“Lila, are you all right?” he asked in return.
Her eyes opened and she gave him a sad smile as she shook her head.
“Whatever your child feels, and that extends to whatever your grandchild feels, you feel it too. Happiness or despair, you feel it right along with them.” Jack’s jaw got hard and Lila came forward, put her hand to his arm and continued in a quiet voice, “I know that’s difficult for you to hear right now but I’ve every faith you’ll learn this yourself, my man, I know you will…” she paused and whispered, “someday.”
Jack nodded again. He didn’t have it in him to answer mainly because his chest had tightened along with his gut and he was finding it more important at that juncture to focus on breathing.
Lila got closer and her voice dipped quieter when she advised, “Don’t let her pull away.”
“I won’t,” Jack vowed and it was, indeed, a vow. His words were low and they vibrated.
Upon hearing them, he saw Lila’s eyes register surprise then they warmed. The sad smile disappeared, a hopeful one took its place and she squeezed his arm.
Later, Rachel came in carrying groceries and Jack went out to retrieve the rest.
Later still, Belle woke and sat in the kitchen with Jack while Rachel and Lila made dinner and even helped do the dishes when they were finished eating.
Shortly after, Lila and Rachel made their way to the door.
Belle followed them to the landing, her expression confused.
“Where are you going?” she asked her mother.
“Home, to The Point,” Rachel answered, giving Belle a kiss on the cheek.
“But, I thought –” Belle started.
“I’ve got painting to do and we’ve got guests, Cassandra and Angus,” Lila reminded Belle, moving in for her own kiss.
“But, they aren’t guests you hired –” Belle began again after she received her kiss.
“We’ll come and visit tomorrow,” Rachel assured her daughter.
“No, tomorrow’s Sunday. Sundays are Jack’s days,” Lila, to Jack’s surprise (and satisfaction) told Rachel.
Belle’s body jerked but Rachel said, “Oh, right.” She looked at her daughter and went on, “We’ll be back on Monday.”
“But, my car,” Belle said. “I’ll need –”
Jack slid his hand along her waist, pulling her to his side and interrupted her, “If you need to go anywhere, love, I’ll take you.”
She looked up at him, her face wan, the bandage still at her temple, dark circles under her eyes even though she’d slept a good deal the past few days and she mumbled, “But –”
His fingers gave her a squeeze at her waist and he promised softly, “Whatever you need, poppet, I’ll get it for you.”
He saw tears fill her eyes, she swallowed, looked to his shoulder, his ear and then away.
Then she said, “Okay,” but she didn’t mean it.
They spent a quiet night in front of the television until she fell asleep, her head against his bicep which she was using for a pillow.
He took her to bed and woke with her already awake in front of him.
His arm got tight and her body grew solid.
“Belle,” he whispered into her bent neck.
“You should go,” she said back.
It was then his body grew solid.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t want you here,” she told him, her voice quiet and remote, her words felt like acid injected straight into a vein.
He ignored the pain and replied, “Sorry, my love, I’m willing to give you just about anything you want but I’m afraid that’s something I can’t give you.”
“There’s no reason anymore for you to be here,” she went on to explain, her voice still quiet, her head tipped down, her body remained tight.
Her words slashed through his gut and he pulled her vaguely resisting body closer before he asked, “Why would you say that?”
“Because you were with me for the baby and now there’s no baby, so –”
She stopped speaking when his arm clenched even tighter.
“I wasn’t with you for the baby,” he told her, his voice as tight as his arm, his temper rising but he controlled it, barely.
“It’s okay, Jack. I’ll be okay eventually. You can just –”
“Belle –” His voice was a warning.
“Seriously,” she said firmly.
“Seriously,” his reply was even more firm, “I wasn’t with you for the baby. I was with you for you.”
“I can’t believe –”
He cut her off even more firmly, demanding, “Believe.”
“Jack –”
He interrupted her again, “This is the first and last time we’re having this ludicrous discussion.”
“Jack –”
“Belle, don’t say another word.”
“But Jack –”
His arm shook her body gently. “Belle, not another fucking word.”
She grew silent, her body stayed taut.
For his part, Jack used those moments to control his anger and seek patience which he had the feeling (and he was right) he would need a lot of in the coming weeks.
Finally, she said quietly, “The dogs need to be walked.”
Thinking that walking the dogs would be a good opportunity to control his temper and find his patience, he agreed, “I’ll see to it.”
Then he kissed her shoulder and left her in bed.
They spent a tense Sunday together.
Then they spent a tense Monday together, Jack waking after Belle, holding her tight body close for long moments before she told him the dogs needed to be walked. He kissed her shoulder, left her in bed and walked the dogs. Then he worked in her living room while she puttered around her house.
This went on.
Eventually he had to go to London and she had to go back to the shop.
As the days slid by, she remained distant and on edge and Jack resolutely remained close, calling her during the day, the conversations short, one-sided (his side) and stilted and coming home to her cottage at night. She’d make him dinner then he’d work, she’d listen to music on her MP3 or they’d watch television. All of this done in silence.
