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“You will never shut me out again. You will never leave me again. Is that clear?”
Thank heavens for Murphy. I make a mental note to thank him for protecting her from her own flesh and blood.
“Answer me, Arabella.” Lifting her chin so her sight squares on mine, I squeeze her chin hard enough that she grits her teeth and winces. “Do you understand?”
She nods.
“Speak. I want your verbal acquiescence.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“I understand, Christopher.”
“Good, because you are my winning piece.”
“To you maybe.”
“There’s no if, but, or maybe about it. You are the most magnificent thing I’ve ever known. The most precious thing I will ever own. And nothing will ever change that.”
“How can you say that when I failed to—”
“Don’t you dare.” My rebuke comes sharper than I intend, her gasp and recoil evidence of it sinking in. But I know there’s only one way to show her how amazing she is. What an incredible thing she did with our daughter.
Standing, I grab my suit jacket and find my phone in one of the inside pockets. I close every app open, except for the photos. Tapping on it, I swallow down the nervous lump in my throat. I have no idea how she’s going to take this; a part of me wants to hide it forever to spare her the pain of truly knowing what we lost, but unless she realises it, sees our little girl for herself…she will never understand how fucking amazing she is for making and carrying something so perfect. So special.
Until she sees our baby, she will never be truly able to grieve our loss.
Taking in every detail of the photo on my screen, I pour some more hot water into the bath.
Handing her the phone, I take a step back. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to leave her, but she’s going to need space for all the feelings that are about to hit her.
The loud sobbing gasp that fills the room echoes through me, burning me from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. Every organ. Every bone. Every cell. Every molecule. Scorched.
She doesn’t look at it for long before she slams the phone to her chest, tears rivering down her face, her body wracking with soul-shattering sobs.
Barely able to breathe, she hunches over her knees. Silent keening agony cloys the air. It doesn’t matter how much I want to hold her. How badly I want to comfort her. None of that is what she needs right now.
Swallowing down my own tears, I walk out of the bathroom, bringing the door with me until it’s ajar and all I can hear are her choking sobs increasing, becoming louder and louder until they threaten to echo through the entire suite.
Chapter 25
Christopher
It takes me longer than normal to gather myself. I go about getting a fresh shirt for Arabella and leaving it on the bed. The thought to ask Cassie to drop some fresh clothes comes belatedly, and in a way, I like that she doesn’t have anything to wear. It means that she can’t run. And after this, there’s a possibility that she won’t just run, she’ll ask me for those papers I burned last night.
You should’ve shown it to her earlier.
It should’ve been the first thing you did.
But protecting Arabella has been and always will be my number one priority. It’s the reason why I shoulder all the blame for that night. I should’ve protected her. Not the other way around.
Checking the room, I take a deep breath as I close my hand around the intricate brass knob. A spectrum of emotions roils inside me, making it impossible for me to get a hold of myself.
Get it together, dickhead!
Game face on.
