by JC Harroway
She mentally shook herself, sucking in a calming breath. She wasn’t prone to ooh-ing and ahh-ing over babies. She always had her shit together and she never cried either. She refused to start now. Sonya needed her.
‘Amelia,’ said Sonya. ‘We named her after Rich’s grandmother.
Libby nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. Well done, you.’ Libby squeezed Sonya’s fingers and took the seat next to her bed, grinning at her friend.
When their smiles had dropped, Libby said, ‘What’s with the tube?’
She’d noticed Amelia had a small hollow tube in her mouth, her tiny lips suckling it even in sleep.
Fresh tears gathered on Sonya’s lashes. Why had she asked?
‘She has a congenital condition.’
Libby hid her shock, passing another tissue to her friend and taking one for herself. Just in case.
‘It’s called choanal atresia—it means her nasal passages didn’t form properly and she can’t breathe through her nose.’
Libby scrunched the tissue in her palm. ‘Is it serious?’
Her respect for Sonya skyrocketed. Not enough that she’d undergone an emergency C-section to bring her daughter into the world, she now faced further anguish and her tiny newborn might require surgery.
Sonya nodded. ‘It’s life-threatening. Babies are nose-breathers. She turned blue the first time I tried to nurse her.’
Her sniffs intensified as she tried to continue her story. Libby could only watch and wait, her own eyes burning.
‘Most terrified I’ve ever been in my entire life.’ Sonya gripped Libby’s fingers tighter. ‘She’ll need surgery—probably later today or tomorrow.’
Libby reeled. No wonder her fearless friend couldn’t stop crying. ‘Where’s Rich?’
‘I sent him to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. He hasn’t eaten anything for twenty-four hours.’
Libby dipped her head. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have been here sooner.’
Sonya shook her head, her eyes landing on Amelia and softening. ‘You couldn’t have done anything. It all happened so quickly in the end.’
Libby nodded, at a loss for words. What could she say to comfort her friend? What did she know about what Sonya and Rich were facing? She’d written off having children after Callum died, but the surge of protective instinct crushing her from the inside out gave her a small insight into what they must be feeling.
The women stared at the sleeping baby, turning to face each other with matching indulgent grins on their faces. It was hard not to smile when such incredible beauty existed.
‘I love her so much,’ said Sonya. ‘I didn’t realise it would be so...instantaneous.’
Libby nodded, a boulder-sized lump lodged in her chest. ‘Of course you do. She’s perfect.’
Her gaze returned to Amelia, drawn back to the tiny human. For the first time in three years she allowed herself to think, to dream of a future. A future that embraced the kind of love Sonya talked about. The kind of love she felt for Alex.
The moment the plane had left French soil—left him—she’d realised her mistake. Every mile that had carried her home had pulled her apart. Rather than providing perspective, as she’d hoped, being back in New York, in her apartment, had merely intensified the jumble of conflicted feelings inside her.
She loved him. She had no idea what to do about it, but she accepted it as truth.
Give me everything, Olivia.
Why hadn’t she?
Sonya shifted in the bed, pressing her lips together and clutching her stomach.
Libby startled from her reverie, her hand gripping Sonya’s arm.
Her friend breathed out on a slow exhalation. ‘I’m fine. Afterpains,’ she said in explanation.
As if she hadn’t been through enough, there were afterpains? What the hell...?
‘Tell me about France.’
No... If she thought about France she’d think about Alex and then the gut-churning would return—that fluttery feeling in her chest that told her she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.
She plastered on a fake smile for Sonya’s sake. Her friend had enough on her plate without Libby’s self-inflicted dramas. ‘I didn’t see much of it. Just Nice. It was...nice.’
Libby’s smile turned genuine. She’d managed to entice a giggle from her friend.
‘Beautiful countryside.’ She clutched her stomach. ‘I ate too much. The French people are delightful, although I couldn’t understand a word—’
‘What about Alex?’ Sonya cut straight to the chase.
