Page 54 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
So, I said the only thing I could say, repeating myself for the second time in as many minutes.
“Come home, Zara.”
***
Beth pressed her lips together. “Thank you for not telling her.”
I sighed and offered her a tight smile. “It’s not my news to share,” I said honestly. “Although I do think she’s put two and two together.”
“I agree. I was just so tired last night. I’m seven weeks now, and I guess the lights really took it out of me.” She looked into her mug of tea. “If she’s guessed, she’s guessed. It’s really not your fault.”
“I feel like it is.”
“Thomas, it’s not.” Beth smiled at me. “If I knew she’d call me again, I’d have waited up for her. Thank you for letting me sleep and for putting my car away.”
“It was the least I could do. And don’t worry about getting out—the groundskeepers have already been by and cleared the driveway.”
She nodded her thanks. “Did she… say when she was coming home?”
Guilt twisted my stomach.
Why the fuck was I feeling guilty? I wasn’t the one who’d essentially abandoned my family.
“No,” I said after a moment. “I’m sorry, Beth. I only told her to come home, and we didn’t speak after that.”
“That’s fine. I might just have to tell her on the phone.” She pressed her lips together in a sad smile. “If it brings her home for Danny, it brings her home.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to her, but I wasn’t sure any of them were particularly appropriate.
“I need to get to work.” She put down her mug and stood up, then walked towards the door. “Thanks, Tom.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except for a soft, “Drive safe.”
After all these years, she’d never called me Tom. Only Thomas.
To be honest, Zara was the only one who used that nickname. Danny chose Uncle Tommy because it sounded like his name in his little mind, and I was more than fine with that. That was something for us and, I hoped, my future niece or nephew.
I leant back in the armchair and closed my eyes. I had to get a move on since I had a meeting with our accountant to go over this month’s payroll, but I was exhausted. Between trying to hash out my feelings around Sylvie and my family drama, there wasn’t much left in me to give.
That was without considering Christmas.
Sylvie.
Shit.
The bloody woman had taken up residence in my head. She’d set up camp, complete with tent and sleeping bag and portable charge bricks. No matter what I did, I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind.
I couldn’t believe she’d karate chopped my fucking arm, and she’d smiled while she’d done it.
I rubbed my hand down my face. Fuck. I hadn’t laughed last night, but I couldn’t help it now. Of all the things she could have done, that was not what I was expecting. Yet somehow it seemed so in character for her—I was shocked, but not surprised.
Sylvie had always been somewhat of a force of nature, and from what I could see, she really hadn’t changed a bit.
I couldn’t believe she hadn’t forgiven me.
I really hadn’t meant to cut her face open with that cricket ball. My ten-year-old arse had not realised just howhardthe cricket ball was as I had no interest in the game as a kid, so I really hadn’t known exactly what I was throwing at her. I’d thought it was soft, and it wasn’t like I’d aimed for her face.
Alas, I could see how me throwing it at her forehead might have meant she harboured a little resentment against me.
