Beyond Ordinary Love_A Journey's End Billionaire Romance

by Ann Christopher

  “You told me you didn’t want children.” A tear sparkled in her eye before she ruthlessly wiped it away. “And now, suddenly, you do?”

  A second dizzying wave of understanding hit him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

  “I didn’t want children.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t apologize for that any more than I apologize for being with a lot of women before I met you. But now we’re together and I’m allowed to change my mind.”

  She made a scoffing noise. “You don’t have to say that—”

  So much for calming down.

  “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t say!” he roared, his accent getting thicker with each syllable. “Do you actually believe that I needed to personally stay here this whole time just to manage some merger? Is that what you think? Do you think it’s been easy for me to keep my feelings quiet? Don’t you think I’m tired of being afraid you’ll run away if I keep telling you how much you mean to me?”

  “How much I mean to you?” She laughed bitterly. “I mean so much to you that you haven’t said one word to me about the future of our relationship once you leave tomorrow.”

  “Because you hold me back! Because you say we need to go slow! Because you shrink away from me every time I tell you I’m in love with you!”

  She turned away, her shoulders slumping.

  “Stop yelling at me.”

  The quiet reproach snapped him back to his senses.

  What was he doing? Yelling at the woman he loved—who also happened to be pregnant with his child?

  Was he out of his fucking mind?

  He took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’d intended to discuss our future when we came home tonight.”

  She nodded, looking mollified, then rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands as he had done a few minutes ago. He sat there watching her, agonized over whether he could or should touch her again and, worse, whether she might be crying, but her eyes were dry when she abruptly sat back up and dropped her hands.

  The wall was up again. He realized that right away.

  There was something in the blankness of her expression that terrified him.

  If only he knew what to say. He’d handled all of this very badly tonight, and he’d had such high hopes this morning. In his mind, he’d seen their discussion about the future of their relationship unfolding so differently. She’d give up her frustrating rule about hiding things, and they’d attend the gala together. They’d come back here and toast the triumphant evening with champagne. He would tell her—again—how much he loved her, and that he planned to make Journey’s End his permanent home.

  Maybe she’d even admit that she loved him as well.

  None of that had happened, though. But he wasn’t giving up.

  There were times when she looked at him and he’d swear he saw it all shining in her eyes.

  And times, like now, when those eyes turned so flat and inaccessible that she might have borrowed them from a rag doll. When she looked at him like that, fear locked him down tight. But he suspected she was also locked behind her own fear, just as she also had panic attacks.

  He wasn’t a stellar human being.

  But he damn sure wouldn’t let anyone’s fear destroy this fledgling family.

  “Baptiste? What did you want to say?”

  “I’m in love with you,” he told her. Again. The weight of keeping it locked inside eased off his shoulders until all he felt was joy. “I’ve been in love with you since the night we met. I don’t want to go back to France unless you’re in France with me. I’d rather move here so we can be close to your family and my friends, and I can work from anywhere. I just…I’m in love with you. This is my home. With you. And our baby.”

  She stared at him, her expression still impenetrable.

  Like that, all his euphoria evaporated. Again.

  When his heart had sunk and settled somewhere on the other side of the globe, he reached for even more courage.

  “Say something,” he said, his voice hoarse and hot tears welling in his eyes.

  She clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them. “Okay.”

  He blinked. “Okay? Don’t you believe me?”

  She hesitated. “I believe you think you’re in love with me, yes.”

  The words all congealed in his throat, refusing to come for several long seconds.

  “But you think, what? That as a grown man of thirty-six who has been with dozens of women, I’m incapable of knowing whether I’m in love or not?”

  “It’s too soon to say whether we’re in love or not,” she said coolly.

  “Is it?” he asked, hating her a bit in that moment.

  “Yes. Time will tell.”

  She was right, of course. He was in love with her, and when he was still in love with her ten years from now…twenty…fifty…well, then, time would tell.

  But it was the way she said it.

  I think it’s going to rain tomorrow, Samira.

  Time will tell.

  “When will you ever believe me?” Gathering outrage made his voice pitch higher. “I moved in with you. I want to give you my grandmother’s jewels. I insisted on meeting your parents. I told you I loved you. Do you think I do that all the time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? I bought a house! For you! For us!”

  She seemed stricken. “What?”

  He hadn’t meant to tell her like that, to throw it in her face like a weapon. But, on the other hand, at least he’d jarred her out of her detachment.

  He ran his hands over the top of his head, trying to master his frustration.

  “I met Raymond at the bonfire. He pointed out this house to me. On the hill—”

  She gaped at him. “Howard’s Folly?”

  “Yes. I was standing there looking at it, and I saw it all.”

  She went absolutely still, except for a muscle throbbing in her temple.

  “All what?”

  “Everything. I saw us fixing it up. Us going home there every night, cooking dinner together and playing with our children.”

  “Our…children?”

