never? Did you think you could keep it a secret forever? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t want to know?”
She was crowded, both by his body and by his words. Sophie stepped back a step, then two, then three. But it proved pointless. He followed, not about to give her an inch of leeway.
“What are you talking about?” But of course she already knew. Marcus must have told him.
“The baby,” he confirmed, his voice clipped. “Our baby, Sophie. Why were you hiding it from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding it.”
“Oh really? What do you call deliberately keeping the existence of my child a secret from me?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Frustration skewered her. “When was I supposed to tell you, Trevor? When your girlfriend was hanging on your arm?”
“How about when we were alone last night?”
“It didn’t feel like the right time,” she answered truthfully. She placed a hand on his arm. “I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d have another child after Elizabeth died.”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “Especially not with me.”
“Not with anyone,” she corrected, turning away from him to walk to the window at the opposite end of the room.
She looked down into her backyard, easily recalling lazy summer days like this spent watching Peter and Elizabeth playing below. Never had it occurred to her, in all her misery, that she would be able to piece her heart back together again. Never had she thought she would love again, love so strongly, but she did.
She pressed her forehead against the cool pane of glass. If only Trevor returned the emotion, any emotion other than anger, that she felt for him. Had she been a project to him, like finding a bird with a broken wing? He had taken her into his life, healed her and changed her for the better. But when she’d been too afraid to trust again so soon, he had moved on to the next woman.
“This hasn’t been easy for me, you know,” she said to him, still gazing out the window.
He came to a halt at her side and gripped her elbow, turning her to face him. “I don’t imagine it would be.” His eyes on hers were piercing. “Finding yourself saddled with the child of a man who could never measure up to the sainted Peter. It must have been very difficult for you. Jesus. Are you even going to keep the baby?”
“What?” The question stunned her, then infuriated her. “How can you ask such a question of me?”
Trevor’s expression was cold. She almost didn’t recognize this man before her, this angry, distant stranger.
“Do I really need to elaborate, Sophie?” There was an undertone of savagery in his voice, a hint of the uncivilized she always sensed beneath the arrogant, polished façade.
She crossed her arms over her chest in an unconsciously defensive pose. “I think you do need to elaborate.”
“Fine.” He paused. “I don’t mean to be brutal, but for a woman who was on the brink of suicide six months ago, a baby is a big step.”
The room blurred before her eyes, becoming a fuzzy patchwork of color and light like a faded Impressionist painting. “How dare you throw that back at me now?”
His eyes were flat, hard, and ruthless. “You know I have every right. You’re carrying my child. I need to know that you’re ready for this.”
Sophie stepped away from his dominating presence. “I think you should leave now.”
He didn’t budge. He remained where he was, his gaze probing, refusing her the ability to break eye contact. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t answer to you,” she told him, turning to leave the room.
He caught her elbow in an uncompromising grip. “Yes you do.”
Beyond angry herself now, she chose words designed to strike back at him. “I slept with you. That was it.”
“Ah.” He smiled but it was not a pleasant smile. “I see. How could I have forgotten? The only man who means anything to you is Peter.”
“That’s right,” she agreed, latching onto his words as an excuse.
Trevor’s mouth tightened and his jaw clenched. “News flash, Sophie. Peter’s in the ground and I’m right here.” He startled her by splaying his large hand over her belly. “I’m the one who made this baby with you, not him. You better get accustomed to that, sweetheart.”
With that parting shot, he released her and stalked from the room, leaving Sophie to deal with the aftermath of her emotions.
The sun was beginning its descent before Trevor found Sophie. He’d driven in circles for hours, working through his jumbled emotions before deciding he needed to see her again. He’d been a complete ass, treating her as if she meant nothing to him, and he regretted his actions. By the time he’d returned to her home, she’d been gone. Claire, pity written all over her face, informed him Sophie had gone to the cemetery. His frantic mind barely processed the directions she gave him before he hopped back into his car.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he slid his car into park alongside Sophie’s repaired SUV in the cemetery parking lot. Had she come here to cry tears over her dead husband’s grave? To beg Peter’s forgiveness for having a child with another man?
The possibilities tormented him, as did the knowledge that he, Trevor, had driven Sophie here with his actions. In his fury, he’d pushed her away, toward Peter. Christ, how could one man be such a complete idiot?
He was out of his car and striding through the wrought iron gates before he realized Sophie was walking toward him. She stopped when she saw him, not twenty feet away.
He went to her, the need to make amends strong within him now, mingling with the need to reclaim her as his. Sophie didn’t belong here in this lonely, silent home of the dead. She belonged with him.
Once, he had told her to shake off the chains binding her to the past. Would she ever be able to do so completely? The long drive had given him time to reflect on everything. After his initial anger faded, he was forced to admit he loved Sophie and now that she was carrying his child, he would do anything in his power to keep her in his life. To make her fall in love with him if he could. Even if that took the rest of his life.
