Olivia just nodded with her whole upper body, back and forth.
And the peace in Christine’s heart shattered, engulfing her with fear.
She’d believed in happily-ever-after once. Had given her whole heart to her mom and dad, her grandparents, Nathan. Ryder. And had it shattered. Again. And again. And again. And once more after that.
She’d survived. And other than her mother’s death, she’d handled it all alone.
She couldn’t do it again. Couldn’t open herself up to another possible loss.
She just couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty
Jamie went running first thing Saturday morning. In athletic shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he put on his newest tennis shoes and took off down the beach from his little cottage. He’d spoken to Christine twice since their Wednesday night skitter off course. Normally he’d have requested to visit with her.
He didn’t.
He missed his baby like crazy.
Missed Christine almost as badly.
Felt like he’d been unfaithful to his wife. To her memory. Kissing the woman who was carrying Emily’s child.
Even wanting to kiss her.
Wanting to make love to her with a fire that burned hotter than anything he’d ever felt before. The truth poured through him as he ran, consuming him with shame.
He couldn’t hide from what had happened. Or how he’d felt.
Didn’t even attempt to try.
He just didn’t know how he could come to terms with either Christine or his son, feeling as he did.
Half an hour into the run he came face-to-face with waves slapping up against a cliffside at the beach’s end. He could turn around. Head back. Or go up and over, with the hope that he’d be able to reach sand on the other side. The shoreline had more beach. For more than a hundred miles. He just had no idea what cliffs came in between sandy stretches.
Feeling as though his whole life was suddenly filled with unknowns, unable to tolerate not knowing what lay ahead, he started to climb. Slid a couple of times, scraping his arm pretty badly, bruising a knee, but he kept going, and twenty minutes in, saw a way that would have been quicker. And saw beach, too. As soon as his shoes hit sand, he started running again. Only briefly availing himself of the waterspout attached to the pack on his back.
Em?
Where was she?
Where was he?
Why didn’t he feel even the slightest bit of resentment that Christine was carrying the child Emily had been meant to carry? She’d assumed, near the beginning of the pregnancy, that he would resent her.
And the house... He co
uldn’t wait to get out of the house he and Emily had bought together. The home she’d loved. Yet, here he was, still just looking at homes like he had all the time in the world, feeling no rush to find a new one, happy in his little cottage.
He’d been told the owners were willing to sell, and he’d actually been thinking about buying it. It would be great for a weekend at the beach. For his and Tom’s visitors. Or for his mother to stay in when she visited.
But if he wasn’t in a hurry to get into the new house, why rush out of the old? He’d told Christine that it hadn’t ever felt like a home to him. And felt badly afterward.
But the words were true.
He wanted their child, but not the home Emily had created for it?
Sand flew behind him as he ran on mostly deserted land. If he got to a public beach, there’d be a few people milling about. There always were, no matter what time of year.