The weight of the glass felt good in my hands, solid, when everything seemed to be falling apart around me. One of the overhead lights glinted off my wedding band. There had been a time in my life when I would have welcomed an anonymous hookup with a pretty woman to curb the anxiety, but not anymore. I craved the warmth and familiarity of my wife. Only her.
Thinking about Dakota sent a spasm of guilt through my insides. She needed me, and I wasn’t there—again. I shoved a hand through my hair. All I ever wanted was to be her rock, the one she turned to during hard times, the one to shore her up when she was weak. Instead, I was stuck in a foreign airport with an unfamiliar woman at my elbow and the beginnings of a tension headache plaguing my temples.
“I have bad news and okay news,” Xavier announced as he pushed through the lounge doors. Neither of us had slept in twenty-four hours. Wrinkles creased his lavender suit, and his normally smooth hair flopped over his forehead in disarray.
“You’re from the States? Are you—?” Xavier shoved between the woman and my barstool, cutting her off midsentence.
“The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are ‘you’re on the next flight’,” I said to Xavier then nodded to the bartender. “I’ll have another.”
Xavier stared at me. His gaze roved over my distressed hair, loosened tie, and rumpled shirt. “You look like shit.”
“Says the guy who looks like an ice cream cone.” I greeted the new glass of scotch with a painful grimace and gulped down half of it.
“I’m going to overlook that comment because you’re obviously drunk, and you’re under duress.” Xavier ripped the glass from my hands and dumped the contents into the potted tree behind us. “But later, I’m going to demand an apology. While you’ve been getting drunk with—that—” he lifted an eyebrow in direction of my unwelcome companion, “—I’ve been working my ass off.” He grabbed my suit jacket from the empty barstool on my right and folded it over his arm. “Pull yourself together. We need to get moving. Can you stand up? I couldn’t get us a flight out, but we can take the Chunnel to London. You don’t even want to know what I did to get the tickets. One of my London friends has a private plane there, and he’s willing to fly us to Shannon, where we’ve got a connecting flight to Newark.”
“Oh, God. I hate Newark airport,” I groaned.
“Not one word. I’m this close to kicking your spoiled, ungrateful ass.” He held his thumb and forefinger in approximation of an inch in front of my nose. “This close, do you understand me?” He continued to mutter underneath his breath while straightening my collar and tie. “One of these days, you’re going to push me too far, and I’m going to walk out. I don’t care how crazy hot you are. There are limits, do you hear what I’m saying? Limits! And I’ve just about reached mine.”
Chapter 26
SAM
TWO WEEKS later, I awoke to an empty bed and a knot of dread in the pit of my stomach. Outside the open sliding glass doors of the bedroom, ocean waves crashed onto the beach, loud and jarring. Cold wind raised gooseflesh on my arms. I rose to my feet and paused long enough to pull on a pair of boxers before going onto the veranda. Early morning mist hovered over the sand, covered everything with gray, and obscured the distant horizon. Dakota sat in a chair at the edge of our property, her bare feet blue with cold, toes buried in the sand. The open ends of her silk robe fluttered in the breeze.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked. She didn’t stir. I placed a hand on her shoulder. Her bones pressed against my palm. “Come inside. You’ll freeze.” When she didn’t move, I brushed a hand over her tangled brown hair. “Please, baby. Let’s get you in the house.”
Still no response. I found her hand in her lap, entwined my fingers through hers, and pulled her to her feet. I brushed a caress over her cheek and along the curve of her jaw, waiting for her eyes to find mine. She stared across the expanse of water, expression vacant, teeth chattering. Panic twisted my insides. I needed her to look at me. She’d barely spoken to me since we’d arrived the day before. If she wouldn’t talk to me, I had no way to judge her thoughts except through her large, expressive eyes.
Inside the house, I started a bath. Dakota sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. She looked so small, so broken, and I had no idea how to fix her. I could resurrect a failing company from the dead, turn real estate into millions of dollars, but I couldn’t make my wife happy. I knew how difficult marriage could be. This time would be different, I’d promised her. We’d be happy. We’d only been married a year, and I’d already broken my promise.
I kept one eye on her while the water tumbled into the copper tub. I removed my boxers then her robe. She was naked underneath, her skin cold and damp to the touch. I swept her up in my arms and carried her into the bathroom, lowered her carefully into the tub then slid in behind her, my legs at her sides.
Once we were settled, I took a bath sponge from the tray, loaded it with soap, and smoothed it over the length of her arms. A small sigh escaped her. Some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. She leaned back against my chest. I dropped a kiss on the crook of her neck.
“Is the water too hot?” I nuzzled my nose against her earlobe.
“No.” It was the first word she’d spoken in the last twenty-four hours. I tried not to read anything into it—that one word.
“What should we do today?” I continued to scrub her body, admiring the way her smooth skin turned pink beneath my touch. “We could go to the Farmer’s Market in town or walk along the beach.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she replied.
