An Improper Ever After(75)

Is my love so shallow that I don't trust her?

Even when my discovery has turned her face into a rictus of panic, she's lovely. I want to protect her, tell her I can fix everything, that nothing will be different because-in spite of everything-I still love her.

Love.

Belle's story is very, very hard to swallow. Even Nonny could come up with a better lie. At the same time, life is complicated, and has its share of ridiculous coincidences. If it were anybody but Keith Shellington's name on the card, I wouldn't think twice about what she told me.

As the moment stretches, her teeth dig into her shaking lower lip. I crouch before her and gently free her lip with shaky fingers.

"Do you want me to pack my things?" she whispers without meeting my gaze.

"What?" I couldn't have heard that right.

She finally looks up. "I can't do what we did after you found out about Mr. Grayson. I just can't!" Unshed tears shimmer in her eyes. She blinks rapidly to make them go away, but they spill over her cheeks anyway.

The sight cuts like jagged glass. The realization that I crushed her like that eviscerates me. She hasn't been dreading the discovery, but my reaction. And my accusatory tone must've gutted her.

I'm such a fucking douchebag. I don't deserve her even though I have no intention of letting her go. Ever.

I reach out and hold her fragile shoulders. "You won't have to." I kiss the corner of her mouth and taste the salt of her tears. "I trust you."

"But …  I thought … "

"It's a choice, Belle. And I choose to believe you."

"You aren't going to wonder later?" The words come out garbled and fast, almost unrecognizable. "That I made a fool out of you?"

"No. We said we loved each other. I can't love you without trust. And faith."

She exhales sharply and collapses in my arms, hot tears streaming down silently. I hold her, running my hands over her delicate back. "You have to stop crying or you're going to make yourself ill," I whisper into her hair.

She merely clutches me harder.

"If not for me, do it for Jana. She'll be despondent without her assistant tomorrow." That earns me a watery laugh. "I'm sorry I hurt you so badly."




 

 

"I don't want to think about the past."

I understand that. But I need to face my past. "Belle, even though I trust you, Keith's running into you was no coincidence. I don't want that son of a bitch sniffing around me and my new family. I need to confront him."

She pulls back. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"There is … if you're sure."

Her eyes flash. "He stole from you and is apparently trying to get between us. So yes, I want him to at least say 'sorry' to your face, now that he's been found out."

I smile. I don't have the heart to tell her how unlikely that is. He's a fucking rat-an ungrateful, traitorous rat. "Contact him and tell him you couldn't get that stain out. He'll ask to meet. Let him set the time, date and location. That's it."

"What if he just offers to send money instead?"

I shake my head. "He won't. He went to a lot of trouble to meet you in person."

"All right, if you're sure. I can call him right now, actually." She takes her phone out and starts to enter his number, then stops. "I don't think I can talk to him while hiding how I really feel about him."

"Then don't. Text him."

She nods and types a few things. I don't try to look at what she's writing over her shoulder.

Toying with her hair with my fingers, I study her fierce face. Despite the upcoming confrontation with Keith, I feel as light and worry-free as a cloud in a sunny sky, because nothing can destroy what we have so long as we love and trust each other.





Chapter Twenty-Eight



Annabelle

I stretch my neck as the last conference call of the day ends. It was a long one with some overseas clients whose English was so thickly accented that I had a hard time deciphering what they were saying. Still, I managed to take a copious amount of notes as Jana instructed.

"I'll type them up right away," I say, gathering my legal pad and pen from the table in my boss's office.

"Unless your handwriting's so bad that you won't be able to make your notes out on Monday, you can go home," Jana says.

I glance at my watch. "But it's only four." And as far as I know, Jana doesn't believe in cutting the workday short unless there's a good reason, and today being Friday isn't one.

She settles behind her neatly organized desk. "Tomorrow's your birthday, so I'm letting you off early."

"Oh. I didn't … " I forgot about that. I stopped celebrating the last two years, mostly due to the lack of funds and just … not having any reason to when things were progressively becoming bleaker. "How did you know?"