you say— No, that’s not right.” Belle shook her head. Something had to be wrong with her brain because she’d thought she’d heard...
“Dad. I like the sound of that.” Jack launched to his feet, facing the doorway. “It’s good to meet you. So good.”
Dad? A tall, well-built man towered just out of reach of the light. She blinked, trying to bring the shadow into focus, but she didn’t need to see him to know his identity. Her heart leaped and tingles flickered down her spine in recognition. Tears burned behind her eyes as he strode into the light, whole and safe. Her ex-husband, more handsome than ever, and distinguished with a touch of gray in his dark hair. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been eighteen, nearly nineteen.
“Come in. It’s so good to finally meet you.” Violet dashed across the room and into her father’s arms.
“You were just a little thing when I saw you last.” Brian’s voice, still familiar after all this time, sounded tortured with emotion. He blinked dampness from his eyes as he reached out to hold his son. Jack hesitated a moment, as if he were unsure, before stepping into his father’s hug. “You were just a toddler, Jack. I would lay you on my chest and rock you until you fell asleep.”
“I don’t remember. Wish I did.” Jack swallowed, obviously wrestling with emotion as he stepped back. Only then did she notice her other children—the exact duplicates of Violet and Jack—slipping into the room. Carter hung back, watching the reunion.
There had been a lot of reunions in this family lately. There was only one more left. She straightened her spine, bracing for it, while at the same time wishing there was some way to get out of facing her ex.
“Isabella.” He choked on her name, frozen in place halfway to the bed, fisting his hands.
Maybe he was debating the merits of turning heel and leaving, so he didn’t have to deal with her. Or perhaps he was just as shocked as she was with the reality of seeing him again.
There’d been a time when she had believed she’d never be in the same room with him. That there would be no possible way. Life could sure surprise you.
“Brian.” She lifted her chin. No way was she going to let anyone know this was killing her. Put on a smile, she told herself, and welcome him. This was about the kids, not her. “You’re looking well. I’m thankful for that. We’ve all feared for you.”
“I understand the same can be said of you.” A muscle ticked along his strong jaw. Time had matured him, drew character in his face and pleasant lines around his eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
She couldn’t meet his gaze, although she could feel it sweep along her face. She tried to answer him, but words stuck in her throat and refused to budge. It wasn’t good to see him again. It was agony.
“Maybe we should leave you two alone to talk,” one of the girls suggested—maybe Maddie? Belle didn’t dare look up to see for sure. Staring at a polished fingernail—the girls had given her a manicure this morning—gave her something to do as the kids left the room, calling out promises to talk later to Brian, that they couldn’t wait to share the good news with their significant others. As their voices and footsteps faded, silence settled in—or what silence she could make out over the thump of her heart echoing in her ears.
Brain came closer, then halted again.
“You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to.” His baritone turned tender and smoky, the way it always had when it had just been the two of them.
Images assailed her—of them standing side by side at the boys’ cribs while they slept. Of Brian bringing her a steaming cup of her favorite tea while she nursed newborn Grayson, with Tanner tucked in one of his arms. And less than two years later, of the pride and stark love on his face in the delivery room when they both drank in the sight of their beautiful newborn daughters. She could still feel his kiss to her forehead, so sweet her soul ached.
“It’s fine.” She found the courage she needed to meet his gaze. A stranger’s gaze, she told herself stubbornly. That young man she’d loved—that teenager who’d stood beside her as husband and best friend—no longer existed. Just as she was no longer that same starry-eyed girl.
A lifetime separated them. And always would.
Chapter Two
“Come sit, Brian. You look pale.” Belle might be trying to hide it, but he could sense her true feelings. All she wanted was for him to turn back around and walk out of her life.
He knew the feeling. It would have been easier if he’d never walked through that door.
“The kids have been worried.” She looked toward the window instead of at him.
“I didn’t know they were searching for me.” His voice didn’t sound like his own, so raw and broken. Too vulnerable, he sank into a bedside chair. “I was out of touch longer than I planned, but I was safe and cared for.”
“You look exhausted. You always were one to work too hard.”
“I used to work hard for you, Isabella. For our kids.” He didn’t expect her to understand the pride he felt in his family when they’d been teenage parents fighting to keep their marriage together. “I never meant to let you down.”
There, he’d said it. The words he’d yearned to say since the U.S. Marshal drove her and two of their children away. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgave you long ago.” She bowed her head, not looking at him. “We both had to get on with our lives.”
“Yes.” He bowed his head, too. “Forgetting is a different matter.”
“It was easier when I knew I’d never have to see you again.”
“Easier to keep it buried.” Those feelings of failure, the mountains of regret. So much lay lost and broken between them—marriage vows, promises and the hope of raising their kids together. “We each had kids to take care of. Protecting them came first.”
“Exactly.” She lifted her head, her soft auburn hair cascading over her shoulders with a graceful bounce.
“This really must be a shock for you. Seeing me like this. The twins didn’t warn you I was coming?”
“No.” She traced her fingertips along the edging of the armchair so she didn’t have to look at him.
“I tried to prepare myself on the way here.” He cleared his throat. Time had changed her—her face had lost the round softness of youth, to be replaced by almost regal maturity that was impossibly more beautiful. But she was no longer his, and that’s the way they both wanted it. “Carter told me all about how the twins found one another and how they were praying at your bedside on Thanksgiving when you first opened your eyes and came back to them.”
“Carter is a wonderful young man. He’s so much like you—” Her honest, unguarded gaze found his. This wasn’t easy for her, either.
“I hope he doesn’t make my mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes.” Regret weighed on her, too, easy to see. “I hear you are an amazing doctor,
