How Sweet It Is (23 page)

“So.” Chloe pulled out a stool next to him. “Do you have a date with Mum today?”

“No.” He didn’t want to tell Chloe what had happened, so he just said, “I came to say goodbye.”

Her eyes widened, and she lowered her biscuit. “You’re leaving? Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“My work is done.” He shrugged. “It’s time for me to go home.”

Chloe stared at him, her eyes especially piercing through her dark makeup. Finally, she declared, “I don’t believe you.”

That was because she was smart. “What’s not to believe? I said I was going home after I finished my commission.”

The teenager pursed her lips. “I thought you liked Mum.”

He did—until she sold him out. He lifted his glass so he wouldn’t have to answer.

“So you’ve come to say goodbye,” the girl stated. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

She took his dishes away, even though he still had milk in his glass. He didn’t need a clue to know she was disappointed in him. It was clear in her bright blue eyes.

Chapter Twenty-six

Viola tapped her foot, waiting for the doctor to come back into her office. It was taking forever, which was precisely why she hadn’t wanted to come in—especially today when she had so much to get accomplished.

Right at this moment, Sebastian and Rowdy were hanging the pieces on the wall. She’d wanted to be there for that, but she told herself it wasn’t a big deal. She’d be there later to check the positioning and the lighting she’d had set up.

The doctor came back in, smiling, a file in her hand. “Everything’s quite normal, Viola.”

Vi wilted in relief, because she’d been worried. She thought she’d had the flu, but after she’d gotten better she’d had another bout of sickness. Something hadn’t felt right inside her, which was why she finally gave in to Bea and Chloe and came in. “I’m just getting sick because of stress, aren’t I?”

“That, and because you’re pregnant.” The doctor handed her a piece of paper. “It’s morning sickness, which often happens at different times of the day.”

“Pregnant.” Viola gripped the paper unseeingly, her head swimming.
Pregnant.

“That’s the test result, which isn’t completely accurate this early in your pregnancy, I should warn you.”

Hope! She sat up. “So this could be a mistake?”

“I need to say it could be, but based on my experience I have no doubts that you’re pregnant.”

“How is that possible?” She pressed her palms to her forehead. “I’m on the pill.”

“No birth control is a hundred percent effective each time.”

Great.

Pregnant.
She swallowed. “I’m having another baby.”

“Yes.” The doctor smiled.

“But I had my baby. I’m starting a business. I’m starting a new phase in life.”

“Your new phase is going to include another baby.” The doctor frowned. “Unless you don’t want the child.”

She hugged her stomach, instinctively protecting it. She couldn’t give the baby up. “That’s not an option.”

The doctor sat back, nodding. “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you take a little time to let the idea of it settle in. Talk to the father. I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

Finn? She tried to laugh but choked on it. Finn wasn’t going to be happy at all.

Leaving the doctor’s office, she walked bundled against the cold all the way to her gallery. She’d hoped the cold would clear her head and make everything seem better. It didn’t, but it didn’t make her feel worse either, so there was that.

The smell of paint clung to the gallery. The baby protested it, and Vi immediately opened the doors to clear it out.

Baby. She pressed her palm to her belly. Maybe she should have known, but it’d been so long since she was pregnant with Chloe. She’d been so young.

She was going to have a teenager when she was in her fifties.

Groaning, she put a hand over her eyes.

“You okay, babe?”

She looked up as Rowdy and Sebastian carried a painting from the back. She tried to smile. “Yes, of course. Do you need help?”

“Nah,” Rowdy said as they hung it in the designated spot. “We got this.”

“Your gallery is coming together,” Sebastian said as they lifted the painting to hook it on its mooring on the wall. “It looks pretty good, don’t you think?”

“It does.” She circled slowly to look at everything they’d accomplished. She should have been thrilled and excited. Instead she just felt like vomiting.

