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The sun started to lower behind Manhattan’s skyscrapers, and she grew increasingly worried. Had he been in an accident? Was he hurt, dying, his car smashed up on the I-95 freeway?
When the baby slept, she called his phone.
There was no answer. She left a message, then another.
Finally, she phoned Honora, her father, and her brothers, to tell them her baby news. Honora was elated and promised to come at once. Her father and brothers, busy with a big emergency plumbing job, shouted with joy. They promised to come in the morning.
She checked the news anxiously, but there was no mention of a massive pileup on the highway. She left Theo more messages. She received her dinner delivered on a tray and was thinking about calling the police when Honora appeared in the door with her oldest child.
As Emmie’s best friend oohed and aahed over Emmie’s new baby, Honora’s three-year-old, Kara, was less impressed.
“I already have one,” the little girl archly informed Emmie, as if to warn her against trying to pawn off the baby on Kara’s family. Emmie laughed, but it was strained in her growing anxiety. Where was Theo? Why wasn’t he here?
“Adorable.” Honora sat on the edge of the bed, glowing but still slender, just recently pregnant herself with her third child. “What are you going to name him? Did you decide?”
“We haven’t had a chance...” For all his determination to marry her and secure his heir, Theo never seemed comfortable talking about their baby’s future. When Emmie had suggested possible names, he’d always said there was no rush, then changed the subject.
“Really? After two long months of marriage?” Honora said teasingly, then looked around the hospital room. “Where is Theo, anyway? Did he sneak off for some personal time with his laptop? Off making a super-important phone call?”
Licking her cracked lips, Emmie said slowly, “I... I don’t know.”
Her friend frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He was supposed to follow my ambulance in his car. But I haven’t...” She covered her eyes with her hand, overwhelmed. “That was hours ago. He’s not answering his phone. I’m scared he was in an accident.”
“Oh, Emmie,” Honora said softly. She patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.” She gave a rueful laugh. “If you only knew half of what Nico put me through back in the day...” Whipping out her phone, she placed a call. “Hey, babe,” she said cheerfully. “Can you do me a favor?”
Theo was in hell.
From the moment they’d left Paris, he’d felt a rising sense of dread making his body tense and belly churn for reasons he didn’t understand.
After all, he’d won the Harcourt prize, just as he’d hoped. Pierre Harcourt had accepted his final bid, and Celine had even congratulated him with kind words, “The best man won,” before rushing out of the boardroom to meet up with her new boyfriend.
Assuming the legal paperwork went smoothly, Theo expected to break ground soon. If everything went according to schedule, his new Paris development—a gorgeous mix of retail, office and housing surrounded by dramatic, environmentally friendly gardens—would be finished in two years. It was thrilling.
And yet he’d left it all behind. Abandoned the project at the starting gate. For Emmie.
He’d promised his wife they could live in Manhattan. It was the least he could do. A consolation prize he could give her, he thought bitterly, in lieu of loving her.
Emmie and his son deserved better.
“I’m in love with you, Theo.”
Remembering her luminous face as she’d spoken those words still made him feel sick inside.
How long would it be before Emmie realized that Theo, with his cold heart, wasn’t good enough for her? Before his son realized it, too?
He’d sent her to the hospital alone. Because he was scared. Because he couldn’t bear to see her pain. If that didn’t make her love evaporate, nothing would.
He swallowed hard. The truth was, all he could offer anyone was wealth and a job in real-estate development—neither of which Emmie cared about. He’d offered her palaces and gold, when what she wanted, what sheneeded, was his love...
Standing in the grass, Theo leaned his head against the fence, feeling the hard surface against his clammy forehead. Exhaling, he lifted his gaze and looked out at Manhattan’s skyline across the Hudson. As sunset fell behind him, the last red rays shimmered over the gleaming steel and glass skyscrapers across the dark river.
When Emmie had gone into labor on the plane halfway over the Atlantic—too late to return to Paris—he’d wanted to flee, to cover his eyes and run. But there was no escaping a plane, not unless one wanted to jump out at twenty thousand feet. Seeing his wife’s pain, he’d been overwhelmed with panic and fear. What if he lost Emmie? What if they lost their baby? It would be his fault, for keeping them in Paris so long. Theo had paced in agony, even as he’d tried to look strong and reassuring. But he’d never felt so useless, so helpless, not since—
Not since—
Was Emmie still in labor? Had his son already been born?
