into each other’s eyes again like this.
As the distance between them slowly disappeared and their lips touched.
That door in the wall in her heart had been so well hidden she hadn’t even realised she was leaning right against it until it fell open with their combined weight.
And the other side was a magic place where scars didn’t matter.
Where they could be touched by someone else. Kissed, even, and it wasn’t shameful. Or terrifying.
It was real. Raw. And heartbreakingly beautiful.
No. It wasn’t ‘someone else’ who could have done this.
It could only have been Charles.
THE SOFT TRILL advertising an incoming text message on his phone woke Charles.
It could have been from anyone. One of his siblings, perhaps. Or a message from work to warn him that there was a situation requiring his input.
But he knew it was from Grace.
He just knew...
And, in that moment of knowing, there was a profound pleasure. Excitement, even. An instant pull back into the astonishing connection they had rediscovered last night that was still hovering at the edges of his consciousness as he reached sleepily for the phone on his bedside table.
Okay, he’d broken rule number one, not only by allowing female companionship to progress to this level but by allowing it to happen under his own roof and not keeping it totally separate from his home life—and his children.
And he’d broken an even bigger, albeit undefined, rule, by doing it with someone that he had a potentially important emotional connection to.
Had he been blindsided, because that connection had already been there and only waiting to be uncovered and that meant he hadn’t been able to make a conscious choice to back off before it was even a possibility?
Maybe his undoing had been the way her story had touched his heart. That someone as clever and warm and beautiful as Grace could have been made to believe that she didn’t deserve to be loved.
Whatever had pushed him past his boundaries, it had felt inevitable by the time he’d led Grace to his bed. And everything that had happened after that was a blurred mix of sensation and emotion that was overwhelming, even now.
Physically, it had been as astonishing as that first time. Exquisite. But there had been more to it this time. So much more. The gift of trust that she’d given him. The feeling that the dark place in his soul had been flooded with a light he’d never expected to experience again after Nina had died. Had never wanted to experience again because he knew what it was like when it got turned off?
It was early, with only the faintest suggestion of the approaching day between the gap of curtains that had been hastily pulled. Grace would be at work already, though. Her early shift had been the reason she hadn’t stayed all night and Charles hadn’t tried to persuade her. The twins might be far too young to read anything into finding Grace and Horse in their apartment first thing in the morning but what if they dropped an innocent bombshell in front of their grandparents, for instance, during the family’s Thanksgiving dinner tonight?
He wasn’t ready to share any of this.
It was too new—this feeling of an intimate connection, when you could get a burst of pleasure from even the prospect of communication via text.
He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it himself yet, so he certainly didn’t want the opinions of anyone else—like his parents or his siblings. This was very private.
There was only one other person on the planet who could share this.
Can’t believe I left without doing the dishes again. I owe you one. xx
For a moment Charles let his head sink into his pillow again, a smile spreading over his face. He loved Grace’s humour. And how powerful two little letters could be at the end of a message. Not one kiss, but two...
Powerful letters.
Even more powerful feelings.
They reminded him of the heady days of falling in love with Nina, when they couldn’t bear to be apart. When they were the only two people in the world that mattered.
Was that what was happening here?
Was he falling in love with Grace?
His smile faded. The swirling potentially humorous responses to her text message vanished. He’d known that he would never fall in love again. He’d known that from the moment Nina’s life had ebbed away that terrible day and he hadn’t given it a second thought since. That part of his life had simply been dismissed as he’d coped with what had been important. His babies. And his work.
It had been a very long time before his body reminded him that there were other needs that could be deemed of importance. That was when rule number one had been considered and then put into place.
And he’d broken it.
Without giving any thought to any implications.
The jarring sound of his phone starting to ring cut through the heavy thoughts pressing down and suffocating the pleasure of any memories of last night. His heart skipped a beat with what felt like alarm as he glanced at the screen.
But it wasn’t Grace calling. It was his mother.
At this time of the day?
‘Mom...what’s up? Is everything all right?’
‘Maybe you can tell me, Charles. Who is she?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m reading the New York Post. Page six...’
Of course she was. Anyone who was anyone in New York turned to page six first, either to read about someone they knew or about themselves. It was a prime example of the gossip columns that Charles hated above everything else. The kind that had almost destroyed his family once as people fed on every juicy detail that the Davenport scandal had offered. The kind that had made getting through the tragedy of losing his wife just that much harder as the details of their fairy-tale romance and wedding were pored over again. The kind that had made him keep his own life as private as possible ever since in his determination to protect his sons.
‘Why now?’ Vanessa continued. ‘Really, Charles. We could do without another airing of the family’s dirty laundry. Especially today, with it being Thanksgiving.’
He was out of bed now, clad only in his pyjama pants as he headed into the living area. His laptop was on the dining table, already open. It took only a couple of clicks to find what his mother was referring to.
The photograph was a shock. How on earth had a journalist got hold of it when it had been taken only yesterday—on Grace’s phone?
But