She’d known it was coming, that the question was inevitable. They’d been friends for many years. But she wasn’t prepared for hearing his name, and the blow winded her as much as Sonya’s revelation about Amelia.
She swallowed, psyching herself up to talk about him. ‘He...he’s fine, I guess.’
Please let him be fine. Better than fine. She must have pissed him off, rushing out on him the way she had. He’d understand the emergency, but he was smart enough to fill in the blanks. She’d run rather than face him. Face her fear.
‘You don’t know? You haven’t been in touch? Sonya’s brow pinched, her eyes searching.
Libby shrugged. ‘I wanted to get back to see you.’
Hot shards pierced Libby’s lungs. She’d left him with only a feeble text message in explanation. She’d ignored his calls and texts, telling herself her friend needed her and she could only deal with one life-altering situation at a time.
She looked down at her hands clutched in her lap. ‘I was always going to leave.’
Sonya’s labour had only sped up Libby’s departure. But, oh, how she’d paid the price for her cowardice. Her body was disjointed, her mind flitted aimlessly, unable to settle on one thought, and hateful waves of emotion threatened to break at any second. Would she ever feel normal again? Should she even crave that insipid state? It was so pale in comparison with her wild week with Alex.
She’d never be able to fill her days with enough work, exercise and reading to match the soul-deep contentment she’d found with him. He’d brought her back to life. Not his wealth or his gifts, nor even his enforced adventures. But him. The person. The man who gave everything he had to making a difference. The man who’d given her what she needed. The man who’d shown her she could love again.
Sonya had fallen quiet and keenly watchful. Libby brightened and plastered a smile on her face, but clearly she wasn’t quick enough.
Sonya’s stare was shrewd. ‘Are you seeing him again?’
Libby swallowed. Stalled. She wasn’t ready to confess her true feelings for Alex. To anyone. She hadn’t had enough time to pick them apart and Sonya would think she was mad, falling for a man she’d only known for a week. Who did that?
Fortunately she’d prepared a speech for this eventuality. ‘Perhaps. But we both work insane hours and live on different continents, so the chances are slim.’ Acid burned her throat. Chances he’d want to see her now were less than slim.
‘You don’t want to make it work?’
It was a question, but it felt like a statement. Sonya knew her so well. Had been there for her through the dark times. She should have known she’d see right through her and her attempts at nonchalance.
Libby looked at her hands in her lap, her throat tight and her eyes hot. Fatigue made her feel heavy in the chair, the weight of what she’d done pressing her down. She’d had long sleepless hours to make sense of her true feelings—first on the flight from France and then while she paced her apartment, waiting for the sun to come up so she could visit her friend.
Without conscious thought she let the confession tumble out on a whisper, as if the words spoken any louder would have more power over her. Power to hurt.
‘I fell in love with him, Son.’
She kept her eyes trained on he
r fingernails, blind to everything as she forced air into her lungs. Tried to breathe through a different kind of grief. Not as acute or violent as past pain, but just as devastating.
‘Of course you did.’
Sonya was quiet. Libby swallowed, pushing down the overwhelming swell of emotion inside. A tidal wave crashing ashore and destroying every wall she’d built to protect herself over the years.
‘You know...’ Sonya stroked her hand, drawing her back from the abyss. ‘Here’s the thing about love...’
Libby swallowed, meeting her friend’s sincere gaze.
‘We have no choice, do we?’ Sonya flicked a glance at her sleeping child, her face aglow with maternal love. ‘It’s the best emotion and the worst, because it has the power to hurt us like nothing else.’
Libby nodded, her throat too constricted for her to respond.
Sonya’s sad smile wobbled on her lips. ‘But I wouldn’t change it. Not for a second. You don’t need me to tell you it’s worth it.’
Her eyes burned into Libby’s, speaking what she hadn’t said aloud. Love was worth the pain. Worth the risk.
Alex was worth loving. Not that she had any choice in the matter.
