25. 25
25
Hettie
I did not expect bath time to become a water fight. Bo surprised me.
It’s not the first time since I’ve been back.
He helps me put Tema to bed, cleaning up the water damage in the bathroom while I brush the tangles out of her hair. He sits on the edge of the bed while I read her a chapter of Harry Potter.
He drops a kiss on her forehead when he says good night.
I take a minute with Tema, but the excitement from the bath has worn off, and the lavender bubbles do their trick like they always do. Her eyes are heavy and with one last kiss, I back out of the room.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Tema-toot?”
“I like it here. I wish we’d come sooner.”
The sigh escapes before I can stop it. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
Bo is poking the fire and I wonder if he heard our comments. Not that it matters; I do wish we’d come sooner. Seeing Bo with our daughter, it’s not difficult to feel the regret of not telling him.
If I had told him I was pregnant, things would be so different.
But I didn’t, and here we are.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I sink onto the couch .
He frowns. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re thanking me for, but you’re welcome. I had fun.” He points through the fire. “With her.”
“Thank you for not being upset about me not telling you. You had every right to be angry.”
“Ah.” He sets down the poker and comes to sit beside me. Not too close, but less than a cushion distance apart this time.
I make note of how close he is, and how I wouldn’t be opposed to having him a little closer.
Not that I should suggest, or hope for it.
“Getting upset wasn’t really an option.” Bo shifts, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he looks at me. “If I was mad, it would have gotten in the way of me getting to know her.” He points to the bedroom. “But you never know what the therapist is going to tell me to do.”
I smile, realizing he’s joking. “You’re going to talk to someone?”
“I don’t really have a choice there either,” he says ruefully.
“Like you told me, you always have a choice.”
The blue in his eyes is intense. “Do I?”
I don’t think he’s asking about the therapist. “I think it’ll be good for you,” I say instead.
“Have you ever?”
I shake my head. “It probably would have helped when I was growing up, but no. Anyway, I have Abigail. There’s no keeping secrets from her, and she’s always quite open with her opinions.”
“What do you think is going on with her and Spencer?” Bo frowns again, and just the slight movement in his forehead makes him look more like his father .
The king.
I have to remember that this isn’t just Bo sitting here in the warmth of the fire with me, but a man who has a duty to his own family, as well as a country.
“Nothing. Yet.” Because Abigail might give in to whatever she feels for Spencer, but she won’t consider anything longer than a few days until she knows what I’m going to do. And it’s not just me that will keep Abigail at my side. She loves Tema almost as much as I do.
“Depends on this, then.” Bo motions between the two of us.
“Maybe.”
The fire cracks and sparks flare as a log catches fire.
There are still sparks between us, but we need more than that. We need… I’m not sure.
Forgiveness? For ourselves as well as each other? It would be a start but would it be enough. We have eight years to get through.
We need more than one conversation for that.
“Maybe we should figure it out. For their sake.” Bo’s fingers stretch out to rest on my shoulder. The touch sends a jolt through me and I shift without realizing it.
Bo drops his arm.
“I don’t know if it’s that easy,” I admit.
“It could be. You tell me how you’re feeling, and then I’ll tell you how I feel.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Why do I have to go first?”
“Because you’re braver than I am.”
“I don’t know, I’ve seen you climb pretty big trees.”
“You’ve had a baby. Alone.” He shifts again but his arm doesn’t move. “What was it like? ”
“Having a baby?” I laugh. “It hurt.”
He grins and it’s so nice to see him open and… happy. There have been a lot of emotions crossing Bo’s face, but I haven’t seen a lot of happiness since I’ve been here.
Except when he’s with Tema.
“I think I could have figured that out,” he says. “Tell me about it.”
“For the most part, it was easy. I was pretty sick for the first six months, and I didn’t get that big. I managed to hide it until around then, if I was careful to wear baggy clothes. I might have a picture.” I reach for my phone, reminded of the brief conversation with Timothy earlier.
He had asked what we had for dinner. Nothing about how it felt sharing a meal with the royal family. Nothing about what was said.
He spent more time telling me about his latest condo deal than asking how I was.
I push thoughts of Timothy out of my mind and scroll through my photos. There are so many of Tema and I show them to Bo.
He moves closer so we can look at the screen together, close enough for me to smell the spiciness of his cologne, almost masked by the soapy lavender scent of Tema’s bubble bath.
“Here. This is me a few days before I went into labour.”
Bo takes a long time to study the picture, even touching the screen with his finger. “You’re beautiful,” he says roughly. “You always have been, but seeing you like this… I wish I’d been there.”
I nod. Me too . But I can’t tell him that. Not yet .
“Were you with anyone?” he asks. “When you went into labour?”
“Abigail. We were watching The Suitor.”
Bo makes a disgusted sound in his throat. “Do you still watch that?”
“Yes, and I have yet to ask Odin what he was thinking going on the show.”
He tips his head back and laughs quietly. “I think we all asked him that. Craziest thing he’s ever done, but at least it got him Camille.”
“In a roundabout way. Tell me about—”
“No,” he interrupts. “You first.”
So I tell him what the contractions felt like, how scared I had been, but that Abigail had been as tough and strong as she always is. How my grandfather had been painting in his studio and we couldn’t get him to hurry, so we left without him, taking a taxi through the streets of Victoria because I was terrified I wouldn’t get to the hospital in time.
