Dominic could hear the rhythm of their breathing in the quiet kitchen, in sync, equally light and ragged.
She looked at him. “He used to say you’d turned your back on us. On me. That if you ever reached out, it would just be under obligation from Sebastian.”
“That wasn’t true,” he said roughly. “It was never true.”
Pet’s mouth tucked in at the side, a desperate attempt not to cry in front of him that made his chest hurt. “Mum used to keep a photo of you, did you know that? In her drawer.”
His jaw clenched.
“When I was little, I would go and look at it.” Pet pressed her thumb under her eye. “I’d tell you things.”
There was a lump in his throat, as well.
“Gerald found the photo and really kicked off right before my eighteenth birthday, right before you asked me to meet with you. Mum closed down. The whole thing was just . . . too much. So I told you I didn’t want to see you again, and I regretted it from that day forward.” She shook her head, and her eyes when she looked at him again were dark pools. “The thought of you, and Sebastian, and this bakery, was like a dream for me. This magical safe haven somewhere. A place that would be there, if I ever needed it.”
The sound she made wasn’t quite a laugh, and had nothing to do with amusement. “This thing with Patrick and Jessica—of course I wanted to know more about them, it’s romantic and tragic and beautiful, but all I really wanted was to spend time with you. To get to know you better, when it’s been so hard to do that. And to get to know Sylvie, because it was obvious that she’s going to be a big part of your future.” Pet forced the words out and they hit like spears. “I would never, ever run around spilling out information that’s going to hurt you or anyone else. I would never be careless with something like that. Honestly, I’m gutted you would ever think I would.”
He stepped forward instinctively, but she stepped back and lifted her hand. “No. Not now.”
When Aaron pushed open the kitchen door, looking harassed, she took the opportunity to escape. Making it two for two on completely alienating the most important women in his life.
He was going after her despite that cool warding-off when Aaron caught at his arm. “Sorry, Dominic,” he said, with a darting glance behind him. “I’ve said you’re busy, but she’s—”
The diminutive figure of Sylvie’s assistant Mabel steamrollered past his hapless apprentice, waving him out of her way with an attitude that strongly reminded Dominic of his cat.
She noticeably looked him up and down, and audibly sighed. Her tone was, as usual, all sweetness and light. “Look, motherfucker. You gave her space when she asked for it. Clap, clap, well done, surprisingly sensitive. But she’s had time to be and to think.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s in the Dark Forest. Move it. Your woman needs a fucking hug.”
The Dark Forest
Where two people both need a fucking hug.
Sylvie was on her feet, on her way to find him, when she heard the footsteps on the stairs.
She didn’t even question it was him.
Her Dominic Bat-Signal kicking in.
She was almost running when he strode through the door, and she flung herself at his chest. He caught her, pulling her in tightly, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“God. Dom. I’m sorry.” She buried her face in his throat, closing her eyes and breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. His jaw was prickly against her temple, but the skin under her lips was so silky. He felt hard, and warm, and sexy. He felt like home. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head against her, his hand coming up to grip her head. “Don’t” was all he said.
She could feel the damp warmth of her own breath against his neck. “It just—all hit me at once. I was totally overwhelmed.” She reached up and touched the sharp line of his cheekbone. “I hadn’t realized how much I’ve been keeping my life locked down. Safe. And suddenly, everything’s flipped upside down. Nothing’s what I thought it was, or what I expected to happen.”
He pushed back her hair from her forehead and her hand drew down his body to press against his heart. There was something hard under the fabric of his jacket, a bump in the inner pocket. Momentarily distracted, she frowned.
He realized what she was poking at, and her brows pinched closer at the change in his expression. Concern lined his face; it was joined now by caution. He hesitated, then he released her to reach inside his jacket.
Without a word, he took out a small, well-wrapped bundle and handed it to her.
With another quick glance upward, she took it and unfolded the layers of protective silk.
And for a moment, she stopped breathing.
Nestled on the cloth was a small glass deer. The Arielle Aubert sculpture from Middlethorpe Grange.
“How did you—?” The words rasped from her parched throat. She touched the deer’s head, cupped trembling fingers protectively over its fragile body.
Dominic was still very tense. He was watching her with that shrewd closeness, obviously unsure of the wisdom of this gesture. “Lady Middlethorpe is a far nicer human being than her husband. When I rang and explained that the little glass deer in her gallery would mean a great deal to someone, she was happy to sell it to me. She brought it to the bakery herself.”
He moved one shoulder in a quick jerk. “You said the deer brought back more good memories than pain, but if it’s going to make things worse, I’ll return it to her.”
Sylvie stood frozen.
Then, lifting the deer to her cheek, she lowered her head and went down to the floor. On her knees, hunching over. And she cried. Not light, polite tears. The sort of heavy, deep sobs that hadn’t wracked her body for over a decade.
Dominic was also rendered momentarily motionless. She heard him swear viciously, before he was down on his knees beside her.
“God,” he said. “My darling.”
He wrapped his arm around her head, tucked his head back against her, and they crouched there together. The lights in the trees danced around them, eerie shadows flickering around the walls.
It was a short, violent release. As the sobs dwindled to the occasional hiccup, Sylvie’s nose was running and the beginnings of a headache pressed between her brows. With her head on his shoulder, she said croakily, “I always thought you were the rigid one. Like I was this soul of spontaneity. When, really, I’ve played it so safe since Mallory died.”
“You put all your finances into a food business in London,” Dominic murmured. “That’s hardly playing it safe.”
“I don’t mean work.” She scrubbed her wrist under her eyes. “When Sugar Fair struggles, obviously the stress is huge, and it would gut me if I lost it. But it can’t . . . shatter me.”
Holding the deer close, she watched the ghostly shapes moving amidst the leaves.
“That night in the hospital, when Mallory was gone, I felt as if I’d been cut adrift. I’ve never felt out of control like that. My biggest safety net was gone.” A sharp pain in her chest. “But I had Jay. I had my friends. And I . . . kept going. I rebuilt a life. One day at a time.” She exhaled. “But I’ve realized now how much I’ve protected myself because I didn’t think my heart could survive another loss like that. And when Jay . . .”