He stopped before her, wanting to touch her, to take her in his arms, to beg for her forgiveness and her love. Instead, Trevor allowed his gaze to hungrily consume her. He’d just seen her a few hours ago. It was impossible that she should look even more beautiful to him now. Somehow, she did.
Maybe it was the way the orange glow of the sunset made the auburn highlights in her hair shimmer and her eyes shine. Maybe it was the paint-spattered jeans and pink tank top she wore. Damn, but the woman looked sexy in pink, and she was so adorable when she had paint splattered all over herself.
It occurred to him that he needed to say something.
Sophie beat him to it. She tilted her head and regarded him with a frank and steady gaze. “What are you doing here, Trevor?”
At her words, he felt suddenly awkward, as though he had showed up at a party uninvited. Which was ridiculous, of course, given that this was a cemetery. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Your sister told me where to find you.”
A slight, almost wistful smile curved her lips. “I know this is a strange place to come when you’re feeling troubled. I guess it’s like a reflex. For so long, I came here for comfort. It just seemed natural.”
He didn’t want Sophie to turn to a cemetery for comfort, for Christ’s sake. He wanted her to come to him. But with the way he’d acted, he could hardly blame her for coming here instead.
“Did it make you feel better to come here?” Trevor asked, somehow needing to know.
She shrugged. A light breeze kicked up and blew a tendril of
hair across her face. “I used to feel better when I came here. Now I just feel hollow.”
He smoothed the hair from her face before he could stop himself. Hell, just that little bit of contact and he was instantly hard. In a cemetery, of all places. Somehow, that just seemed wrong.
Her hand closed over his, turning it so his palm faced upward. With her thumb, she traced the lines running across his hand. She was being so gentle, so tender. It was killing him.
“Please forgive me,” he blurted, the words sounding hoarse. “I was an ass.”
When she didn’t answer, desperation sliced through him. He tightened his fingers around hers. “Please, Sophie.”
He never begged, but he was begging now. Christ, he’d get down on his knees if he had to.
“You had every right to be angry,” she said softly.
If possible, her acceptance made him feel even lower. The wind kicked up again, blowing wisps of hair across her face once more. He tucked the errant strands behind her ear.
“I had no right to say the things I did,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean a word of it, you know.”
Shie gave him one of her rare smiles and then astounded him by closing the two steps that separated them and sliding her arms around his waist. His arms closed around her in a tight embrace, his eyes stinging with what must have been tears. She said nothing, merely pressed her face against his chest and held him. Trevor’s heart pounded. He felt as though he’d won a battle.
And maybe he had in some way. Burying his face in her soft, luxurious hair, he breathed deeply, inhaling the sweetest fragrance on earth. Vanilla and the woman he loved. The woman who was going to have his child. He promised himself then and there he would swallow his pride, tamp down his jealousy, and do whatever he had to do to keep her in his life, by his side. He needed her that much.
“This baby is nothing but a blessing for me,” she said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “I want you to know that.” She looked up, her expression cautious. “Do you believe me?”
He did. It was right there in her eyes. Trevor couldn’t manage any words past the lump in his throat, so he kissed her instead. He meant it to be a relatively chaste kiss, but the minute her lips responded to his, his intentions were all shot to hell. He groaned as her mouth opened, her tongue tentatively brushing his. The kiss deepened, becoming powerful, voracious. His hands slid down her back to cup her rounded bottom and pull her body closer to his.
There was nothing he wanted more than to make love to her right there, on the grass beneath their feet. But this wasn’t the time and it certainly wasn’t the place. Cemetery, he reminded himself. This is a cemetery. With great difficulty, he pulled his lips from hers.
“Regardless of the circumstances, despite what you feel for me, I want to be a part of this baby’s life.” He paused. “A big part.”
He tensed, awaiting her answer, uncertain of what it would be.
She caressed the side of his face, her touch hesitant, like a whisper over his skin. “I’d like that.”
“I’m going to move down here,” Trevor announced, realizing it was the only answer.
His pronouncement appeared to have stunned her. “Why? When?”
He raked a hand through his already disheveled hair. “To be with the baby. I’ll rent an apartment here as soon as I can.”
“What about the gallery?” she countered. “What about Dominique?”
“I’ll commute,” he responded easily. “As for Dominique, she can manage without me, I’m sure.”
He could seeshe wanted to ask him more questions, but first he had one he wanted to pose to her. “Were you really planning to keep our baby a secret from me?”
“No. No, of course not.” Her eyes were vivid as they met his.
He trailed his knuckles down her neck then slid his hand around the base of her skull. Sophie let out a little sigh as he massaged the tense muscles there.
“Are you disappointed?” He searched her gaze. “That it’s mine and not Peter’s?”
She stiffened. “Never, not even for a minute.”
