The probability didn’t lessen the feelings of abandonment he’d hoped never to experience again, but the knowledge allowed him to let her go in peace. He, too, could use the time to sort out his jumbled emotions.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He shrugged, but said nothing. Ignoring her seemed the easiest means of blocking his pain. She reached down and retrieved her sneakers from the floor.
He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes, waiting until he heard the thud of the bedroom door before opening them again. The noise emphasized the point. He was alone.
EIGHT
Chelsie drove for hours, seeking solace that eluded her. She’d get lost, circle the same roads four or five times, find her way, and just keep going. She had nowhere else to turn.
Her work, always an escape, was now tied to Griff. Her office, her papers, her things all sat in boxes in the upstairs of his house. Though she could go back to the city, her tiny apartment held little appeal. She’d furnished her cold apartment as a reminder. The decor clearly stated this was no place for a child.
Until this morning, the reminder had worked. The sterile, glass environment she’d purposefully created was home to the woman she’d been before she had accepted Griffin Stuart’s offer. Before she’d been foolish enough to make love with him.
That woman had known she’d never have children, a family, a warm place to call home. She’d known better than to become a part of something she could never have. The minute Griff had brought the little girl into the bed, as if they were a family, her family, Chelsie’s orderly world had tipped precariously off balance. When he’d indicated his preference to have more children, her world disintegrated before her.
For the first time, she’d dared to want something she could never have. She should have known better. She made a U-turn and headed towards Boston. Maybe time alone in her apartment was exactly what she needed to set things right.
But when she walked into the stark, crystal-filled living room, she didn’t find the sense of peace she sought. She found the truth. The place she called home wasn’t. Chelsie was alone.
* * *
“I take it this is your version of ‘coming back’?” Griff asked on Monday morning. The rest of the weekend had passed without a word or a phone call, as if the night they’d spent together had never happened.
“I’m here.”
“It’s a little late, isn’t it’?”
Chelsie turned from the box she’d been unpacking. “I never said when, just that I’d be here.”
“Semantics again.”
“Whatever.”
She unwrapped a brass clock and placed it next to the blotter on her desk. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Otherwise, he might give in to the urge to throttle her. The woman standing before him in a prim business suit and hair pulled back into a tight bun bore little resemblance to the tousled woman in his bed the morning before. Unfortunately, her seductive scent was the same and memories flooded back hard and fast. Even her outward appearance couldn’t dull his need.
He suspected she’d undergone the transformation on purpose. That she thought the cool facade would provide a deterrent only proved how little she knew him.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better.”
“And Alix?”
“Also better. Mrs. Baxter’s back.”
“I know. I called to check on Alix earlier.”
And didn’t bother to speak with him. Griff reached for her arm, turning her to face him. “We have to talk.”
She shook her head. “Not now.” She gestured to the many boxes spread across the floor.
So she had to unpack. He knew that and had planned on helping out. His secretary had come in for a few hours and then he’d given her the rest of the day off for the same reason. There would be plenty of time for work when he and Chelsie had finished combining offices.
Without a secretary or client in sight, Griff couldn’t think of a better moment to hash things out between them. “Seems like the perfect time to me. We’re alone.”
“But we won’t be for long. While you were downstairs, your secretary left a message about booking a potential client around noon.” Her lips turned downward in a frown.