They rarely talked but as he was allowing her emotional distance, he refused to allow her physical distance.
He nestled her close when they were both on her couch. He held her when they were in bed. He took her hand in his when he walked her to her store in the morning or when he was able to collect her in the evenings. And he took every opportunity he could to pull her into his arms and brush his lips against hers.
Often, when this happened, he’d see her wet her lips anxiously or tears would fill her eyes but she said nothing and didn’t avoid his touch nor did she respond to it.
Rachel, Lila, Joy and Yasmin were never far but they also gave Jack and Belle the space they needed to move forward and heal.
Unfortunately, neither of those things was happening.
Jack had decided early after the accident he would wait for his chance to break through.
She’d lost a child and he had no idea, not carrying it, how that felt.
Jack, too, lamented the loss of their child. He was looking forward to sharing that with Belle, looking forward to every aspect of it with great anticipation. Anytime he thought of their loss, remembered his mother’s voice on the phone when she called to tell him what happened, Lila greeting him at the entrance to the hospital, whispering to him that Nathan was gone, seeing Belle lying bandaged and asleep in her hospital bed, his chest would get tight.
But whatever he felt was simply emotional. It had not been tied to the physical. He’d not had a child in distress die inside him.
And he couldn’t imagine her pain.
Therefore he was willing to let her have her head.
However, he thought Belle would give him an opening, something, anything.
She was not doing that.
And, even though it had be
en only three and a half weeks (albeit a very long three and a half weeks), Jack was losing patience.
It was Sunday, their day, and it was bloody well time for him to break through.
His face nuzzled the hair at the back of her neck and he whispered, “Belle.”
“You need to walk the dogs,” was her reply.
“In a minute.”
Her stiff body got tighter at his unprecedented response. Every day for three weeks when she’d done that, Jack had left her and walked the dogs.
She hesitated a moment before she said, “It’s not nice to make them wait.”
“We’ll walk them in a minute.”
Her tight body grew rock solid.
Then she whispered, “We?”
Now was the time for him to begin to break through.
Therefore, Jack informed her, “You need to start taking your walks again.”
“I –”
Jack interrupted her and went on, “You also need to start eating more.”
“But I’m not hun –”
“You also need to start designing,” Jack cut her off again. “Dirk tells me that you haven’t begun producing the winter collection. It’s September, you need winter stock.”
“But, I –”
“And we need to go back to The Point.” When her body grew so solid it felt like she’d shatter if she moved, Jack shifted and buried his face in her neck. “I love your cottage, poppet, and I understand why you needed to be here but it’s not our home.”
“Home?” she breathed.
“Home,” he replied and his mouth moved to her ear. “It’s time to go home, my love.”
“But, Jack,” she whispered, “this is my home.”
He kissed the skin behind her ear and her solid body gave a delicate shiver.
His frame absorbed it gladly and he felt like shouting in triumph.
Finally, for the first time in weeks, she gave him something.
Instead of shouting his triumph, he murmured, “Your home became The Point when Elaine moved your things into our room.”
She started to shift but he held her firm and moved over her to kiss the hinge of her jaw.
“But –” she began.
“You told me I’d have to explain what it meant when you agreed to moving your things to my room. Now, I’m explaining.”
“But –”
“It’s time to go home.”
“But –”
Jack was unrelenting. “This evening, we’re moving home.”
He shifted away, let her drop to her back but when she did, her eyes went to his shoulder then his throat then his ear.
Then she said, “Jack –”
He cut her off again by brushing his lips against her own before he whispered, “Now, poppet, we can make love or we can walk the dogs. Your choice.”
He watched close up as her eyes finally met his and she blinked.
“Make love?” she breathed.
Jack grinned and teased, “Is that your choice?”
Her eyes grew wide and her body, which had relaxed, went stiff again before she retorted sharply, “No!”
Undeterred, he nevertheless relented and, still grinning, he announced, “Then we’ll walk the dogs and then come back and make love.”
Her hands came to his chest and she gave a useless shove for Jack wasn’t going anywhere.
“We can’t make love,” she snapped.
“All right,” he replied and bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “If you’re not ready for that then I’ll make you come with my mouth and, after, if you feel up to it, you can do the same for me.”
She gave him another ineffective shove and demanded, “Get off!”
He ignored her and mused against her neck, nudging her earlobe with his nose, “Or maybe we can do it at the same time.”
Her hands stilled and she whispered, “Oh my goodness gracious.”
There it was. Another something.
Her words made him smile. His hand drifted from her waist upward and stopped by her breast, his thumb stroking the side.
She liked that. She’d always liked that. Very much. From their first night together he discovered how much she liked it.
She liked it no less now because her body melted under his and her hands slid up his chest so her fingers could curl on his shoulders.
Thank God, he was getting somewhere.
Not about to lose his advantage, his mouth slid over her jaw to touch hers.