“And the interview came out today,” Sebastian continued, obviously not noticing that she’d turned green. “You sounded great. I think it’ll go a long way toward driving business. I was even thinking that maybe you could write a weekly or monthly art column for one of the publications here. I bet if—”

“That’s sounds great,” she interrupted as another whiff of paint fumes assaulted her. She couldn’t do this today. “You men seem to have this under control. I’m going home to … do other things,” she ended lamely.

Rowdy and Sebastian exchanged a look. “You sure you’re okay, Vi?” Rowdy asked.

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” Rowdy raised his brows in disbelief. “Before you go, Ms. Picture of Health, you should know that fancy chick from Harrods was here looking for you.”

Fancy chic from Harrods … “Jasmine?”

“Is Jasmine the hot one?”

“Yes.”

“Yep, that was her. She was stressy. I offered to help her relax, but she turned her attitudinal nose up and walked out.” Rowdy shrugged. “Go figure.”

A wave of nausea assaulted her, so she just mumbled something, waving over her shoulder as she left the gallery before she got sick right there and then had to explain that she’s just pregnant, not dying. She’d figure out what Jasmine wanted later.

Pregnant. She lowered her head onto the steering wheel. How had this happened?

She drove home in a fog, not quite sure how she arrived there. As she let herself inside, Schrödinger jogged around the corner to say hello. She reached down to scratch his back. He turned around and trotted toward the kitchen. He looked back and barked once.

Obviously he was telling her where Chloe was, and she was supposed to follow.

“I’m coming, Schrödinger.” She set her purse on the table in the hallway. Maybe it’d been that night Finn had made love to her on it that had made their baby.

Their baby
.

She swallowed thickly, wrapping an arm around herself. She tried to picture what it’d be like. There were things she’d definitely do differently with this one. She’d dance more, and she’d get this one a puppy from the start, if she or he wanted one. They’d set up a room with painting supplies, and Finn would teach their child art, the way his uncle had taught him.

What if Finn wanted to raise the baby in Paris?

They could compromise, she told herself. Part-time there, part-time in London. Her family was here, and Chloe would likely stay here to go to uni. It just made sense.

It’d all work out.

She laughed.
A baby
.

Still smiling, she was surprised to find Chloe and Finn in the kitchen together. It warmed her heart, seeing how easily they got along.

Chloe looked up, her expression distressed. “Finn’s leaving.”

The bottom fell out of her stomach. She pulled out the closest chair and sat down, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She glanced at the table, seeing the mermaid he’d given her last time before they’d parted. She hugged her belly. This time he was leaving her a grander creation.

“You finished your commission.” She waited for panic to overcome her, but all she felt was inevitability. She knew this day would come. She’d just hoped he’d like her enough to stay. “When are you coming back?”

“I don’t plan to come back.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Chloe stood up without being asked. “Come on, Schrödinger. Let’s go upstairs.”

Vi watched her daughter leave, waiting until she heard their footsteps disappear up the stairs before facing Finn. “I don’t believe you.”

“And I shouldn’t have believed
you
.” Standing, he came over and dropped a paper in front of her.

“What is this?” She opened it to see the interview she gave. Frowning, she scanned it over. “I still don’t understand.”

“Look closer.” He crossed his arms and waited, stony and implacable.

Shaking her head, she looked again. At the end of the interview it listed the names of the artists featured in her show, and at the end of the list it said Phineas Buchanan.

Oh no
. She covered her mouth with the hand. How had this happened?

The placement chart she’d given Sebastian. She put her hand to her forehead, feeling lightheaded. She must have forgotten to erase his name when she’d been brainstorming. “This is a mistake. It’s my fault, but it’s not what it seems. Your name shouldn’t have been in here.”

“So you never had any intention of showing my art?”

She winced, thinking about the one blank wall she’d been saving in case he changed his mind and acquiesced.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice hard and cold.

Shivering, she pulled her sweater closer. “I admit that I don’t agree with you about hiding your artwork from the world, but I respect your decision and understand why you’re doing it. I’d never compromise that.”

“But you have, haven’t you?”

“So you’re just going to leave? You’re going to use this as an excuse to go back to Paris?”