“Okay.” I sucked in a breath and counted to ten in my head. Patience had never been my strong suit. I was used to getting my way in every way. This cat-and-mouse game was wearing down my nerves. But this was Dakota, the love of my life, and she deserved my patience after the hell she’d been through. “We’ll do whatever you want to, but it might help if you got some exercise. That’s why we’re here, remember? To take our minds off—”
She shook her head. When she spoke, anger sharpened her words. “I’m not like you. I can’t just shut off my emotions. I can’t just forget.” The water level heaved over the sides as she rose to her feet then stepped out onto the floor. Her wet footsteps slapped across the tile.
“Jesus, Dakota.” I made an ineffectual grab for her hand, but she eluded me. “Don’t you think I’m hurting? It was my child, too.” My temper surged to the tip of my tongue. I held back hot words of hurt and anger.
“You don’t act like it.” Her fragile hand yanked a towel from the rack.
I stood. The water sloshed over the edge of the tub and puddled at the base. In two strides, I reached her. I gripped her arm and spun her around to face me. Her nostrils quivered as we stared at each other, both of us naked and furious. “How am I supposed to act? Do you want me to cry? Scream? Throw things? Tell me, Dakota, because I have no idea what you want from me.”
A scarlet tide swept up her throat and into her cheeks. “I want you to leave me alone.” She threw her towel. It hit me in the center of the chest and slid to the floor. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” Her words stunned me.
“You knew I didn’t want a baby. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.” The point of her chin quivered. “You knew I missed one of my birth control pills, but you came at me anyway.”
“Jesus.” I gripped the bridge of my nose with thumb and forefinger. “You make it sound like I forced you or something.” I remembered the incident with total clarity. We’d gone at each other like sex-starved maniacs, heedless of the missing pill, sans condom. It had been the hottest sex in my life. “As I recall, you were the one who said to go ahead. You wanted it just as much as me.”
The furrow between her brows deepened, and her lips pressed into a tight, white line. “Well, I didn’t. Maybe if you’d thought a little more about my feelings and a little less about your dick, you would have noticed.” She pivoted on her heel and stalked into the bedroom. The door sla
mmed shut between us, sending a shudder throughout the entire house.
“Don’t walk away from me. We need to talk about this.” I hammered a fist against the door. Blood pounded between my temples as my fury grew. I’d been calm, patient, and understanding for the better part of the last two weeks, hiding my pain to ease hers. Now she had the nerve to suggest I didn’t care. “You can’t shut me out of my bedroom. I’ll break down this fucking door, Dakota.”
The door opened. My suitcase flew into the hall. I sidestepped as my shoes arched through the air and slammed against the wall behind me.
“Oh, so now it’s your bedroom? I thought it was mine, too.” She paused at the threshold long enough to afford a glimpse of her face, flushed with anger. “I suppose that was just another one of your lies.”
“Oh my God,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. “What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you.” She tried to shut the door. I blocked it by wedging my body between the door and the jamb. “You know what I meant.”
“I know exactly what you meant. You’re always throwing it in my face.” Her hands waved in the air as she spoke. “It’s always about money with you. It’s all you care about. You’re just like your dad.”
“You know goddamn well that’s not true.” Rage thickened the walls of my throat. I reeled back from the verbal blow. The door closed between us. I shoved a hand through my hair and drew in a couple of long, slow breaths to calm my thundering pulse. We’d had a lot of fights, but never anything like this. I had to get away before one of us—probably me—did or said something we’d both regret. I rapped lightly on the door. No answer. “I’m going out.”
“Fine.” The clarity of her voice suggested she was leaning against the opposite side of the door. “Don’t hurry back on my account.”
Damn. This was so not how I’d imagined the weekend. I found a pair of shorts and a shirt in my suitcase, pulled them on, and grabbed the car keys. I spent the rest of the day at the nearest beach bar, drinking scotch. When the sun lowered in the sky, the bartender called a cab and sent me home. I slept on the couch that night. The next morning, we packed our bags and went home.
Chapter 27
SAM
AFTER THE painful car ride, we avoided each other. I slept in the guest room and went to the office early, before Dakota awoke. The painful pressure in my chest eased when I slid behind the familiar desk. Since the miscarriage, the office had become my sanctuary, a safe haven from the tension plaguing my marriage. I turned the leather chair around to face the window at my back and gazed over the city. Pink and orange streaks crossed the morning sky and gilded the twin skyscrapers of Seaforth Towers on the opposite side of the city. An ominous shiver rippled down my back.
You’re just like your father. Dakota’s insult stabbed my guts. Her words summed up my greatest fear. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to swallow past the thickness in my throat. My father was a cold, manipulative bastard who’d made both our lives hell for over a decade. The reasonable side of my psyche tried to rationalize her behavior. She was hurting inside. I just needed to be patient with her. I huffed out a heavy sigh. I could do this. She required time. I loved her enough to give it to her.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” The voice of Beckett interrupted my thoughts from my office door. “What brings you here so early? Plotting your next move for world domination?”
The leather chair creaked as I swiveled to face him. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I wanted to get a jump on the contracts for the Shiloh acquisition. And we’ve got a partners’ meeting this afternoon.” He eased his tall frame onto the leather sofa and thumbed through an issue of Sports Illustrated. One of his black eyebrows arched. “Or did you forget?”
