Nine Months to Redeem Him Page 17

  I sucked in my breath, covering my mouth with my hand.

  If Edward had loved me, he would have devoted himself to me, night and day, waiting for me to finish work, letting me choose restaurants, taking me to the doctor, rubbing my feet. Driving watermelon and ice cream to my house at three in the morning. He would have let me choose the house we’d live in. I would have been more important than his career.

  His friends.

  His country.

  I always imagined love to be an action, not a word. His words in London came back to haunt me. If I loved someone, I wouldn’t say it, I’d show it. I’d take care of her, putting her needs ahead of my own. I’d put my whole soul into making her happy....

  A choked sound came from the back of my throat.

  What kind of man would do so much for a woman, unless he loved her?

  And worse—what kind of woman would not even notice, until it was too late?

  “He loves you,” Madison said quietly behind me. “And you threw it away for some stupid role in a movie.” Her lips curled as she shook her head. “When I suggested you to the movie producer, I thought I was making amends for Moxie McSocksie....”

  “You’re the one who suggested me for the part?” I breathed.

  “Yeah.” She looked at me accusingly. “I didn’t know you’d use the movie as an excuse to ruin your life!”

  “You’re one to talk,” I said weakly.

  “I know.” She held her hands wide. “Look at me, Diana. Totally alone. With the hole in my heart. If a man ever loved me like that, if he saw all my flaws and could love me anyway...” She looked away. “I’d never let him go.”

  “He cheated on me,” I whispered.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you still so sure?”

  I stared at her. Then I turned and ran up to my bedroom. I dug through my purse until I found an old ratty card. My heart pounded as I dialed a number on my phone.

  “Hello?” the woman’s voice said.

  “Victoria,” I said desperately. “What were you doing with Edward last night?”

  “Who’s that?” She paused. “Diana?”

  “Why were you at his house? Why are you even in California?”

  Victoria laughed. “As if you didn’t know. But I’m glad you called. I wanted to thank you. I misjudged you, Diana. You are a wonderful, wonderful person. Rupert and I will never forget....”

  I gripped the phone. “What are you talking about?”

  “The shares.” She paused. “Do you really not know?”

  “Shares?”

  She gave a tinkly laugh. “For weeks, Edward hinted he might sell his shares of St. Cyr Global. Yesterday Rupert finally had to go back to London, but I stayed here with the children. Edward suddenly called my mobile last night, while I was at a friend’s party in Santa Monica. I rushed over to sign the contract, before he could change his mind!”

  Whatever I’d expected, that hadn’t been it.

  “What?”

  “Oh, dear. Have I let the cat out of the bag? Edward did say he was doing it as a sort of wedding present, to both of you. New life, new career, all that. I gather you’re eloping? Let me know where you’re registered and I’ll send something. We owe you. I promise you’re leaving the company in good hands. And Diana?”

  “Yes?” I repeated, my voice a gaspy wheeze.

  “Welcome to the family!” she said heartily, and hung up.

  My legs trembled. I slowly walked down the stairs, feeling like an old woman. Grief and heartache were building inside me, going radioactive, making my body weak, destroying me cell by cell.

  “What?” Madison demanded when I stumbled into the kitchen.

  “Edward sold all his shares in his family’s company,” I choked out. “That was why Victoria was there. That was Edward’s big secret. He knew how miserable I was in London. This was his surprise.” My throat caught. “It really was a wedding present.”

  “That’s good—isn’t it?”

  I slowly turned to face her.

  “He should have told me,” I whispered.

  Madison put her arm over my shoulders, as she’d done when we were kids. “He didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

  Guilty? Edward had just sold his birthright for my sake. He could have manipulated me, pointed out everything he’d sacrificed for me. Instead, he’d set me free. Even though I saw now it was the last thing he’d wanted to do. What did it mean?

  I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to stop my ice-cold limbs from shaking.

  It meant Edward loved me.

  “He loves me,” I whispered, and I burst into tears. Awful sobs racked my body, almost doubling me over. My stepsister hugged me close.

  “It’ll be all right,” she murmured.

  I shook my head. I’d been so determined to never feel heartbreak again, that I’d raced for the exit at the very first scare. Instead of forcing him to tell me the truth about Victoria, I’d thrown his ring back in his face. I thought pride made me do it. It wasn’t pride.

  It was fear.

  “What are you going to do?” Madison said.

  I looked up, my heart pounding.

  You only have one life, sweetheart, my mom said before she died. And it goes faster than you ever imagine. So make it count. Be brave. Follow your heart.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m going to be brave,” I whispered. “And follow my heart.”

  Madison’s face lifted in a smile. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Reaching into the pocket of her cutoffs, she tossed me her keys. “Take my car.” Her smile turned to a grin. “It’s faster.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SKY WAS sunny and blue, the air languorous with the scent of lilacs and roses.

  Pushing my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose, I clutched my purse and ran toward Madison’s red convertible, sandals flapping hard against the driveway, my sundress flying.

