Sophia laughed, a hint of pink spreading through her cheeks. “Never around, thank God.”
“He’ll come to the ceremony.”
“Yeah, he kind of has to.”
Bella winced. “I’m sorry I won’t be there.”
“Me too, but the inoculations you’d need would be bad for the baby. I asked the country’s chief health advisor. There’s no exceptions.”
“I could stay indoors the whole time…”
“I’m not going to risk it. Not with my first nephew or niece in there.” Sophia kissed Bella’s cheek. “I’ll send pictures. All the pictures. Go shower. You’re looking a little too hobo chic.”
Bella laughed. “I’ve nailed it, right?”
“Yeah. Too well.”
Eggnog was something Sophia had made dozens of times – always with Bella. She pulled the ingredients out from memory, boiling off the rum so all the alcohol was gone, then turning her attention to the custard. She’d just checked the temperature with the candy thermometer when she heard a buzzing noise coming from the corner of the kitchen. Turning the heat off the stove, she moved towards it, pulling Bella’s phone out of her handbag.
Her stomach did a little flip flop when she saw the name on the screen: Vitalo Katrakis.
She threw a look towards the stairs – the shower was still running – and hesitated for the briefest of moments before swiping the phone open and holding it to her ear. “Hello?”
“I know you said not to call,” his voice was gruff and deep. “And I am sorry, agape, but it’s been days and nights and I am worried. I needed to know at least that you are okay. That you are somewhere safe and … I don’t know.” There was a sigh. “I needed to hear your voice. And to tell you that I am sorry and I wish… I could go back and tell you everything sooner, the night I came to you in Edinburgh.”
Sophia held the phone to her ear, trying to balance a natural tendency to sympathy with the anger she was feeling on behalf of her sister.
“Bella’s not here.” The words emerged clipped.
“Sophia,” he said after a beat, and before she could say anything or disconnect the call, he rushed on, “How is she? Please tell me.”
“Why?”
“You’re angry with me, too.”
Sophia expelled a breath. “Gee, am I? Why would that be? I mean, you’ve stuffed my mom around for ten years and now you’ve got my sister knocked up and broken her heart. Why the hell would I be angry with you?”
“It is more complex than that,” he said, his frustration obvious. “May I speak to Bella?”
“May you… are you crazy? No, you may not speak to her! You don’t get to call up like you’re loaded with concern when you caused all of this.”
“With respect, you know nothing about it.”
“I know everything,” Sophia said. “I know you lied every single day you spent with Bells and didn’t tell her about mom. I know you lied and you knew you were lying and you hurt her. I’ve never seen her like she was when she got here. You broke her heart and you don’t get a second chance. You ruined it – and while that might not sit very well with you, it’s something you’re going to have to accept.”
“Please.” The word was a groan, like a dying man might make. Sophia closed her eyes, her tender heart heavy despite her anger.
“No,” she insisted, then more firmly, “No. Don’t call again. Bella doesn’t want to hear from you.”
“I need to… please.”
“If you care about her even a little bit, you’ll let her move on.” She ran her fingertip over the bench top. “Don’t call again.” She disconnected the call and replaced the phone, glaring at it for a long minute before nodding, relieved he wasn’t calling straight back.
She whisked the eggnog, then poured it into two mugs and carried them into the lounge. By the time Bella had finished showering and changed into stretchy black pants and a pale pink sweater, Sophia had made her peace with what she’d done, telling herself intercepting the call and telling the jerk to respect Bella’s wishes was best for Bella.
There was no need to mention the phone call.
He shouldn’t have rung. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Bella stared at the sonogram screen, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. In the distance, she could hear the faint strains of carols, but they did nothing to cheer her.
“Is the baby okay?” She asked, her voice flat.
“Fine,” the obstetrician assured with a smile. “Did you want to know what you’re having? A boy or a girl?”