  “Yes. This one is a boy and the next one is a girl. They have curly hair like mine, only darker.” The euphoria snuck back in again. He felt it lighting up his face. “I saw it all like it was right there in front of me. And I bought the house. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You bought a house.”

  “Yes. Well, I had a panic attack at the bonfire first. Because the images were so clear and so unexpected, and I’d never thought I’d have a family. Ask Melody. She’ll tell you. She found me when you sent her to bring me back for dinner.”

  She stared at him for one disbelieving second, her mouth open and her brow furrowed.

  And then she cried out, the sound shrill in the relative quiet.

  “Why would you say that when we both know you’re going to leave me?”

  “What? I’m not leaving you. I just said—”

  “Yes, you are!” Her voice rose sharply with hysteria while tears ran, unchecked, down her cheeks. “Everyone always leaves me! Why would you be any different?”

  Sudden understanding hit him like the touch of God’s grace.

  “Non, madame,” he said quietly, reaching for her.

  She batted his hands away. “Don’t touch me! Go ahead and leave and don’t bother coming back! You know you want to!”

  “No.” If only she knew how serious he was about this. If only he could open up his heart and show her how it had blossomed since they got together. “The only time in my entire life that I haven’t been lonely is the time I’ve spent with you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere.”

  “Yes, you are! Everyone does! My birth mother left me! Terrance left me!”

  Merde. She was ripping his guts out.

  “No.”

  “Now my parents are leaving me to be with their real daughter in Phoenix, and my bir
th mother still wants nothing to do with me! So I guess she re-left me! And don’t get me started on my mysterious birth father. No one knows a damn thing about him. But you’re going to stay? The greatest man I’ve ever met? Why would you stay? Even the baby is trying to leave me!”

  “No, Samira.”

  “Go ahead and act like you love me! You think you’re the only one who can put on a good show? You think I’m going to fall for it again? Honey, I’ve seen that routine before with Terrance! I know you’re going to leave as soon as you get smart and realize that there’s something wrong with me! Because no one sticks around me! Ever!”

  That did it. Enough was enough. He didn’t care if she did groin-strike him.

  He took her by the arms, maintaining a firm grip to stop her from breaking free, and slowly pulled her across the cushion and up against his side. She lashed out. Struggled.

  He didn’t let that stop him.

  Nothing was going to stop him from bridging this divide between them.

  Eventually, all the fight went out of her. She collapsed against his chest, letting him cradle and rock her while she cried.

  “I’m so scared the baby is going to die! I’m so scared—”

  “Shhh. Don’t say that. Our little boy is not going to die. He’s a miracle already, because we were using condoms. So we’re not losing him now. You’ll see.”

  “I’m so scared…”

  He smoothed her hair and murmured to her in French, telling her all the secret feelings that refused to remain quiet on this extraordinary night:

  That she was the strongest, funniest, sexiest and most amazing woman he’d ever met.

  That he loved and would never leave her.

  That he wanted to marry her and worship her like the queen she was.

  That they would make a home together, where he would always take care of her, their children and her parents.

  That everything would be okay.

  If only she believed in him and loved him back.

  13

  Hormonal mood swings were to be expected, according to Samira’s OB/GYN.

  Even so, Samira found herself grossly unprepared for the sight of the Sold sign on the front lawn of her parents’ tiny Cape Cod early the following Saturday morning. Nor was she ready for the stacked boxes, disarranged furniture and general commotion inside the house when she let herself in bearing a box of pastries. All the family pictures had come down off the walls, and her mother’s menagerie of tiny crystal animals were gone from the china cabinet. As for her father’s massive collection of TV show DVDs (the entire series of The Waltons and Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, for example), Samira hoped they’d been donated to some senior center and were not waiting to be packed into the fifty-odd boxes they would surely require, but she doubted it. Her luck had never been that good.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  No answer. Just muffled voices and thumping in one of the bedrooms. Then tags jangled, toenails clicked and the dogs glided in from the hallway. They immediately sandwiched her between their lean bodies, their long snouts up in the air as their noses worked overtime to sniff out the treats she held overhead, well out of their reach.

  “Don’t even try it.” She laughed as Vinnie gave her a particularly soulful brown-eyed look. “I’m immune to your silent begging.”

  Extricating herself, Samira wove her way through the ordered chaos to the kitchen table, where she set the box and her keys down, absently scratching the dogs’ velvety heads as she tried to conquer her pangs of nostalgia.

  Her childhood home, gone.

  It wasn’t that she’d expected her parents to live in a state of suspended animation, putting their lifelong retirement plans on hold on the off chance that Samira would one day want/need to return to her old bedroom.

  It was just that she hadn’t expected to feel this shaken by the loss of this touchstone in her life.

  But then, rarely had she had such an upheaval-filled week.

  The biggest change? Baptiste’s return to France for his meetings.

  “I’ll be back in two weeks,” he’d told her on Monday, setting his packed Louis Vuitton overnight bag on the floor of her foyer and enveloping her in his arms.