  I’d tried to call Edward’s phone, but there’d been no answer. I’d called the line at the Malibu cottage but there’d been no answer there, either. Why would Edward stay in California now? He wouldn’t. Then I’d suddenly had a sick feeling.

  I have a private island in the Caribbean. That’s where I’d go if I needed to escape a broken heart.... No one can get at you there, Diana. There’s no internet, no phones, no way to even get on the island except by my plane.

  I’d wanted to run out of the house in my robe and sleeping shorts. Madison had talked me into getting dressed first, in the closest clean thing that still fit me. Twisting my hair into a knot, I jumped into the sports car and drove down the road like a race car driver.

  Now, as I drove west toward the coast, the low-lying mist was growing thicker, the air cooler near the ocean. The wind felt fresh and cold against my skin as it blew over the convertible, pulling my hair out of the knot and flying it around me. I pressed on the gas.

  I had to reach Edward in time. I had to. Because if his plane took off, I feared it would be a long time before I saw him again....

  Red lights glimmered on the cars ahead of me on the highway, forcing me to push on my brakes.

  “Come on, come on,” I begged aloud, but the cars ahead just grew slower and slower until they stopped altogether. Was there an accident ahead? Someone filming a movie? A visiting political dignitary? Or was it just fate pulling Edward away from me, just when I’d finally realized what I’d lose?

  What was the point in having a fast car just to be stopped in L.A. traffic?

  I thought I could make you happy. But I can’t force you to marry me. Of course you deserve love. You deserve everything.

  Every time Edward had loved anyone, they’d abandoned him. His mother. His father. The woman in Spain. He’d learned not to trust. He’d learned words were che
ap. So he’d tried to show me he loved me, in a way more real than words.

  How had he found the courage to come to California and humbly tell me he wanted me back? What had it cost him, to try to earn back my love?

  Everything, I realized. His heart. His pride. Even his birthright.

  All of that—and he’d still let me make the decision. He’d loved me enough to let me go.

  Traffic finally picked up speed again. The sun was growing warmer, but I still felt cold, my teeth chattering as I finally arrived at the small nonpublic airport where Edward kept his private jet. He’d been here a month, I realized, and he hadn’t used it once. He’d been too busy taking care of me.

  Would I be in time?

  Driving past the gate, I parked the car helter-skelter in the tiny parking lot, leaving the convertible door open as I ran into the hangar.

  No one was there, except for a lone airplane technician looking into the engine of a small Cessna. He straightened. “Can I help you?”

  On the other side of the hangar, I heard a loud engine. Through the open garage door, I saw a jet that looked like Edward’s accelerating away, headed down the small landing strip.

  “Whose plane is that?” I begged.

  The mechanic tilted back his baseball cap. “Well now, I’m not rightly allowed to say....”

  “Edward St. Cyr,” I choked out. “It’s his plane, isn’t it? Is he headed to the Caribbean?”

  The man frowned. “How the heck did you...”

  But I was no longer listening. I took off running, as fast as a heavily pregnant woman could run, across the hangar, straight through the garage door and out onto the tarmac.

  “Wait!” I screamed, waving my arms wildly as I ran down the runway, following the plane, trying to catch it though I knew I had no hope. “Edward! Wait!”

  The roar of the engine and wind from the propellers swallowed my words, whirling the air around me, pushing me back, making me cough. I felt a sudden pain in my belly and hunched over, at the same moment that the mechanic caught up with me.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Edward!” I cried helplessly.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Get off the runway!” The man, who must have thought I was having some kind of pregnancy-related breakdown, half pulled, half carried me back to the hangar. Winded and weak and grief-stricken, I let him.

  Edward was gone. I’d lost him forever, because I’d been too much of a coward to fight for him, believe in him, when it counted. I’d let him believe that he could never earn my love, no matter how hard he tried....

  Choking out a sob, I covered my face with my hands.

  “I love you,” I whispered brokenly, sinking to the concrete floor as I said the words I’d been too scared to say to his face. “I love you, Edward....”

  “Diana?”

  Hardly daring to believe, I looked up.

  Edward stood outside the open garage door. Bright California sunshine burnished his dark hair. His face was in shadow, his posture uncertain. He’d changed from his tuxedo to a T-shirt and jeans, and his hands were in his pockets.

  On the airstrip behind him, I saw his jet, with the propellers still slowing down. The engine was loud, a blast of white noise. Was he a miracle? A dream? I wiped my eyes, but he was still there.

  “You came back....” I gasped. Rising to my feet, I stumbled across the hangar.

  “I saw you,” he breathed, his eyes hungry on mine. “And I was crazy enough to hope....”

  Hiccupping a sob, I threw my arms around his shoulders. “You came back!”

  “Of course I did.” He held me close, caressing my back. I felt the warmth and strength of his body, smelled the woodsy scent of his cologne. He touched my cheek with a fingertip and said in a voice so tender and raw it twisted my heart, “But you’re crying.”

  Taking his hand in my own, I pressed it against my cheek, looking up at him with eyes swimming in tears. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  I could feel him tremble. Then he exhaled.

