“If it was real, there wouldn’t be secrets between us.”
Caine’s answer was to gently remove my legs from his lap and walk across the vast room. He disappeared upstairs and all the while my stomach churned with anxiousness.
When he returned thirty minutes later he was dressed in a shirt and slacks, his hair freshly washed and brushed.
“I’m going out,” he threw over his shoulder before grabbing his car keys.
The door slammed shut behind him.
I closed my eyes and the movement put pressure on the tears that were filling them. They scored tracks down my cheeks and I burrowed my face into the couch so I could muffle my sobs.
A minute or so later I jerked at the gentle touch on my shoulder and peered out from under my hair to find Effie there. She was perched on the sofa, gazing at me compassionately. “Caine asked me to come sit with you while he went out.”
I shifted around with care so I could rest my head on her lap and I just cried harder, hating that the bastard had the power to hurt me so badly.
CHAPTER 29
“Well, it all looks good. No sign of infection,” Liz said.
I stared at my outpatient care nurse, a little dazed. I’d been feeling that way since I left the apartment for the first time escorted by Caine, Arnie, and Sly. “I took the Keflex as prescribed,” I murmured.
“Good. Now that the staples are out, try not to forget about the injury. You’ve still got a minimum two weeks of healing to do.”
“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting this anytime soon.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I don’t suppose you will. Have they found the guy yet?”
“Nope.” I stood up and Liz steadied me. “I’m ready to just get on with my life, you know, but with this hanging around my neck …”
She squeezed my arm. “I hope they get him soon, hon.”
I smiled gratefully and she walked me out into the waiting room, where Caine stood talking quietly into his phone while Arnie and Sly stood by the doors. Their real names were Griff and Don, but they answered with good humor to the nicknames I’d given them.
Caine saw us and quickly ended his conversation. He slipped his phone into his pocket and strode over to us. He homed in on Liz. “Everything’s okay?”
“Staples are out. No infection. Lexie’s on the road to recovery.”
“Great.” I gave him a pointed look. “Now I can go home.”
He frowned. “If by ‘home’ you mean my home, then yes, you can go home.”
“Caine—”
“No argument.” He slipped his arm around my waist, thanked Liz, and started to walk me out.
I glanced over my shoulder to give Liz a grateful smile. The whole time I tried to ignore Caine’s body pressed up against mine. I could manage walking by myself just fine, but I didn’t want to cause a scene in the hospital by telling him to back off.
After he’d disappeared last night, Effie helped me upstairs and into bed. No words were needed. I think even this time she was pissed at Caine and understood I’d reached the end of my fight on this one. When I heard him return from his drive a while later, I half hoped he’d come to my room. To say what? I didn’t know. Something. Anything. However, he didn’t, and that was when I decided it was time for me to finally let him go. I lay in bed that night thinking of all the things I needed to sort out in my life that didn’t revolve around Caine.
Solving my career crisis seemed like the place to start. Antoine’s sister, Renée, had been in contact and had given me these two weeks to mull over her offer before she offered it to someone else. Antoine had e-mailed me a few times over the last fourteen days, each e-mail pontificating on the delights and benefits of living in Paris. I had to admit for the last week I’d made it all up my mind that if I could get Caine to confide in me, then I’d stay in Boston. That would have meant looking around the city for a new job anyway, because there was no way I was continuing on as his PA if we were going to be in a serious relationship.
Now, however, I found myself considering Renée’s offer.
Before I even thought about Paris, though, I had to deal with my father. There were too many unresolved issues there. I could not get it out of my head that I would even contemplate that he would hurt me. Yet the thought that the person behind my attack might be him had flittered through my mind, however briefly. Of course upon reflection I was a little horrified with myself for even thinking it. In fact, it more than horrified me—it startled me into realizing that I was never going to get a fresh start anywhere until I found some kind of closure with my father. I had to talk to him, and hoped to God when I did he could make me understand his actions better. If he could, then I might be able to forgive my mother for choosing him over me. After all, the hurt my mother’s choices had inflicted on me were at the core of my issues. How could I let go and move on in Paris if I didn’t come to terms with that hurt, that rejection? I wouldn’t. I’d just take it with me.