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Theo suddenly felt like he was on fire. He yanked off his tailored jacket, dropping it to the floor. Dripping with sweat, he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.
“Emmie doesn’t want me,” he whispered. “I’m not good enough for her. Or our baby.”
“If she thought that, why would she name the baby after you?”
He froze. “What?”
Digging into her purse, Sofia produced an invitation. “See?”
He snatched it up. Decorated with baby animals, the invitation listed the party details, along with the baby’s weight, length, and name.Theodore Karl Katrakis.Emmie had named their child after him.
He knew his wife loved their baby more than her own life. Why would she name her adored son after the man who’d deserted them?
Was it possible she still loved him? Believed in him? In spite of everything he’d done to drive her away?
Love means putting the other person ahead of yourself.
Theo looked up with an intake of breath. His heart was racing like a motor as he turned to the divorce papers sitting beneath the cold sparkle of Emmie’s diamond ring.
Was it too late?
Looking around his elegant cream-colored office with the oil paintings, he realized he’d been lying to himself about what he was doing in Paris.
All this time, he’d told himself he was pursuing his big dream, building a real-estate development blending mixed-use retail, housing and green space that would be his legacy.
The truth was the real thing he’d been building in Paris was a wall around his heart. Aroundhimself.
The only way to be free was to let himself feel.
Forget being cold. Forget being strong.
The only way to live was to let himself love her.
Theo looked up with a gasp.
“I have to go,” he told his sister, and grabbing the gift, he ran for the door.
The autumn evening was fresh and clear and cool. The sprawling terrace of the Ferraros’ beachside mansion, with a view of the Atlantic, had been elaborately decorated for a baby shower, with colorful lights hanging across the trees with yellow and orange leaves, heaters between the tables to keep them warm.
Emmie had dressed up a bit for the occasion, beyond her usual T-shirt and jeans, wearing a soft pink dress that was comfortable and flattering to her still-curvaceous figure. Her hair was in a casual ponytail, but at least it was freshly washed. Her only makeup was tinted lip balm. She’d never win any beauty contests but she didn’t need to. She didn’t need to prove anything to anybody. She was Bear’s mother, and Karl’s daughter, and good with numbers, and a hard worker. She baked really goodfikapastries, too, from her mother’s recipes. Being on her own for the last two months, she’d had two choices: either collapse in despair or decide she was okay, just as she was. She had a baby to look after. So she’d decided to be okay.
“Thank you all for coming,” Honora said as Nico left to put their yawning toddler Kara and baby Ivy to bed, and their household staff cleared the dinner plates from the tables. “Now—who’s ready for some shower games?”
Honora was in her element as hostess. Now visibly pregnant, she’d welcomed them with her husband and young children, Honora’s grandfather and his wife. Emmie’s father was there, of course, and all four of her brothers, even Daniel, who’d flown all the way from Tulsa. Sam had also brought his girlfriend, Imani. Things were getting serious there.
Surrounded by her friends and family, Emmie had forced herself to smile all night till her cheeks hurt, pretending she was enjoying herself. She wanted to.
She’d told Honora she wanted men allowed at her baby shower, which was traditionally a female affair, because she wanted her father and brothers there. Secretly, Emmie had hoped for a miracle. But by the time they’d mailed out the invitations last month, she’d realized how ridiculous her hope was, and she’d thrown Theo’s invitation in the trash.
She needed to stophoping. Longing for him, waiting for him, crying for him. Hope was poisoning her. She’d always love Theo. But he didn’t love her. He didn’t want to be married to her. He’d made that clear.
She had to let him go.
So two days ago, she’d filled out the divorce papers. She wondered how he’d reacted when he’d gotten them yesterday in Paris. She assumed he’d been relieved. She’d given him exactly what he wanted.
As October twilight fell across the ocean, Emmie surreptitiously wiped her eyes. She had to believe there was a better life waiting for her. She couldn’t settle for unhappiness. She’d take inspiration from Harold Eklund, the elderly plumber she’d nearly married last June. She’d seen him in Queens last week, and he’d told her he was engaged to Luly Olsen, of the outrageous hats.
“I thought with my wife gone, I could never be happy again,” he told Emmie. “I was going to settle for second best. But now, Luly and I...we’re so in love. I guess it’s never too late.”