Speaking against her lips, he stated his preference, “As much as I like the idea of having the taste of you in my mouth while your mouth is wrapped around my cock, I might get distracted and not hear those sweet, sexy noises you make. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather make you come when I can concentrate and listen to you and you can return the favour later.”
Her eyes grew wide then they went languid.
Watching it, Jack realised that yes, thank God, he was definitely getting somewhere.
“You’ve never spoken to me like that,” she murmured, the fingers of one hand curling around his neck, her body had grown soft but it was moving restlessly under his.
Oh yes, definitely getting somewhere.
“No,” he replied and touched her mouth in a brief kiss, “I haven’t.”
He didn’t have to ask if she liked it, he knew from her response she did.
“Jack –” she whispered, the hand at his neck moved, her fingers gliding in his hair, her actions belying her next words. “I’m not ready for this.”
He touched her lips in another brief kiss before he said, “All right, my love, I’ll be sure to spend a lot of time getting you ready.”
“Holy heck,” she breathed but her fingers put pressure against his head, her head lifted and she touched her mouth against his.
When she did, he growled his triumph into her already opened mouth, slanted his head and slid his tongue inside.
She immediately emitted one of her sexy, little noises and his already hard cock jerked at the sound.
Then Baron and Gretl moved, their tags jangling and they both barked.
This was right before they heard a banging at the door.
Jack’s head came up and twisted as the banging continued, loud and unabated.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
Belle’s body had grown tense underneath him and feeling it, Jack decided he was going to wring the neck of whoever was at the door.
“Would a reporter bang on the door like that?” Belle whispered, her voice filled with anxiety.
“No,” Jack answered as the banging stopped then, within seconds, continued and he stifled a frustrated growl.
“Mom and Gram wouldn’t bang like that,” Belle told him as, with regret, he moved away from her warm body and their warm bed.
“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack replied though he figured they would but not on Sunday.
He exited the bed and Baron and Gretl started circling to the bedroom door and back to Jack.
He heard Belle’s movement, looked back and saw her sitting up and throwing the covers back.
Jack stopped in his progress to the door and ordered, “Don’t move.”
Belle halted her legs in mid-swing and asked, “What?”
“Don’t leave that bed.”
“But –”
“Belle.”
She stared at him a moment then her legs settled and she whispered, “Okay.”
“I won’t be a minute,” Jack told her and watched her nod.
Then Jack, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing only pyjama bottoms, stalked through the house, down the steps to the front door and threw it open.
A tall, sandy blond-haired man with intensely blue eyes stood outside wearing a beat up leather bomber jacket, a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt stating his fondness for The Rolling Stones.
He had an even more beat up leather satchel over his shoulder and, alarmingly, a large, even more beat up leather bag sitting on the stoop by his foot.
His
eyes bugged out when they fell on Jack’s face.
“Jesus, you’re the famous, rich dude,” he declared.
Jack scowled at him. “I am indeed. And you are?”
The man’s face split into an easy, wide, white smile and his hand shot forward toward Jack before he said, “Jenson Abbot, Belle’s Daddy.”
Jack stared at his hand, vaguely disappointed that he couldn’t commit homicide against Belle’s father and then he took his hand and shook it, introducing himself by saying, “Jack Bennett.”
“Dude, I know,” Jensen Abbot replied. “Christ, photos of you and Belle are everywhere.” He dropped Jack’s hand and went on, “You two look sweet together. Sah… weet. Never thought my precious girl would find someone to complement her, because, hey man, I don’t have to tell you, she’s beautiful but, seriously, dude, you… are… it.”
Jack had no reply to that however he did get the impression that perhaps Belle hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with how wild her father was and she had painted a verbal picture of Jensen Abbot that was rather wild.
“I came to surprise my baby girl and see how she’s gettin’ on with all this shit so, um, you think you could let me in because I kinda wanna see my daughter and I seriously need a caffeine fix. You know what I’m saying?”
“Of course,” Jack murmured, stepped back and motioned to Baron and Gretl to go up the stairs which they did.
Jensen didn’t delay. He picked up his bag and barrelled up the steps after the dogs.
While he did so, he shouted, “Bellerina, get your ass out here and give your ol’ Dad a hug!”
Jack had made it to the landing in time to see Belle come running out of the bedroom wearing her nightgown. Then he watched as she threw herself in her father’s arms.
“Dad!” she shouted happily as Jensen swung her around. Jack thought there was one thing good about Jensen interrupting Jack’s determination to break through during his Sunday and that was hearing Belle sounding happy for the first time in weeks.
Jack watched as Jensen hugged his daughter while the dogs danced around them and Gretl gave an excited woof.
Jensen pushed Belle a bit away and his gaze went immediately to the significantly faded bruise and stitched cut at her temple.
Then he exploded.
“Holy shit! What the fuck!”
Then, for some strange reason, his eyes slashed to Jack and, Jack noted, they did this accusingly.
Lucky Stars Page 33