“Abigail kept complaining how we were missing a good part of the show to distract me. It was the overnights episode, and we kept talking about what we thought would happen, until the contractions got too severe and I couldn’t really talk anymore. Things moved pretty fast—I was seven centimeters dilated when we got there, and about two hours later, I had Tema.”
“Just like that?”
I snort-laugh. “No. No, it wasn’t just like that, but that’s what it feels like now. There were a few scary minutes because she was in distress, but I was pretty out of it. Abigail says it still haunts her. ”
“I guess I’m glad she was with you.” He smiles ruefully, bitterness coating his tone like syrup on a spoon.
“I wanted to call you.” I drop my gaze, unable to watch how he reacts. “I probably shouldn’t tell you—”
“You should.”
“We’d been talking about it for days. The entire pregnancy. Abigail would never give her opinion because she said it was up to me, but when I told her to get the phone, that I wanted you there—” Bo makes a noise in the back of his throat and my own tightens. “—she got it for me. She was ready to dial… and then I had to push because we needed to get her out. It wasn’t until after that she said anything about it, but I… I didn’t think it was fair.”
Bo gets to his feet and begins to paces in front of the fire, his long strides eating up the room. It hurts to watch him.
“No,” he mutters, hands pulling at his hair. “It wasn’t fair. I missed everything —”
“Because I was afraid,” I finish. “You’re right, Bo. We did make a mess out of this.”
“What do we do now?”
I get to my feet and walk over to him, my steps slow and measured so I don’t give in to the urge to run.
Run to him, not away.
And I want to go to him, want to throw myself in his arms, apologizing for everything and showing him how much I missed him.
But not yet. And maybe not ever.
I stand before him and touch his arm. My fingers barely brush the flannel of his shirt when he makes a low groaning noise and brings his hand to cup my face. I lean into his palm, and the moment lengthens.
The fire cracks loudly in the quiet room, but neither of us moves. I study his face like it’s the last time I’m going to see him.
Blue eyes the colour of the sky on a summer day. Dark blond hair that needs a cut. He’ll get wrinkles early because of the furrow on his brow when he’s deep in thought.
The reddish-blond beard tries to hide the mouth…
I trap his fingers between my cheek and my shoulder because I want him to keep touching me. It’s difficult to pull my gaze away from his mouth. The mouth that gave me so many different kisses over the years. My first kiss had been from Bo.
I always thought he’d get my last one.
The room is warm, warmer still being so close to Bo. What would happen if I leaned in, tilted up? Because of the height difference, I’d have to go up on my tiptoes unless he lifted me up. I’d wrap my legs around his waist…
“Hettie.” Bo’s voice is low and pleading and I sway closer.
Tema coughs in the next room.
The sound is like a bucket of cold water and I jerk my chin, Bo’s hand falling from my face. “Timothy.” The expression of horror on Bo’s face— “Not that I’m calling you Timothy,” I quickly add. “It’s just… I have… he’s…” I glance over to my phone like Timothy were sitting there with it. “Bo. I made a commitment to Timothy.”
“Yeah.” The word is so gruff it’s a growl.
“But I made a promise to you, all those years ago.”
He stares at me, blue eyes darkening, and I raise a hand to his chest, resting it over his heart .
How can you tell if you break a heart? Does the beat change? Does it stutter when it cracks in half? Is there a physical reaction to hurting someone that bad?
Can I break Bo’s heart?
“I need to decide what’s best for me, and for Tema,” I whisper. “I have to think of her. She has a life in Victoria. School. Friends. She’s happy there.”
“I know.” It’s almost a groan and his hands slide to my waist, resting on my hips. It’s a gentle touch but it burns through to my insides. His head droops and he looks so sad. “It’s just…”
“I know,” I breathe.
Bo’s head jerks up. “Do you? It’s not just me?”
I meet his gaze and there’s no hiding when he looks at me like that. “It’s taking everything I’ve got not to be in your arms right now.”
“Then why ? Why are we doing this to ourselves? If you want to be with me—”
I do…
The words hang between us, and in that moment, it would be so easy to forget Timothy, to forget my life and let Bo be Bo. Let him convince me to stay.
Because in this moment, it would be so easy.
I draw in a shaky breath. There’s more to us than this moment. There’s eight years to repair, and while Bo could convince me, I need him to convince himself.
“When you told me that it had been a mistake to marry me, that broke me,” I tell him in a low voice. Even the memory of it feels like a punch to the stomach. “And now when I find out it was because you felt guilty— ”
“Why are you bringing this up? It was my fault.”
“No.” I plead with him with my gaze. “It wasn’t. But only you can convince yourself to believe that. Going to talk to the therapist is a good start. Let’s see what they say, and then…”
I can’t even say maybe, although the word is right there, waiting like a conversation you don’t want to have. Because before I can even think it, there are conversations I need to have.
“You said something earlier,” I remind him. “About not losing me again.”
“So if I don’t see this doctor…”
“I don’t think I can,” I finish. I mean to step away from him, but I can’t bring myself to break the connection. “But it’s not just you. I have to deal with my guilt, because it’s not going away. And my family. This isn’t just about how we feel about each other.”
“It’s important,” Bo insists.
“Yes, but we’ve never had a problem with how we feel about each other.”
Feel . Not felt. And because of how I feel at this moment, how I’ve always felt about Bo, I let him pull me closer and rest his chin on the top of my head. His arms go around me and I wrap mine around his waist.
It feels so good to have him hold me that I let it go on for long minutes.
Probably longer than I should.