Bella blinked, her expression unchanging. Did she? Did she care whether it was a surprise or not? A pervasive emptiness had overtaken her since Sophia had left. She’d thought she wanted to be alone, but being alone was… lonely. With only her own thoughts for company, she was losing herself down a dark rabbit hole, filled with damp and fear.
“Miss?”
“Mrs Katrakis,” she supplied, swallowing. “Sure. What is it?” Maybe knowing would cheer her up? Would bring her back to the present and to some kind of excitement about the baby inside of her?
The obstetrician moved the wand about some more and then smiled. “A girl. You’re having a little girl.”
Bella’s eyes swept shut, and tears fell harder now. She couldn’t say if that meant anything to her, only that she didn’t feel happier for knowing.
“Great,” she faked it, smiling brightly because it was obviously expected. “But so long as she’s healthy…”
“Everything looks really great.” The obstetrician moved the wand away. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Regular meals, good sleep habits, take care of yourself to take care of the baby.”
Bella nodded, feeling like a fraud because she had taken practically no care of her herself since coming to Aspen.
“Thank you,” she said, pulling her shirt down, covering her bump.
“You’re well?” The obstetrician pushed. “Your moods are okay?”
“Fine,” Bella lied. “I’m great.”
The hospital was in the town and Bella stopped in a shop and picked up a hot chocolate, and listened to the sounds of other people talking for a while, allowing herself to feel less alone, less isolated, before heading home.
The cab dropped her off out the front and she walked slowly up the steps – snow and ice made them perilous – then pushed the front door inwards.
She shook the snow off her jacket before removing it and hanging it on a hook, her beanie followed, then she locked the door behind her and moved deeper into the house. It was completely silent.
With a heavy sigh, she put some carols and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, peeling it distractedly.
A girl.
They were having a daughter. And now, the emotions that had been locked inside of her during the appointment came screaming through her and she started to cry: loud, ugly sobs wrenching her apart.
Because knowing it was a girl changed everything – just as knowing it was a boy would have. She could see them clearly now – their family, as they might have been. She could see Vitalo as a father to a daughter, scooping down to pick her up and hold her close, to swim with her and play with her and make her giggle. Would she be like Bella and Sophia had been, with long, blonde-hair and too-skinny legs?
Bella sobbed, abandoning the banana on the bench top and grabbing her phone from her handbag. She stared at it for a moment, and then pulled the sonogram photo from her pocket, carefully aiming it away from the light so she could get a clear photo of it on her phone.
There was a little reflection, but not too much. She loaded it into a text message and started to type.
Vitalo, I had a scan today. The baby’s fine. We’re having a daughter.
Her finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and there were a thousand other things she wanted to say, but none of them needed to be said. None of them mattered.
Because she saw everything so differently now. Time, perspective, distance. She saw the wa
y he’d been at the wedding – not just drinking scotch heavily, but angry. Dark. Resentful. Bitter.
Hurting.
He’d been hurting.
And he’d used her to hurt a little less.
He hadn’t cared who she was, he’d just wanted to sleep with someone to put his anger out of his mind. He’d slept with Bella to get over Kat.
That certainty and thought would never dissipate, and nothing would ever make it hurt less.
Grinding her teeth together, she sent the text message and turned her phone off. She didn’t want to know if he replied.
Exhausted, she lay down on the sofa and prayed for the oblivion of sleep.
Vitalo, I had a scan today. The baby’s fine. We’re having a daughter.
He stared at the screen, his heart in his throat.
A girl! A baby girl.
God, Bella.
A visceral, gut-wrenching pain spread through him, an ache low in his gut as he read the message again and thought of his wife. He thought of her going to an obstetrics appointment on her own, of her lying on a table being examined, of her heart and mind as she learned more about her baby, their baby. He thought of her alone and his stomach swooped.
He pushed up from behind his desk, his breath raspy, his mind moving over the pieces. It had been two weeks.
