Page 26 of The Return of Her Billionaire Husband

Joe brought his hand to her face, blotting her tears with the pad of his thumb. His eyes were dry but pained. ‘My whole career has been based on fixing things that are broken. Finding why things that shouldn’t have failed, failed. But I couldn’t fix any of this for us.’

Juliette put her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. ‘I’m glad we’re able to be so honest with each other now. It helps me to know I’m not the only one who feels so undone by what’s happened.’

His hand stroked the back of her head in gently soothing strokes that made the last of the armour around her heart melt away. ‘I wish I’d been there to support you better. There’s so much I would like to have done differently.’ His deep voice rumbled against her cheek—full of low, deep chords of regret and self-recrimination.

‘It might have been different if we had known each other better at the time,’ Juliette said, glancing up at him. ‘I mean, if we’d had a normal period of dating before we married. I feel like I’m only getting to know you now.’ When it was too late. Or was it?

He glanced at the tea tray with a wry expression. ‘I’m trying to decide whether to feed you breakfast or give you a kiss first.’

Juliette linked her arms around his neck and smiled. ‘Just one kiss?’

His eyes smouldered and he gathered her closer. ‘Why stop at one?’

And he didn’t.

* * *

A couple of days before the Paris trip, Joe came in to the morning room where Juliette was sketching. He had been on a lengthy Skype call in his study. ‘Sorry that took so long,’ he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Hey, it’s great to see you sketching again.’ He picked up one of her earlier sketches—one of him sleeping—and frowned. ‘I look so relaxed.’ He put the sketch back down.

Juliette swivelled on her chair to look up at him. Something in his expression sent off a distracted vibe. A subtle distance in his gaze. A slight disturbance in his tone.

‘Is everything okay? Has something come up with work?’

‘I’ve been thinking about this Paris thing.’

Juliette straightened in her seat, unsure what to make of his expression. ‘You still want me to go...don’t you?’

‘I shouldn’t have pressured you into going. I can go alone if you don’t feel up to being social.’

Juliette rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around her middle, uncertain of what to make of his seeming reluctance to have her accompany him. Was he wary of being out in public with her in case people read more into their relationship than was true? After all, they weren’t officially reconciled. They were having a break-up fling. Did he want to keep their involvement with each other out of the press? Or was there some other reason?

She turned her back to him and stared at the view of the ocean below the steep slopes, with their collection of old and luxury villas and the vivid splashes of colour and greenery. ‘Are you worried I might say or do something I shouldn’t? That I might disgrace you in some way?’

Joe came over to her and placed his hands on the top of her tense shoulders. He turned her around to face him, his expression etched in lines of concern. ‘No. I’m worried people will make you feel uncomfortable. You know how it works at these gatherings. You get stuck next to someone who wants to know every detail about your life or tell you every detail of theirs.’ He made a husky, clearing his throat sound and added, ‘I know it’s a fundraiser for stillbirth research and counselling services but people can still ask intrusive questions. I don’t want you to be hurt by someone asking you about things you’d rather not talk about.’

Juliette’s heart gave a funny little flutter-spasm.

He was concerned about her. He wanted to protect her.

She had done her usual jumping to conclusions by thinking he was somehow ashamed of her, worried she might drink too much and humiliate him. But it was nothing to do with any of that.

He genuinely cared about her.

She put her hands on his chest, her lower body flush against his. ‘I’ve avoided a lot of social events for exactly that reason. What if someone asks me if I have any children? Or plan to try again? What am I supposed to say? Am I even allowed to call myself a mother when I didn’t give birth to a live baby?’

Joe framed her face in his hands, his gaze tender as it meshed with hers. ‘You will always be Emilia’s mother. No one can take that away from you. No one.’

Tears stung her eyes and a lump formed in her throat. ‘Y-you said her name...’

Joe stroked his thumbs across each of her cheeks in a slow soothing motion. ‘Maybe some time in the future it won’t hurt so much to say it. To think of her.’

‘Maybe...’ Juliette sighed and leaned her cheek against his chest. ‘They say time is a great healer, but how much time?’

‘As long as it takes, I guess.’

There was a small silence, broken only by the sound of his hand stroking the back of her head and their quiet breathing.

It was an enormous comfort to her that he felt the same sense of loss. She had unfairly assumed he was less affected because he hadn’t been the one to carry the baby, to physically give birth, and that he hadn’t been there to witness the birth. But she realised now his expression of grief was different from hers.

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