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His mother.
His sister.
And every grief was a different burden to be carried, nurtured and honoured. But what he’d lost in Chloe was so much worse, because it was all completely his fault.
He had betrayed her trust. The trust he’d begged her to give him. The trust he’d promised, again and again, that he deserved.
He thought of William’s face, at the moment of supposed triumph. And he felt nothing. Not a successful flush of vengeance, nor a heady rush of relief.
And now?
A month later? He felt only shame and despair, that he’d allowed himself to hurt her. That he’d been so utterly cruel.
He stared at the view of Manhattan, and felt the same burning pain in his gut. He didn’t know if it was heartbreak or hunger. He hadn’t been very good at keeping up the usual day to day business of life since leaving Chloe. It was late now, and he wasn’t sure he’d eaten breakfast, lunch or dinner.
He sipped his scotch. How many had he had?
His phone buzzed on the table, and he ignored it. His laptop was open, and the contracts he was reading were demanding his attention. But still, he stared at the view, looking south, thinking of Chloe.
True to his word, he’d stayed away from her. Even when he’d wanted to have his driver take him to her apartment, to see what she was doing, to see if she still felt such a red-hot sense of betrayal, he’d stayed strong. Because she needed and deserved that of him.
The phone buzzed again, reminding him that a text message was waiting for him.
He put his coffee aside and reached for the phone. It’s Chloe. You told me to contact you if I ever needed something. And I do.
For the first time in a month, his heart did more than groan. It thumped hard and fast in his chest, then quickened. He stared at the screen, almost unable to believe that she had messaged him.
It was the chance he’d longed for. The cracking open of a door. His fingers moved swiftly over the screen. Name it. Anything.
There was a long pause. Long enough for Hendrix to wonder if he’d scared her off. After all, it could have been something as simple as a legal query or financial help. He almost groaned with impatience when she didn’t answer.
Can I meet you at your office tomorrow morning?
He frowned and looked at his watch. It was past midnight. Yes. What time?
Another long delay. First thing.
He put the phone down with a small groan. He was desperate to see her, and the several intervening hours were not things he looked upon kindly.
By the time dawn cracked over the city, he’d grabbed a few fitful hours of sleep on the sofa, and that was all. But he was alive and energized for the first time since walking away from Chloe. He dressed in a charcoal grey suit, and then went to his office.
To wait.
Impatiently.
It was a few minutes before nine o’clock when Maria buzzed through to him. “Miss Chloe Jacobs is here to see you, sir.”
Jacobs. His chest heaved. She was no longer Mrs. Chloe Ansell-Johns.
He stood, his expression set, his face guarded as he waited for the axe to fall, or the sun to shine.
She stepped into his office, and she was magnificent. Everything ceased to move as he saw only Chloe. Her sweet face, her rose bud lips, her enormous eyes, her petite frame in a black trench coat and tight black jeans. Leather boots came to her knees, and her bag was tucked beneath one arm.
Only the fact that she was nervous allowed him to move.
He stepped out from behind his desk, doing everything in his power to stop from running towards her.
His smile was polite, but withdrawn, and Chloe wondered if he’d already met someone else. Her worst fear had been the ease with which he would replace her. And she knew he must have, surely.
