The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

She inhaled a shaky breath, her hands lifting to her stomach and cradling the small mound. Her face wore a composed expression, but her gaze, fixed somewhere over his shoulder...was stricken. Bruised.

“About a week after Carlin died,” she whispered, “I found the bag in the garbage. Mom had thrown the hair out. At first, I left it. But later that night, when my parents were asleep, I snuck into the kitchen and dug it out of the trash. I hid it under my mattress. I don’t know why. At the time, I told myself it was to keep my sister near. But now, I think I did it because even then I subconsciously knew Mom had thrown it away out of pain, grief. She couldn’t open her dresser drawer and constantly be reminded of the child she’d lost. One day, though, when the good days eventually outweighed the bad, and she didn’t sob at pictures or memories of her daughter, she might regret throwing that bag away. So, I saved it for her. And years later, I don’t remember why I looked under my mattress, but the bag was gone. I don’t know exactly when Mom found it—the week before or years before—but I went to her room, looked in the dresser, and there was the bag. Back where it belonged.”

Her eyes shifted, focused on him. How had he believed himself numb? Staring into that ruined gaze, he was seared by the—Jesus, what was it? Not something as simple as pain... No. Heartbreak. God, yes. The utter heartbreak in those beautiful eyes. It churned his gut, screwed it so tight he clenched his teeth against the heated shimmer of anger, against the need to protect her.

“Sydney,” he whispered.

She shot up a hand, palm out, warding him off. “Don’t,” she murmured. “I’m okay. I only told you that so hopefully one day you’ll look in the mirror, like my mom did, and not just see loss. Maybe you’ll let your hair grow back because you’ll remember how much Tonia loved it. I—” She briefly closed her eyes and pressed her thumb and finger to them. “I should head back,” she said, dropping her arm to her side, again not looking at him.

He’d done this—placed this distance, this discomfort between them. Inadvertently, yes, but the blame still sat on his shoulders.

It’s for the best.

Possibly, he silently agreed with the soft warning that coasted through his mind. But they were friends. Or on the verge of being friends. And he couldn’t allow her to walk away like...this.

“Sydney,” he tried again.

And again, she shut him down.

“Thank you for the walk and the...” She pinched her forehead, breathing out a low, harsh chuckle. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

With a taut smile that barely curved her lips and came nowhere near reaching her eyes, she strode past him. He didn’t turn around and watch her leave. Instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Capturing the sultry, warm scent of orchids. Listening for her soft footfalls on the grass. Soon enough, both disappeared.

And as he followed, moments later, returning to his office, he convinced himself the hollow pit inside wasn’t loneliness.

After all, he’d become an expert at lying to himself.

CHAPTER NINE

SYDNEY EXHALED HEAVILY as she pulled open the door to her father’s clinic. The twisting in her stomach had nothing to do with her baby’s active movements—which had steadily increased in the two weeks since she’d last seen the doctor—but with her reason for being here.

Today she’d find out if she was having a boy or girl.

Joy spilled through her, effervescent like the lightest champagne. And if underneath that feeling nerves bubbled, well they were expected and couldn’t temper her happiness.

She stepped into the coolness of the lobby out of the early afternoon heat, and walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

The pretty young blonde who’d checked her out after her first meeting with Dr. Prioleau greeted her with a smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Collins.”

“Afternoon.” Sydney nodded, returning the smile and the kindness. “And please, call me Sydney. With my mom coming around here, Ms. Collins might get a little confusing.”

The blonde, whose desk plate identified her as Lauren Grahame, grinned wider. “All right, Sydney. You filled out paperwork last time, so all I need is your co-pay.”

“Sure thing.”

Sydney dug into the purse she had slung sideways around her neck and handed the receptionist her credit card. While waiting for her to run the payment, Sydney glanced at her watch and frowned. Then plucked her phone out of her overalls and checked the lock screen. No missed calls. She’d asked Leo to come with her to the appointment, and her friend had happily agreed. But one o’clock had passed by ten minutes ago, and she still hadn’t arrived and hadn’t called or left a message. Maybe Leo was running behind.

Just as she tucked the phone back in her pocket, a nurse opened the connecting door and announced Sydney’s name.

“Great timing,” Lauren said, handing Sydney her card.

“Thanks.” Sydney smiled. “A friend is supposed to meet me here for the appointment. When she arrives, could you just show—”

“I’m here.”

Surprise crackled through her, and she stiffened, her hands freezing over the front pocket of her purse.

Several things Sydney knew for certain.

The finale to Game of Thrones sucked.

Lisa Bonet went to bed every night with a smile on her face.

And that voice definitely did not belong to Leontyne Dennison.

Hands still clutching her purse, she slowly turned around.

And came face-to-face with Cole.

Nope. Not Leo. In her place stood the Dennison Sydney had been avoiding for the last week and a half. Their encounter outside the ice cream shop and then at The Glen had been such an emotional roller coaster, she’d walked away craving mood stabilizers. And wine. And a good, long, ugly cry. A cry she couldn’t blame on her pregnancy hormones but on the pain and grief of the past.

Gorgeous and composed, he wore a light blue shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and chest