Two weeks since he’d spoken to Sophia, and every day and every night he had fought an urge to call Bella. To call and make her listen to him. He’d drafted an email he’d never sent, an email that said everything he’d already said. An email that told her he’d never loved anyone before. Youthful infatuation was different. But, God, he’d messed everything up.
If only he’d told her the truth from the start, they might have found a way past it, a way to move forward. If he’d told her the truth once they were married, even, she would have listened and he could have moved more slowly, helping her come to terms with whatever there was between him and Kat – nothing, from his perspective – before they grew closer on their own terms.
He’d lied to her. He’d lied because he hadn’t wanted to risk upsetting her.
He strode across the room, staring down at Athens unseeing. He hadn’t been back to the island. He couldn’t bring himself to look upon the tree she’d decorated, knowing she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it with him.
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 11
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.
She pushed out of bed, padding over to the window and looking down over the street. It was blanketed in white, save for two fresh tyre tracks that would quickly be covered by the falling snow.
She turned away again, moving downstairs into the kitchen that overlooked the back garden. The woman who cared for the house when Sophia and Bella were away had stocked the fridge the day before – Bella pulled out a blueberry muffin and heated it up a little, then sat down at the table.
Her phone buzzed.
I’d love to feel that.
Her stomach squeezed tight. Pain, love, hurt, grief. They all slashed at her nerves, leaving her an emotional mess. She stared outside, a frown on her face, and then typed,
Believe it or not, I’d love you to as well.
She sent it, her pulse going faster, harder, her body not seeming to understand that a text message wasn’t an invitation to anything more. He was on the other side of the world, anyway. And she thought of his house on the island in Greece, and she was filled with the most intense longing to be back there. But she couldn’t go back, she reminded herself. Everything she’d thought that house represented had been based on a lie.
How are you?
His response was simple - a question. All she had to do was type ‘fine’, and leave it at that. But she wasn’t fine, and she didn’t want to lie to him. She took a bite of the muffin and stood up, pacing towards the kitchen.
She placed a pod into the coffee machine and waited for it to filter through, staring out at the garden.
Before she could type a response, her phone began to ring.
It was him.
She stared at the screen, his name staring back at her, and she balked at the very idea of answering. She let it go to message ban
k. Her stomach kicked. They’d made some kind of Olympian!
Her phone began to ring again and this time, she swiped it to answer. “Vitalo,” his name spilled from her mouth breathlessly.
There was silence for several, long seconds and then, “Agape.” Darling. The word tripped her heart, making it bounce against her ribs. “How are you?”
It wasn’t just a polite inquiry. He asked as though everything he was depended on her answer. He asked as though not knowing would kill him.
“I’m…” what? “I’m okay.” She figured that covered a multitude of feelings.
“Are you?”
She swept her eyes shut, darkness moving around her. His voice was so familiar, she felt like she could almost magic him up into her kitchen. Only he was too far away, and his sins were too many to forgive.
“What do you want?” A soft, whispered question.
“I want to talk.” She heard something outside, the closing of a door. “I need to explain…”
“You’ve explained,” she said, leaning against the bench, needing it for support.
“You were upset that night and I couldn’t say anything that would fix that.”
“And you can now?”
He was silent for a moment, and then, “I was with your mother, like Lorenzo said. But I went to her to explain that whatever fantasy she was harbouring, she had to stop. I went to tell her that I love you, that I never loved her. That it was a stupid game and nothing else. I went to her to say that regardless of how I felt about your father, I would never have been with your mother.”
But it was too hard to hear – it was too hard to process. “She’s my mom,” Bella whispered, dropping her head forward.
“Yes, and she deserves our compassion, but she cannot be brought into this marriage. If it doesn’t work, it is not her fault.”
“No, it’s your fault,” she said, and then wished she hadn’t, because the words had come from a place of hurt rather than truth. “I’m sorry.” Tears clogged her throat. “I don’t mean that.”
This Christmas and Forever: A heartwarming anthology of billionaire holiday romances... Page 41