His brow furrowed. “I was always going back to Paris. We were both aware of the score.”

Yes, but she’d hoped he’d care enough about her to stay. She wrapped her arms around her waist, swallowing back a wave of sickness.

“How are you feeling?” he asked suddenly. “Chloe said you went to the doctor because you’d had a relapse.”

“I’m fine,” she said, knowing she would be, even if right now her heart hurt this badly.

“Did the doctor say what it was?”

“It’s a passing thing,” she said as honestly as she could.

“The flu? Or stress?”

It was the perfect opening to tell him they were having a baby. And maybe he’d stay.

But she didn’t want that. He’d resent her if she told him now, and he’d stay out of duty rather than desire. He deserved to know—and she’d tell him—just not now. If he wasn’t going to stay for her, she didn’t want him to stay. She’d lived with Charles unhappily for years, for Chloe’s sake, and that hadn’t done anyone any good. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.” He frowned, as if the idea displeased him as well. “Morning.”

She turned her head so he wouldn’t see the rush of sadness in her eyes. Her gaze caught the mermaid on the table, and she felt her heart break.

Clearing her throat, she straightened the collar on his coat. “You’ll want to go then, I’m sure, and I was on my way to take a bath anyway.”

He frowned. “Are you still under the weather?”

She shook her head. “Just tired. It was a long day at the gallery,” she lied. She hesitated, and then said, “I don’t expect you to believe me, but your name printed in that article really was an oversight on my part.”

He said nothing, watching her with that gaze that was as hard as it was unforgivable.

Of course it was, because he thought she’d sold him out. Knowing nothing she could say would make a difference when his mind was set against her, she reached up on her toes to kiss him softly. “Thank you for the time you spent with us. It was”—she struggled for the right word, but ended up just saying—“nice.”

Stepping back, she looked behind her so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Let yourself out,” she said as she rushed upstairs. She couldn’t bear to watch him walk away.

Before she got to her room, she heard the front door close. She managed to make it to the bathroom just in time before she got sick.

***

The paintings lined the freshly painted walls, hung exactly the way that Viola had envisioned. She straightened one of the frames, even though it wasn’t really crooked, just because she could.

Because this was hers.

“This is cool,” Chloe said, turning in a circle. “I like the feel of it.”

She went and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “It tells a nice story, doesn’t it?”

At that, they both looked at the black wall in the middle, completely void of anything, except bold white letters saying REBIRTH.

The title mocked her.

“What’s going there?” Chloe asked.

She sighed. “You want the truth?”

Her daughter nodded.

“I don’t know. I wanted to put one of Finn’s paintings there.” Her heart broke all over again, thinking about what had happened. She put a hand over her stomach, swallowing back her regret. “He doesn’t sell his work normally, but I thought maybe he’d let me, especially when he came to London. And then I accidentally left his name on my artist list without getting his approval.”

Chloe frowned. “Is that why he left?”

“Mostly, I think.”

“That’s harsh.” She faced her, hands on her hips. “Did you try and explain to him?”

Viola nodded. “He was understandably upset. In his mind, I betrayed his trust.”

Her daughter got the Summerhill set to her jaw. “He should have listened. He didn’t have to run away.”

Smiling a little, she ran her hand down her fierce girl’s back. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head stubbornly. “You like each other, you’re supposed to fight to be together. Celia and Marco were supposed to kill each other but even they managed to figure out a way to be together.”

Viola frowned. “Who are Celia and Marco?”

“In
The Night Circus
.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s a book.”

“Oh, good, because for a moment it sounded like your friends were in rival gangs.”

Chloe rolled her eyes again. “Really, Mother.”

Smiling, she tugged her daughter’s hair.

The teenager frowned. “What’s
he
doing here?”

She turned around to see Charles getting out of his car in front of the gallery.

“Quick.” Viola grabbed Chloe’s hand and led her to the back. “We can sneak out the back. I locked the front door.”

Chloe grinned. “Well done, you.”