  “I know.”

  She said it with a bright smile that was part of her ongoing campaign to fake it till she made it. While she might be inwardly terrified over the ongoing potential for miscarriage until she hit that crucial twelve-week mark, the baby was, according to that morning’s ultrasound, alive with a strong heartbeat and a nicely bean-shaped little body. The cramps had stopped altogether and might have been caused by ligament pain and/or dehydration.

  So all was well on the baby front at the moment.

  And, true, she still felt unsure about the future of her relationship with Baptiste, but that didn’t mean she needed to curl up in the fetal position on her sofa with a blankie and a cup of Earl Grey. Did she want to? Of course. But that wasn’t how she’d rolled up till now, and she wasn’t going to start.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she added.

  He tipped up her chin and gave her a pointed look, as though he knew everything running through her head. Honestly, there were times, like now, when she thought he’d commissioned schematics of her thought process so he could study her ins and outs at his leisure. The way he read her mind was exceptionally disconcerting, as was pretty much everything else about him.

  “You will see me soon,” he said firmly.

  “Didn’t I just say that?”

  They smiled at each other in a moment of perfect understanding.

  Things had been a bit awkward between them since the other night. Their mating dance had become a bit more delicate, and they remained on pins and needles about the baby.

  But right here and now, they occupied the exact same space:

  He didn’t want to go anywhere without her, and she damn sure didn’t want to let him go.

  “Remember what the doctor said.” He kissed her forehead, then let his lips brush it as he spoke. “It wouldn’t hurt if you wanted to get some rest for a day or two.”

  “But I don’t want,” she reminded him. “And it’s not going to make a difference one way or the other, except it might drive me insane if I had to sit around for too long.”

  He frowned and opened his mouth.

  “And,” she continued loudly, “I’ll be going to all my Krav Maga classes. Just so you know.”

  He pulled back, his expression now tight with exasperation. “Why not pretend a little, just to make me feel better? I’ll be gone. I’ll never know the truth. What could it hurt?”

  She had to laugh. “You would think something was wrong if I sat around.”

  “You’re right,” he said glumly, pressing his lips to her forehead again. “If I called and you said you were resting quietly, I would fly right back again to see what was the matter.”

  They laughed together until he pulled her all the way into his arms. She held on for all she was worth while he kissed her cheek and the side of her neck.

  “I don’t want to leave you.” His voice turned thick with emotion. “It’s killing me.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said, her kisses equally fervent. “We’ll see each other soon.”

  “Yes, and when I come back, things will be different,” he said in her ear. “First of all, I expect you to be much more fluent in French. How are you coming?”

  “Très bien, monsieur.”

  “Travel French that fools no one,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Pathetic.”

  She pulled a tragic face and threw a hand over her heart. “Je suis profondément désolée.”

  “You’re not sorry at all. And don’t try to distract me from my list.”

  “Continuez, monsieur.”

  His lips twitched at the corners. “Second, I’m not hiding my feelings anymore. If my heart tells me to say I love you a hundred times a day, I will. You’ll get used to it. And you’ll say it back to me when you’re ready. Third, when we have an ev
ent, we go together.”

  “Baptiste—”

  “Finally,” he said firmly, “when I come back, we need to work on remodeling our house so it’ll be ready by the time the baby comes. So make sure you keep watching our home improvement shows.”

  By that point, her anxieties had begun to kick up their little feet. So many changes, so quickly. She stiffened involuntarily, but he tightened his hold. And she held on for dear life. Her mind might be full of yeah, buts (yeah, but what if you get back to Paris and decide you miss the bright lights and big city; yeah, but we’re in the honeymoon phase now, but what if we fall apart six months from now?), but her heart only had one coherent thought:

  I love you.

  She pulled back and did her best to regenerate that carefree smile on her face.

  “You should go. Your pilot will be waiting.”

  Another flicker of exasperation crossed his expression. “The pilot is paid to wait until I get there. Don’t try to ferret out of the question.”

  “Weasel.”

  “Whatever.”

  They dimpled at each other.

  “Je t’aime, ma reine,” he said.

  Her responsive I love you, too was right on the tip of her tongue, but unfortunately blocked by an invisible brick wall that seemed to originate at the base of her burning throat.

  “I hope you still t’aime me when you come back,” she said instead.

  “You’ll see.” He stared her in the face, his green eyes direct and unwavering. “It took me this long to know what it’s like to fall in love. I’m not taking it back now.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  His intense gaze held hers. “Don’t forget me while I’m gone.”

  “What are the chances of that?”

  “We’ll be phoning and video chatting and texting—and sexting, of course—so the chances are zero.”

  He’d been gone five days. Seven more days until he came back and she could breathe again.

  Meanwhile, her parents were also leaving. They were entitled to spend their retirement wherever they wanted to, she sternly told herself; it had nothing to do with her. So she was determined to send them on their way without any tears, despite her wacky hormones.