“No.” But I had forgotten. With all the turmoil surrounding Dakota, partner meetings were the least of my worries. And I had planned to be out of town. But that was before.
“Liar.” Beckett dropped the magazine and squared his shoulders to face me. “Wanna tell me what’s going on? I thought you and Dakota were spending time at the beach.”
“Change of plans.” I twirled a pen between my fingers, concentrating on the weight of the instrument—anything to avoid looking him in the eyes.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Why would you say that?” I turned my attention to the computer screen and scrolled through the endless list of incoming emails, unseeing.
“You’re in the office when you’re supposed to be on vacation. Dakota wouldn’t stand for that unless you two were having a spat.” His dark eyes bored into me. Damn his lawyer ass. He was way too observant.
For a second, I considered lying, but Beckett knew me too well. He’d see through the charade in a heartbeat. My chest tightened. “Dakota’s having a hard time getting over the—” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word miscarriage, so I bumbled on. “She says it’s my fault.”
“Wait right there.” Beckett raised a hand to cut me off. “First of all, it’s not your fault, so don’t even start down that line of thought. And second, that’s just bullshit.”
“I know.” The chair groaned under my weight as I leaned back. “Try telling her that.” The left corner of Beckett’s mouth curled up. “You think that’s funny?”
“No. Not at all.” He shook his head. “I’m commiserating. Your sister has been putting me through the paces. It seems I’m an inconsiderate bastard because I left the toilet seat up, and she fell in last night.” He scratched his clean-shaved chin. “And yesterday I forgot to pick up diapers on the way home from work.”
Despite my misery, a chuckle rumbled through my chest. Venetia could be high-strung and difficult on the best of days. I had no doubt she kept Beckett on his toes. “You won’t get any sympathy here. You knew what you were getting into with her. I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
“Yeah.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped it in a casual shrug, but the smile on his lips and the gleam in his eyes spoke volumes about his true feelings.
“Maybe next time you’ll listen,” I said.
“He certainly doesn’t listen to me.” The door opened, and Venetia breezed into the office. Black designer sunglasses perched on top of her head, and the strap of her briefcase hung on her shoulder. She scowled at Beckett and then focused her blue eyes on me. “You know what your problem is? You’re suffering from a breakdown in communication.” She braced a hand on her hip. “The two of you are never together. Even the best relationships will fail without regular communication. That’s why rock stars and celebrities get divorced so often. You need to put your marriage first and business second. Are you listening to me?”
My attention had flickered to Beckett for the briefest instant but snapped back to Venetia at her reprimand. He bit his lower lip and scowled in an effort to hold back his laughter.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she said to Beckett. His features straightened but his eyes continued to twinkle. “You could take a lesson yourself.”
“You’re at the top of my list, baby, and you know it.” He lifted his large hands.
“I know.” They smiled at each other. After all of Venetia’s heartache, I found consolation in her happiness.
“Mr. Seaforth, your appointment is here.” Mrs. Caldwell’s voice cut across the intercom. “Shall I send her in?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Beckett said and patted my shoulder.
“Call your wife,” Venetia said. Beckett rested an arm around her waist and gave her a quick peck on the forehead as they left.
I wanted to call Dakota, but I had no idea what to say. We’d drifted so far apart over the past few weeks that I wasn’t sure we could ever find our way back to each other. She blamed me for everything that had happened, and I agreed. I’d already canceled all my out-of-town plans for the next month. Takashima would just have to get over it. I couldn’t be his beck-and-call boy any longer. Dakota meant more to me than all the success in the world. If
I’d ever led her to believe otherwise, I had only myself to blame.
Chapter 28
DAKOTA
AFTER SAM left for work that morning, I sagged against the bedroom door in relief. I couldn’t take it anymore—his patience, his understanding, his pity. I clasped my hands over my belly. Emptiness echoed through my womb. We’d lost our child, the one I hadn’t wanted at first, the one he’d desperately desired.
How did he do it? How did he continue to live like nothing had happened, while I felt like the world had collapsed upon itself, taking me with it? Though I didn’t want to admit it, he was right about one thing—I needed to get my ass out of the condo. Sitting around stewing about things I couldn’t change would never resolve the issues.
Silence thickened the air of the room. With each passing minute, the walls moved closer. For the last few weeks, I’d been wallowing in self-loathing, letting grief consume me. Even when Sam and I had divorced, I’d never stopped living. I sat on the edge of the bed, cradled my head in my hands, and fought to pull myself together. This wasn’t going to do. My contemplation ended when the phone rang.
“Hey, Dakota. It’s Muriel.”
“Hi.”
“So how are you feeling?” she asked. I was so tired of people asking how I felt, like I’d been sick or had the measles. My body felt fine; it was my heart that had been damaged.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, more harshly than I intended. I drew in a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. “I’m sorry. Thank you for asking. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. My emotions are all over the place these days. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Wondering when you’re coming back to work.” Something in the tone of her voice flagged a warning in my head.
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it. Why?”
“I think you need to get back here. Preferably right away.”
Pretty Broken Promises: An Unconventional Love Story Page 13
