He groaned, unable to argue with her logic. But logic wasn’t ruling his decisions. Fear and past evidence was. “Even if it doesn’t, I can’t take the constant fear that something awful is going to happen to you because of me. I’m not going to let you be hurt.”
She cupped his face in her hands, refusing to let him pull away. “Then don’t walk away from me.”
He swallowed hard, fighting not to respond to her plea, to keep his distance when everything in him rebelled against it. “I have to.”
“Make no mistake, Derek. If I leave this house today, it’s you walking away from me. Not the other way around. I don’t believe in curses, but if there is one, I believe our love is much more powerful.”
Her heart was in her voice and her eyes.
His heart filled every time he looked at her. “I’ve seen the history. Hell, I’ve lived it. I’m not tempting Fate.” He couldn’t.
Like his daughter, Gabrielle was too precious.
“That’s your final decision? Despite the fact that I love you with everything inside me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not despite the fact that you love me, Gabby. Because you love me.”
FOR THE FIRST FEW DAYS after the fire, Gabrielle kept herself busy with work. She had lost her man, but she was determined to write her book. Even if she’d failed to prove to Derek that circumstances, not curses, dictated the course of one’s life, she still believed it herself.
Like Gabrielle, Kayla wasn’t about to let the fire prevent her from continuing her story, which had grown in scope since Mayor Perkins’s arrest. Kayla wanted to continue working in Stewart and Perkins, so instead of moving home, she returned to Mrs. Rhodes’s inn for the duration of filming.
It wasn’t easy to stay in town and no longer be with Derek, but Gabrielle powered through. She’d be back at her big, lonely apartment in Boston soon enough. After five days, Kayla declared she had enough interviews and footage to go forward. She packed up her crew and returned to Boston.
Freed up from the constant camera presence, Gabrielle headed for Sharon’s house with a bottle of wine. Though she’d spoken with Sharon since the fire, they’d agreed not to hang out until they could have a girls’ night—no men and more important, no camera crew tagging along.
Sharon’s parents were at the movies and they had the family room to themselves. Sharon put the DVD of Ocean’s Eleven on television, satisfying Gabrielle’s George Clooney fix while giving Sharon her fill of Brad Pitt.
Half a bottle of chardonnay later, Sharon raised her glass in a toast. “To handsome men.”
Gabrielle grinned. “To handsome men who know how to treat women.” She clinked her glass against Sharon’s.
“To fictional men,” Sharon said with a wistful sigh.
“What’s going on? I thought with the threat to Richard’s campaign over, things between the two of you would be back on track.” Gabrielle took a sip of her wine.
Sharon stretched her legs out in front of her and wiggled her toes. “I think my toes are numb,” she said, laughing.
“Quit avoiding the question.”
Sharon shrugged. “You’re assuming things were ever normal. I told you, I don’t think he really knows me. I felt so lucky a good man would want to marry me, I let him think I’d become this docile, fragile female.”
Gabrielle frowned. “I thought that’s why you bought the lingerie at Victoria’s Secret. To show him the real you.” She nudged Sharon’s feet with hers. “What happened?”
“He’s been working nonstop. Or he’s been avoiding having the big discussion. I’m not sure which.”
Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s time you found out?”
Sharon downed the last of her glass. “You know what? I think you’re right. I’ll be right back.” She stood and ran upstairs.
Sharon was gone for a while. Whatever she had planned, Gabrielle figured the wine had put her up to it. But Sharon did need to face Richard once and for all.
Sharon came back down the stairs wearing the teddy she’d purchased on their shopping trip and a pair of high-heeled sandals.
Gabrielle’s eyes opened wide. She jumped up from her seat on the floor. “Where are you going dressed like that?”
Sharon opened the hall closet and pulled out a light trench coat and pulled it on, wrapping the belt tight around her waist. Then she grabbed her car keys. “To show Richard the real me.”
Gabrielle reached out and snagged the keys from her hand. Neither one of them were in any shape to drive. “I’ll call a cab to drive me home and we can drop you off along the way.”