“Would you take me to their graves?” The question escaped his lips before he could stanch it or rethink it. It was an odd request, he knew and one he likely had no business making, but he needed to reach peace with her past. Even if Sophie never did.
She nodded and stepped back from his embrace. She didn’t question him, but seemed to understand his needs, perhaps better than he even did. She laced her fingers through his.
“Follow me.”
She led him to the rear of the cemetery, to a plot shaded by a maple tree. Sophie stopped before a large, polished gray stone. There was a small bouquet of withered roses in a metal vase at the base of the stone, no doubt put there by Sophie. Beloved husband and daughter, the stone proclaimed in bold, chiseled letters. The sight of that headstone made Peter and Elizabeth real to Trevor for the first time.
His fingers tightened over hers. What could he say? “I’m sorry.”
She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips. “Death is a part of life. It can make you strong or it can make you weak. I’ve learned it can make me stronger than I ever thought I could be.”
Trevor was humbled by her acceptance. She had come such a long way from the broken woman he’d pulled from a mangled car. Being with her here by the gravesite where she had spent so much time alone felt right. He pulled her against his side and slid his arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. She laid her head against his shoulder.
“Thank you for coming here, Trevor.”
“I had to.” He kissed the top of her head. She was so precious to him. How could he have ever fooled himself into believing he could live without her?
“When Peter and Elizabeth first died, I came here every day,” she told him. “The first night after they were buried, Claire had to come and take me home. I would have spent all night here.” She paused, looking as if she were collecting herself as the painful memories rushed back over her. “It was just so sudden. One day, I had a family and the next I was alone. For so much of my life, I was Peter’s other half and then I was Elizabeth’s mother. I didn’t know how to be anything else.
“At first, I left everything in the house the way it was when they died. Peter’s shoes were by the door. Elizabeth’s pajamas were laid out on her bed. Claire packed everything away for me because I couldn’t stand to look at their things and know they were gone.”
Trevor wrapped her in a hug, desperate to comfort the delicate woman in his arms. He could feel her grief like a tangible pain in his own heart. “You don’t have to tell me this, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“I want to.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I want you to know that I’ve put that part of my life behind me.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I know that. But I need to tell you that the woman I am today is not the woman you first met. Before I came to New York, I came here to the cemetery to say goodbye. I’m ready to move forward, with our baby. I’m ready for a second chance at life.”
Our baby. God, how those words all but brought him to his knees.
“I’m going to be a father,” he managed, awed.
“Yes, you are.”
“Damn but this feels strange,” he admitted to her. “We’re having a baby. You and I are having a baby. I still can’t believe it.”
“I know this is a shock,” she murmured. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Don’t even say it. I want to be here for you both. I want to go to doctor’s appointments. I want to be a part of your life again, Sophie. Will you do that for me, sweetheart? Will you let me back into your life?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“We’ll do this together.”
“Together.” She echoed the word, a full smile blossoming on her lips.
He wanted to kiss that beautiful mouth of hers. He settled for dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“I want to tell my sister and the kids the good news. Will you come with me tomorrow?”
Sophie hesitated and Trevor thought he may have pushed her too far. “What am I thinking?” He flashed her a self-deprecating smile. “It’s not like we’re even a couple, for Christ’s sake.”
“I’d love to go with you to tell your sister and her family,” she surprised him by saying.
“Okay.” He tried to contain his satisfaction but had a feeling his attempt was unsuccessful. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night?”
Sophie nodded. “Sounds fine to me.”
Trevor indulged himself then, leaning down to kiss her fully on the mouth. Ah yes, he thought as her sweet lips responded. Definitely a battle won.
Danielle and her husband didn’t live more than twenty minutes away from Sophie’s house. The drive was charmingly picturesque, along winding country roads that didn’t even have lines painted on them. Sophie was taken aback to find Trevor making a left turn onto a stone lane.
“They call this a driveway,” Trevor said wryly.
She took in the rolling cornfields surrounding them, awed by the simplistic beauty of it all. The driveway looped around a turn and dipped down into a valley. Trevor hit a pothole as Danielle’s house came into view.
“It’s bumpy,” Sophie acknowledged. “But I like it.”
And what she wouldn’t give to paint it. Danielle’s house was as charming as the land. It was an old farmhouse fashioned of brown stone with a matching bank barn in the rear.
“Your sister lives here?” Sophie couldn’t contain the amazement in her voice.
Trevor shot her a look. “I know it’s a far cry from New York. Hell, it’s even a far cry from your house. I used to wonder why Danielle would ever want to plant roots in a place like this. It’s in the middle of nowhere, for Christ’s sake. I’m so accustomed to the city, where everything you need is within walking distance. But now—”
He slid his car into park alongside a dusty black SUV. Sophie waited for him to continue, but sensed his inner struggle as he weighed his words.
Reprieve (Love's Second Chance Book 1) Page 18