Let him sign and be done with it. Or go and have it out with him. Whether he wanted to or not.
Where? She had no idea if he’d even gone in to work yesterday afternoon.
She could always go to his house. If she knew where that was. She realised she didn’t have a clue where he lived.
But she knew someone who did.
* * *
Max circled his living room for what seemed like the hundredth time, trying to find some kind of peace with his decision. If he could leave the country, as he had three years ago, he would. But he had a contract to fulfil, and he was dead tired of running.
He loved Annabelle. More than life itself.
But the thought of standing by a second time while she destroyed her health and more over a dream that was never going to come true was a knife to the heart. That time she’d retained fluid and had been so sick, he’d been afraid he was going to lose her. It had all turned into one huge ball of misery. The empty promises from fertility doctors. The tears. The torment. There had been no holy grail. No miracle.
And when she’d finally realised he was serious that last time? She’d told him to leave. Had sent him packing, cutting him off from the only real and good thing he’d ever known. And he’d been willing to walk away to make it all stop.
His statement about there being no miracle wasn’t entirely true. There had been. But it hadn’t been in what he or any of the doctors could give to Anna. It was what Anna had given to him: a love like none he’d ever known.
And what had he done? He’d thrown it away a second time. Because he’d been afraid.
Could he undo the things he’d said? Maybe, but how did he convince her to be happy with what she had? With him?
A cold hand clutched his chest. Was that what it had been? Had he been jealous of her attempts to have a child?
No. He could answer that honestly. That wasn’t his reason for walking out on her yesterday. And yes, even though he hadn’t physically left the vicinity, he had walked away from the burgeoning hope of a new beginning.
And for what?
For a few careless words uttered in a bathroom? Had he really stopped to listen to what she was saying, or had he simply assumed she was headed down the same old path?
The problem was, he hadn’t actually heard her out, he’d simply blurted out that he didn’t want children and that he wanted to finalise the divorce.
Was she waiting for him to sign the papers? Was she even now informing her solicitor to finish what she’d started?
His throat tightened until it was difficult to breathe. She should. She should leave him far behind and forget all about him.
But he didn’t want her to.
So what should he do?
Probably what he should have done three years ago. Stand in front of her and listen to her heart, rather than issue ultimatums. Hear what it was she wanted out of life. If it came out that they wanted completely different things, then he could walk away with no regrets. It was just that Max wasn’t so sure they did. They had worked together—had loved together—in a way that had made him hope that this time might be the charm.
Weren’t those almost the exact same words that Annabelle had said in that bathroom?
Yes.
So why was he standing here wondering if he’d done the right thing? He needed to find her and pray that he wasn’t too late.
Opening his wardrobe, he grabbed a leather jacket and headed towards the front door. He could always camp in front of Baby Hope’s hospital room and wait for Annabelle to show up. Because if he knew one thing about the woman it was that she loved that baby. She had fought for the infant’s survival time after time. Maybe it was time that someone—him—decided to fight for Annabelle.
Just as he reached for the doorknob his bell rang, startling the hell out of him.
He frowned. Come on. I really need a break here.
Wrenching the door open to tell whoever it was that he didn’t have time for chit-chat, he was shocked to find the person he’d just been thinking about standing on his front mat.
No. That couldn’t be right.
He forced his gaze to pull the image into sharp focus. Still the same.
‘Anna?’ Her eyes looked red, and she carried a packet under her arm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No. No, I’m not, actually.’ She took a deep breath and then held up an envelope. ‘But I brought my copy of the divorce papers. If you have yours, you can sign them, and I’ll take them both to my solicitor.’
His throat clogged with emotion. He was too late. He’d brought the axe down on something that could have made him happy for the rest of his life. He should tell her he wasn’t going to sign them, that it wasn’t what he wanted at all, but somehow the words wouldn’t form.
Because she was going to leave him all over again.
It’s not like you didn’t tell her to.
‘Are you going to ask me in?’
Realising she was standing in the cold, he took a step back, motioning her inside his cottage.
‘Let me take your coat and hat.’
Annabelle shed both items, handing the gear to him, but retaining her hold of the envelope. ‘Thank you.’
He led her into the living room and made her a cup of tea, while she perched on the couch, the packet resting across the knees of her jeans. He wanted to take it from her and toss it into the gas fireplace he’d switched on, but hadn’t he decided to listen to her heart? To hear her out without jumping to any conclusions?
But she said he could sign his copy of the papers right there in front of her.
If he wanted to.
He waited until she’d had her second sip of tea before wading into the waters. ‘You didn’t have to bring your copy. I have one of my own.’
He couldn’t imagine saying anything more stupid than that.
‘I know. But I wanted to come by and get a few things off my chest. In person.’
Taking a gulp of his coffee and feeling the scald as it went down his throat, he paused to let her talk.
Reaching deep into her handbag, she pulled out a notebook. Max recognised the green floral cover and immediately stiffened. Why did she even still have that?
‘When I was packing my things to come to Cheltenham, I found this, and realised the enormity of the mistake I’d made all those years ago. Keeping this a secret was wrong on so many levels.’ Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. ‘What I said in the bathroom had nothing to do with this. I meant the words as a joke, but they backfired horribly and ended up shooting me in