  “It’s all right, Diana,” he said quietly. “You can tell me the truth. If you’re trying to be loyal to me for our baby’s sake...”

  “No!”

  “I need you to be happy.” He looked away, dropping his hand to his side. “I told myself I could marry you even if you didn’t love me. That I could earn you back, and make you love and trust me again, over time.”

  “Edward...”

  “But I can’t be the man who takes away the light that’s inside you. I can’t. I can’t condemn you to being my wife when you don’t love me. When you might love someone else.” Looking away, his jaw tightened as he said, in a voice almost too low for me to hear, “I love you too much for that.”

  “You love me,” I breathed.

  Edward gave a low, choked laugh. “And for the first time in my life I know what that means.” He looked down at me. “I would do anything for you, Diana. Anything.”

  “Even sell your shares of St. Cyr Global to your cousin.”

  He looked started. “How did you know?”

  “I called Victoria.”

  “Why?— How?”

  “I saw her going into your house last night.”

  “You did?”

  I hung my head. “You were acting so weird and secretive. I went back to ask you what was going on. Then I saw her going into your house so late, wearing that dress, and I thought the two of you...”

  “What!” He blinked in astonishment. “You thought me and Victoria...”

  “I was so scared of getting hurt again,” I whispered, feeling ashamed, “I took the first excuse to run. I’m sorry.”

  His expression darkened. “When I think of how I treated you in London, I don’t blame you.” He stroked my cheek. “I didn’t want you to feel guilty, or feel like you were under obligation, because I’d made some kind of sacrifice.... Because you were right. I hated that job. I hated the man it made me. Now I’m free.” He gave me a sudden grin. “In fact, there’s nothing to stop me from coming with you to Romania, as I’m currently unemployed....”

  Reaching up, I put my hands over his. “I don’t want to go.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “I thought being an actress was my big dream. But I never wanted to audition.” The corners of my mouth quirked. “There was a reason. Whatever my brain tried to tell me I wanted, my heart stubbornly knew it wanted something else entirely.”

  He pulled me closer, running his hands over my face, my hair, my back. “What?”

  I thought of my mother, and the life she’d lived. Hannah Maywood Lowe had never been famous or celebrated. People who didn’t know her would have thought her quite ordinary, in fact, not special at all. But she’d had a talent for loving people. Her whole life had been about taking care of her friends, her home, her community, and most of all, her family.

  “You’re my dream,” I whispered. “You and our baby. I want to go home with you. Be with you. Raise our family.” I lifted my gaze to his. “I love you, Edward.”

  He breathed in wonder, “You do?”

  “I have just one question left to ask you,” I said, smiling through my tears. I took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

  Edward staggered back. Then he gave a low shout.

  “Will I?”

  As he took me in his arms, his handsome face no longer looked thuggish or brooding or dark. Joy made him look like the boy he’d once been, like the man I’d always known he could be.

  “I love you, Diana Maywood,” he whispered, cradling my cheek. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. Starting now....”

  Pulling me against his body, he kissed me hard, until I was gasping with joy and need, clutching him to me.

  “Um,” I heard the mechani
c’s awkward mumble across the hangar, “you guys still know I’m here, right?”

  * * *

  We were married two weeks later in my mother’s rose garden. All the people we loved were there, Mrs. MacWhirter and the rest of our closest family and friends. Our wedding was nothing fancy, just a white cake, a simple dress and a minister. No twenty-carat diamond ring this time, either. Seriously, I was afraid I’d put my eye out with that thing. Instead, we gave each other plain gold bands in the double ring ceremony.

  It helps to have friends in the entertainment business. A musician friend of mine played the guitar, and a photographer friend took pictures. Madison was my bridesmaid, and Howard walked me down the aisle. As I held a simple bouquet of my mother’s favorite roses, in her garden on that beautiful, bright California morning, it was almost as if she were there, too.

  It was all perfect. The only guests were people we really loved. Rupert and Victoria sent their congratulations and a very nice blender.

  After the ceremony, when we were officially husband and wife, we held an outdoor dinner reception beneath fairy lights. Howard and Madison openly wept, throwing rose petals as Edward and I roared off in a vintage car, before jetting off to Las Vegas for our honeymoon. We spent two lovely nights at the Hermitage, a luxurious casino resort owned by Nikos Stavrakis, a friend of Edward’s, happily married himself with six children.

  Our luxurious, glamorous hotel suite overlooked all the lights of the Strip, which we mostly ignored because we were too busy discovering the joys of married sex. Holy cow. I had no idea how different it would be. How it feels to possess someone’s body when you also possess their heart and soul and name—and they have yours. There’s nothing in the world like it.

  “I’m just sorry the honeymoon has to end,” I murmured as we left Las Vegas.

  Edward looked at me. “Who says it does?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re both unemployed now.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “We can go anywhere you want. Rio. Tokyo. Venice. Istanbul. After all,” he gave a wicked grin, lifting a dark eyebrow as he said, “we do have a jet....”