Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trying to keep her mind empty, Anne closed her eyes and let the masseur work the knots out of her shoulders.
Almost a week had gone by as she’d lounged by the pleasantly energetic Atlantic coast, sampled every spa treatment, ignored the alcohol, and indulged in rich desserts. Could a baby be born addicted to caramel?
In between eating and swimming and reading…she moped.
Days had passed, yet her family dinner, then Shadowlands blowup, seemed to have happened last night. She still felt as though she’d just driven across Florida and checked into a St. Augustine hotel.
She’d run away. Hadn’t even packed her phone. No orderly retreat for her—she’d totally fled the field of battle.
Then again, she always had when it came to emotional upheavals. During confrontations, she’d go nose to nose. But afterward…she’d hide out until her emotions settled.
She was getting there. Soon. Really. As soon as she could breathe without hurting, she’d return to her life.
But…she could still see the pain in Ben’s eyes. Hear his anger. “Thanks for the taste.” Her fingers curled into—
“Stop that. Relax,” the masseur murmured. His low voice was as even as a river stone with the edges sanded smooth. Nothing like Ben’s rough voice with the faint New York bite.
I want Ben. When her eyes prickled with tears, she inhaled through her nose, fighting them back.
The masseur sighed, covered her up, and rubbed her shoulder lightly. “Rest and when you’re ready, pull on the robe and enjoy the steam room. I’ll leave a glass of water outside the room for you. Drink it all.”
“Thank you, Marc. Nice massage.”
He huffed. “Hardly. You kept undoing my efforts.” His gaze roamed over her face. “It’s tough to move on from the past sometimes. I’d be happy to help with that as well.”
The offer was polite and careful. And she wasn’t interested in the least. “You’re very kind. But I’m returning home tomorrow.”
He tilted his head in acceptance. “In that case, I’ll simply say, it’s been a pleasure.”
“For me, as well.”
An hour later, lacking any motivation to do…anything…she lingered on the deck outside the hotel restaurant. Her supper dishes had been cleared away, and the cheerful waitress had brought her a cup of herb tea.
Past the lush tropical landscaping was a long expanse of white sandy beach. Waves rolled in, high and foamy, with a grumbling roar never heard on the Gulf. The Atlantic Ocean was so much bigger, so much more powerful. Like the difference between the masseur and Ben.
No. Not going there.
She rested her bare foot on the adjacent chair and studied her pedicure. Her toenails were dark blue with tiny glittering stars, like a night sky.
During her days here, her body had been refreshed, pampered, and decorated.
Physically, she felt well enough she had trouble believing she was pregnant.
Well, except when she lay down on a massage table and realized her breasts were uncomfortably larger and more tender.
Or when some scent would make her want to heave.
Or when an emotion would yank her along like a riptide.
Yes, she was positively pregnant. And her time for mindless moping must come to an end. She needed to make some decisions about her life. A whole lot of decisions, actually.
She wiggled her toes, creating mayhem in the starry skies. Good at that, wasn’t she? If someone had paid her, she couldn’t have managed to sabotage her careful, comfortable life better than what she’d accomplished last weekend.
As Ben would say, “Bravo Zulu, Anne.”
Ben. What should she do about him? Would he even speak to her? The memory of his unforgiving expression was accompanied by his cruel words, “Don’t see any need to talk this to death. You were right. I’m vanilla, and I don’t need this kink shit. Thanks for the taste.”
He was done with her. Done.
As anguish expanded from her chest throughout her entire body, she froze, trying to breathe despite the pain. Trying not to burst into tears.
After a few seconds, a few lifetimes, the agony receded, leaving aching emptiness behind. She let out a breath and picked up her tea. Right. She did have to think about Ben, but…this wasn’t the place. She needed to wait until she had her home around her.
She took a sip and forced herself to swallow.
No matter what she decided, she had to tell him about the baby. He was the father. She didn’t want child support, but…but being Ben, he’d insist on providing it. And he’d want to be part of the baby’s life.
That would hurt. And yet—she rested her hand on her stomach—whether girl or boy, the child could only be better for having an example of the finest of men.
For her baby’s sake, she would manage to cope with seeing Ben, and he’d do the same.
She pulled in a breath and blinked back tears. Why did life have to be so painful?
Onward, Anne. Next up, the Shadowlands.
Unable to swallow any longer, she set the tea down with a thump.
