Page 20 of The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

‘Thirty-three minutes.’ His tone was flat but his eyes were haunted. Black, brooding, bleak.

Juliette’s mouth fell open and her heart slipped from its moorings. ‘Thirty...? Oh, Joe, you mean she died having you?’

He turned away to put the lid back on the bottle of spirits, a frown pulling at his forehead. ‘It’s why I try to ignore my birthday. There’s nothing to celebrate in knowing your birth was responsible for someone’s death.’

Juliette came over to him and touched him on the arm to get him to face her. ‘I can understand how you, or anyone, would feel like that. But you mustn’t blame yourself. It could have been a medical error or—’ Even as she said the words, she realised how unfairly she had blamed him for their baby’s stillbirth. Guilt was a heavy stone in her belly—crushing, punishing guilt.

He removed her hand from his arm. ‘Look, I know you mean well but I’d rather not talk about it right now.’ He rubbed a hand down his face, the rasping sound against his stubble loud in the silence. He let out a long breath and added, ‘Why are you here? Have you changed your mind about Paris? It’s next weekend. Don’t forget—no divorce without it.’

The divorce papers could wait. Handing them to him on his birthday seemed a bit crass, considering the circumstances. Besides, her feelings of remorse were so overwhelming she didn’t want to do anything she would regret later. She had enough regrets. As for Paris... Would it hurt her to go with him? Maybe it would help both of them find some measure of peace going forward.

‘I’m not just here about the divorce. I wanted to come anyway...for another reason.’

Joe took a bottle of water out of the bar fridge and unscrewed the cap, his gaze watchful. ‘Which is?’

‘Erm...research for my next book.’ It was a lie but she could make it true by doing a few sketches while she was here. That was if he hadn’t thrown out her art materials. She had taken virtually nothing with her when she’d left. And he hadn’t sent any of her things on to her. She couldn’t possibly leave him tonight, not on his birthday. At first, she’d thought he was properly drunk, but she realised now he was in a brooding mood and tired. As if he hadn’t slept in weeks. And he looked like he’d lost weight—his cheeks were hollow and fine lines ran down either side of his mouth.

He moved past her and sat on one of the sofas, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He took a couple of mouthfuls of water, his gaze tracking back to her as if he couldn’t help himself. ‘How long do you plan to stay in Italy?’

Juliette sat on the opposite sofa and placed her hands on her thighs. ‘I haven’t decided. I thought I’d see how I go... It’s been a while since I’ve drawn anything—I might not be able to do it any more...’

Joe took another mouthful of water and then his gaze locked back on hers. ‘Where are you staying?’ There was a guarded note in his tone.

‘I booked a small hotel down near Fornillo Beach.’

His jaw worked for a moment. ‘Are you with anyone?’

‘No.’

Silence ticked past.

Juliette tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear for something to do with her hands. She felt restless and on edge, uncertain of how to behave around him. Way too tempted to behave in ways that would make a mockery of the legal document in her overnight bag, still on the floor in the foyer. She wished she had the courage to walk behind the sofa where he was seated and massage his tense neck and shoulders like she used to do.

Joe leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and closed his eyes. ‘I’ll let you see yourself out.’

She was being dismissed.

A wall had come up and she was on the wrong side of it. But something kept her seated on the sofa, something kept her gaze focused on the lines and planes of his face, something breathed life into a dead place deep inside her heart. Juliette felt the stirring in her chest, the slow unfurling of closed wings, the gentle flap of hope coming to life. Hope that their relationship might not be in its last throes but had the potential to rise again.

But better this time.

She hadn’t taken the time to get to know him in the past. Her shock pregnancy had propelled them too fast into marriage without the appropriate getting-to-know-you lead-up. And the devastation of losing their baby had blinded her to the things that had worked well in their relationship. Could they possibly build on those things?

‘Joe?’

He cracked open one eye. ‘What?’ His one word, somewhat sharp reply wasn’t encouraging but Juliette was starting to realise he was probably feeling uncomfortable with her seeing him in less than ideal circumstances. He felt vulnerable and unguarded and for such a control captain that was anathema.

Juliette glanced in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Do you mind if I make myself a cup of tea?’

‘Go for it.’

‘Do you want one?’

One side of his mouth tilted in a bad boy smile. ‘I’m not ready to be a teetotaller.’

‘I know you’re not drunk. You’re only pretending to be.’

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and lowered his head into his hands. ‘I didn’t ask you to come here. I’d rather not have an audience right now.’ The keep away quality in his tone didn’t daunt her. Not now she knew how vulnerable and exposed he felt.

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