Libby nodded, lips tight, holding on to her panic, which urged her with every passing second to race to JFK and jump on the first flight back to London.
‘If he loves you back,’ said Sonya, ‘it’s not too late. Don’t wait. Tell him.’
Both women were startled when the door opened and Rich entered, his gaze landing first on Sonya, then on his daughter, and finally on Libby.
As if through a fog, she congratulated him and made conversation for a few more minutes. When Sonya tried to hide a yawn she made her excuses and left the new family to themselves, knowing these moments were precious.
Outside the hospital, she hailed a cab. Sonya was right. Alex was worth the risk. And she had little choice. She loved him. She could either live a careful life, nursing that love alone, or she could commit to it. Surmount the obstacles, the distance, and love him with her whole being—the way he deserved to be loved. The way she deserved.
By the time she entered her office she’d tried his cell phone and his home phone, with no success. His voicemail mocked her. His deep voice a form of aural torture. She’d had a chance at something rare and extraordinary and she’d let it slip away. No. She’d flung it away, as if it had burned. But the pain of her cowardice hurt so much more than the pain of her bravery—especially as she only had herself to blame.
She slammed through the foyer, startling Vinnie, who was in the middle of a call. He hung up, his grin wide, and then let it fall slightly when he saw the expression she clearly couldn’t hide.
He stood, rounding the desk with his arms outstretched for a hug. ‘Welcome back, hen. Did you have a good trip? Have you seen the wee one? Och, she’s a darling. Made me quite broody myself, she did.’
Vinnie always fired multiple questions, as if he already knew the answers.
Libby laughed into his chest, on the verge of sobbing. She accepted the comfort of his hug for an indulgent, unprofessional second.
‘Please don’t call me hen. I’m not a chicken.’
Vinnie rolled his eyes, this well-worn argument clearly having no effect on him whatsoever. ‘You get settled, I’ll make you a brew, and then you can tell Uncle Vinnie all about it.’
Her spirits lifted. She could always rely on her outrageous, thick-skinned assistant to cheer her up. She forced her smile into a semiserious scowl. She couldn’t let him get away with everything, or he’d run the show.
‘I’ve told you a thousand times. Libby, Ms Noble or even Boss is preferable.’ She handed him the small gift she’d bought in London, her throat hot and achy again. Fuck this day and its crazy mood swings. ‘Thanks for caring for Sonya and holding the fort.’
He clutched his mouth, his eyes round. ‘It isn’t...?’ He caressed the square package lovingly. ‘Scottish? Och, hen, you shouldn’t have.’
She laughed and nodded. ‘Would I bring you shortbread that wasn’t Scottish?’
He hugged her again, his delight infectious. ‘You’re the best boss in the world, hen.’
Libby rolled her eyes. ‘Speaking of which—work to do. First, can you please get Alex Lancaster on the line for me?’
She checked her watch, calculating the time difference.
‘He should be still at the office. Speak to Molly, his PA. He might be at the Able-Active charity. And then you can get me up to speed on everything I’ve missed—celebrity gossip notwithstanding.’
Vinnie placed his gift in the drawer with reverence. ‘I’m on it.’
‘And did you send through that list of applicants for Sonya’s position?’
He nodded, moving to the coffee machine they kept in the corner, pre-empting her next request.
Her office seemed unfamiliar, disjointed, as if someone had shifted the walls or changed the view through the windows. Had she really only been away a week? So much had changed—her most of all. Now the familiar, the previously comforting, felt like a cage, holding her back.
Distracted, she checked her e-mails, ignoring the fifty or so business-related ones that required her attention before she could leave for the day, her eyes scanning for one from Alex. Nothing. What did that mean? He was over her? He’d accepted her departure without question? He’d moved on?
No. She couldn’t allow herself a trip down to that particular mind-trap. Not until she’d spoken to him. Told him how she felt.
With impatient fingers she composed a brief e-mail to him, requesting a phone call. She couldn’t put what she had to say in an e-mail. The words were so big she’d break the internet.