“Miss.” The man standing beside her table had gleaming white hair. Dressed in all white, he leaned on a black cane. His blue eyes were faded, yet observant. “I fear I am interrupting, but child, is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’m sorry?” She frowned, not following. Had she dropped something or—
“I’ve never seen anyone outside a hospital look so in agony. Would you permit me to help if I can?” The question brought more pain and yet—a sweetness accompanied it.
The world still contained wonderful people. She held out her hand. Her voice came out husky with unconquered tears. “A recent loss.” So many losses. “But time will take care of it, I’m sure.” Never. “Thank you for your concern.”
Much like the masseur, Marc, the senior tilted his head in acknowledgment and gave her fingers a squeeze. “All right then, missy. You take good care now.”
“And you.”
He had helped after all, boosting her up and out of her grief. Reminded of the balance of life, she blessed the stranger, and then set her mind to considering that night at the Shadowlands, Cullen and Raoul, and her behavior.
Not good. No matter what they’d said, she herself had overreacted and lost her temper. She couldn’t exactly blame them for doing the same.
If necessary, a talk would see things right between them. But maybe even that wouldn’t be needed. She wasn’t in the Shadowlands any longer.
And she didn’t plan to reinstate her membership. Ben worked there, and…for both their sakes, she’d keep a distance. And, in all reality, it would be a long, long time before she opened up to accepting a submissive again, even for lightweight play.
But she’d miss seeing her friends there. Not only the Masters and Mistresses, but also the submissive women, Jessica, Beth, Kim…all of them. She’d always had casual friends, but this group had become more. They were an important part of her life.
Just another change she hadn’t noticed sneaking up on her.
Her mouth firmed. The Shadowlands was out, but she wouldn’t lose her girlfriends.
She’d never willingly left a friend behind.
Not when she was a child and dragged away by her father.
Not now. Maybe they’d find it awkward to be friends with both her and Ben, but they’d manage, because loyalty was one of their finest qualities.
Next subject to fret about: her occupation.
She smiled. The job topic wasn’t nearly as painful. Wasn’t that nice?
Leaning her head back on the chair, she considered her options.
First possibility. She was a very, very good skip tracer and team leader, and Robert truly was incompetent. The uncles might well reconsider and want her back.
Second possibility. She could pursue other jobs.
If she tightened her belt—uh, bad phrasing.
She patted her stomach. Sorry, baby. If she pinched her pennies, she could take her time finding a new position.
She’d banked most of her wages, so her savings account was healthy.
Her beach house had been a gift, so she had no rent or mortgage to pay each month. Thanks, Mom.
The only trouble with her home was living so close to her father. Unfortunately, moving away for a few years would hurt her mother.
Besides, her love for him hadn’t died. Dad was a total archaic butthead about equality and about seeing her as she was, but he loved her too. Somehow, they’d make up.
But he needed to make the first move. Damn straight.
There, she had some plans made.
Tomorrow, she’d check out of the hotel and return home. It was time to put things right and deal with the changes that she would set in motion.
And then there was the biggest change of all.
With a half-smile, she laid her hand on her stomach. I’m carrying Ben’s baby.
Since Travis’s visit yesterday, Ben had searched for Anne without results. Called the bail bond company. Checked the shelter. Used the Shadowlands membership list to check with her girlfriends…and the little shit, as well.
He’d come up empty.
At his monthly veteran’s group meeting, he lingered behind the others. “Talk to you for a minute, Z?”
“Of course. Help yourself to a beer; water for me, please.” Z squeezed his shoulder and walked out to say good night to the rest.
Ben grabbed a beer and water, took a seat at the iron-and-oak table, and…stewed. Where the fuck could the woman have gone? Surely, she’d have checked in.
Gaze on Ben, Z crossed the lanai and sat across from him. “What’s worrying you?”
Before he could answer, the door on the third-floor landing opened. Jessica came down the stairs with Sophia asleep in her arms and spotted Ben. “Oops, sorry. I thought everyone had left.” She turned to go.
“Nah, Jessica,” Ben said. “No secrets here. I wanted to talk about Anne. Need to share some information and get some advice.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Here, little one.” Z rose and held a chair for her, before touching the baby’s cheek with gentle fingers.
Envy—and grief—filled Ben’s heart. With losing Anne, hopes had died that he hadn’t even known he’d created.
“Go on, Benjamin,” Z prompted, resuming his seat.