Within seconds an automatic response landed in her inbox. Her stomach lurched. Alex Lancaster was out of the office, all requests should be directed to Molly.
What did that mean? Was he still in France? Perhaps he’d moved up that business trip to Japan he’d told her about. Perhaps he’d taken a holiday. Perhaps he wanted nothing to do with her.
Libby straightened her desk, aligning the pens to her left and the pot plant to her right, restless energy bubbling beneath her skin.
Vinnie entered with her coffee. ‘No luck with Mr Lancaster, I’m afraid. And I can’t get hold of Molly either.’ He took one look at her face, placed the coffee on the desk and headed for the door. ‘I’ll keep trying.’
For the rest of the day she worked in a fog, achieving little, upsetting Vinnie and checking her phone and e-mails every thirty seconds—like a teenager with her first crush. Impotence gripped her, its claws sinking deep until she wanted to climb out of her own skin.
By five, she’d abandoned hope for any constructive work. Her temples throbbed, her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep, and her mind was sluggish with jet lag.
She closed her laptop in disgust, shrugged into her jacket and yelled out to Vinnie, who’d wisely kept a low profile for the last two hours. ‘Any news from Sonya? About the surgery?’
‘It’s scheduled for first thing tomorrow.’ His voice boomed back from the outer office through the open adjoining door. He was clearly pissed with her.
Fine. She was pissed with herself. She prided herself on knowing what she wanted professionally. How had she got it so wrong when it came to her personal life?
She stuffed her tablet into her bag and snatched up her still-silent cell phone, tempted to hurl the useless device through the window.
The time for waiting was over. It was time for action.
She called out to Vinnie again, too impatient to wait the few seconds it would take her to walk to his desk ‘Vinnie, book me a flight to London asap.’
What was she thinking? She had work commitments, clients to see, Sonya to support. She couldn’t just up and leave again.
But she couldn’t sit and do nothing either.
> ‘Ah... Ms Noble,’ said Vinnie, his cautious tone carrying through the open door.
Great—now he’d resorted to sarcasm to wind her up. He never called her that, despite her constant reprimands.
‘I have Alex Lancaster for you.’
Her feet stalled. Her belly flip-flopped. Had she heard him correctly? She reached for the edge of her desk to steady herself.
‘Put him through.’
She turned, skirted her desk, dropped into her chair. Her hand hovered over the phone on her desk, her belly rioting. Vinnie mumbled something she didn’t catch. Now really wasn’t the time for him to have a meltdown. As soon as she’d spoken to Alex she’d apologise to him for her crappy mood today. Promise to take him for lunch tomorrow at his favourite bistro. Buy him a stack of his beloved magazines.
Why wasn’t he putting through the call?
She couldn’t wait. With a sigh, she strode to the open door that connected her office to that of her PA. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’ll just take the call here.’
She flung open the door.
And came face to face with Alex.
The air left her lungs with a thump. Her stomach recoiled from its temporary location in her throat. Her eyes raked him from head to toe. He was real. He was here. In the flesh.
‘Olivia.’
A curt nod. Unreadable eyes. Unsmiling mouth.
But, oh, the scrape of his voice over her strung-out senses was so welcome. Her lungs stuttered back to life, relief pounding through her, quickly followed by thick, syrupy lust. What a sight. Just the way she liked him—nerdy graphic T-shirt, relaxed jeans hugging his hips, his hair an unruly mess that begged for her fingers.
His delicious scent stole all the air from the room. Her mouth dried. Her brain shut down.
‘I...’
He’s here. Say something.
‘How are you?’ She flicked her gaze over him. ‘What are you doing here?’
Behind Alex, Vinnie was fanning himself, dramatically, his gaze sliding over her man. Libby sheathed her claws. Alex wasn’t her anything. She’d thrown him away.
‘We have unfinished business.’ He quirked one brow, his mouth tight, giving nothing away. ‘I have a car downstairs. Would you join me so we can discuss it?’