Abe, too, was free, he and the guys having decided to take a break with their songwriting sessions for the new record.
Midway through breakfast, Sarah admitted she was craving a hot chocolate, so Abe got up and made her one. He'd seen the good-quality dark chocolate she had in her pantry, and he was able to jury-rig a double boiler to melt it just right. He even knew how to use the handheld frother she had in her cutlery drawer.
Her eyes, which had widened when he reached for the block of chocolate rather than the mix she'd tried to point him toward, turned as huge as saucers when he put his creation in front of her, the delicately frothed top dusted with chocolate.
Taking a little sip, she sighed that dreamy little sigh he usually only ever heard in bed. His cock jumped. Ordering the damn excited thing to settle down, Abe retook his seat and enjoyed his wife's bone-deep pleasure.
Another sip, her eyes closing for two long seconds before she lifted her lashes again. "When did you become a barista?" Her voice was husky, her pupils dilated. "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had."
"It's my one and only specialty." A wave of memories as bittersweet as dark chocolate. "Tessie loved hot chocolate, so I learned to make them. Otherwise, she'd have me going out at the crack of dawn to buy a 'real hot chocolate with foofs.'" He indicated the frothed milk to explain the last.
Sarah's expression went soft, her dark eyes liquid. "You did that for her?"
"Yeah. She was my baby sister, you know?" So small and always so excited to spend time with him. "I was her hero." It came out harsh. "She looked at me that way right to the end, even when I couldn't keep her safe, even when the pain was agonizing." Eyes hot, he stared at the table. "Some damn hero."
CHAPTER 31
"YOU WERE THERE FOR HER." Putting down her drink, Sarah reached across the table to tangle her fingers with his. "Her big brother loved her and she knew." Voice thick, she said, "That's what matters."
Abe thought of the games he'd played with Tessie while she lay in a hospital bed, her tiny body ravaged by disease, and wished Sarah could've seen her sparkly smile, the way she had of laughing so infectiously. "She was a character," he said, wanting... needing Sarah to see Tessie as he'd seen her.
"One time, when she was five, I made her a hot chocolate but forgot to froth the milk." An unexpected smile curved over his lips, his sister's infectious laughter a faraway echo in his mind. "She gave this big sigh and said, 'Abam'--that's what she called me, after hearing Mom say Abraham one day. Anyway, Tessie does a dramatic sigh and says, 'Abam, this is atrocious.'"
Startled laughter from Sarah, the sound wrapping him in countless fragile chains he had no desire to escape. "How did she even know the word?"
"I have an aunt who uses it." Abe found himself grinning. "That summer, it was Tessie's favorite word. Everything was atrocious--the hard thing was not encouraging her to use it. She just sounded so damn cute being all prim and proper. Like a disappointed little schoolteacher."
He found his phone, scrolled to the folder he kept on it of his favorite photos of his baby sister. Bringing up a particular image, he turned the phone toward Sarah. "Mom would do her hair up in these pigtails and she liked to wear pretty dresses and little socks with patent leather Mary Janes." Exactly as she was dressed in the photograph he'd snapped in their family backyard. "That summer she told me my dirty sneakers were atrocious."
Sarah had taken his phone, was going through the images with gentle care. "There are lots of pictures of her all dirty and in playclothes."
"Oh yeah, pretty dresses or not, she could roughhouse with the best of them." Abe rubbed a fisted hand over his heart. "One rainy day right before she got sick, I was chasing her around the yard and we both slipped on a patch of mud, right onto our faces. I was worried she was hurt... but Tessie laughed and laughed and laughed."
His voice broke.
SARAH HAD NEVER SEEN ABE CRY. NEVER.
Today he ducked his head, his shoulders rigid; she knew he was fisting his free hand hard. Her own eyes gritty, she put down the phone and, sliding her fingers from his, got up and moved around to tug his head gently against her stomach. "It's okay," she whispered, one hand stroking the back of his head. "You're allowed to cry for her."
His arms locked around her, and though he didn't cry, he held on so tight that she'd probably have bruises tomorrow. Sarah didn't mind. Not when this was the first time in their entire relationship that Abe had allowed himself to be vulnerable with her.
His body trembled.
Swallowing her own response to his pain, she just held him, this big, strong man who knew how to love so deeply that the loss of his little sister had almost destroyed him. He'd love their baby the same way, she suddenly realized, the understanding perfect and clear and bright. She never had to worry about her child feeling unloved or unwanted like she had.
Abe Bellamy knew how to love the innocent.
ABE WASN'T USED TO ALLOWING ANYONE to see his weaknesses, but as they sat down to finish breakfast ten minutes later, he realized that having Sarah hold him hadn't felt like weakness. It had felt right. She was his wife; of course she'd hold him if he needed it.
Ex-wife.
Shut the fuck up, he told the annoying voice in his head that insisted on piping up whenever he thought of Sarah as his wife. That stupid, needling voice that insisted on reminding him of his idiocy needed to be thumped. Wishing the voice was corporeal so he really could thump it, he helped Sarah clean up after breakfast, was about to ask her what she wanted to do today when he got a call from Thea.
"Jeez, Thea," he said as Sarah motioned that she was going upstairs, "I just saw you the other day. You gotta control your violent passion for me, or David will get jealous."
"Ha-ha." Dry as dust, her tone made him laugh. "Now that the comedy portion of the morning is out of the way," she continued, "I called to tell you that you and Sarah have been well and truly outed. Be careful of possible paparazzi at the gate."
Abe clenched his jaw, had to force himself to relax it so he could speak. "Do they know Sarah's pregnant?" He kept his voice low; the last thing Sarah needed right now was to worry about an intrusive media storm.
"No, that's still under the radar," Thea reassured him. "But a photographer got a very clear photo of you two kissing on her doorstep, and G&V decided to publish it front and center. You know how things get when they decide to push a particular story."
Yeah, Abe knew; the damn blog was gossip central for the entire entertainment industry. "Why now?" He'd figured people had gotten their kicks already, would leave him and Sarah in peace. "I kissed her in broad daylight for the photo shot by that weasel, Basil."
"Social media's been buzzing quietly but consistently with the Abra hashtag for weeks. I think G&V's clicked onto the fact you two have a deeply devoted following--that equals more visits to their site, more ad revenue, the usual." Thea's tone was pragmatic. "From the number of comments already on the article, I don't think this'll be the last time they feature you."
Abe shrugged, his muscles no longer knotted up now that the first slap of anger had passed. "We'll continue to be boring and straitlaced and they'll find juicier targets soon enough." A "clean-cut" singer or model would get caught snorting coke, or a glamour couple would break up, or some celebrity kid would throw a tantrum.
Abe had lived in the glare of fame long enough to know it was a fickle beast.
"I'm not sure it's going to work this time, Abe," Thea warned. "Especially after they twig to the pregnancy. For now I'll see what I can do to head them off, buy you both a little more time and privacy."
Hanging up after thanking the publicist, Abe was about to go up and share Thea's intel with Sarah when he caught sight of a card propped up on the bookshelf. He'd noticed it that day he'd helped Sarah clean, had smiled because it was the one he'd sent her, but now the image on the front had a sick feeling churning in his gut.
It was a fairground.
Memories, harsh and unforgiving, punched thr
ough the misty veil created by the shit he'd been putting into his body during that time, of a night when a bright-eyed Sarah had asked him to accompany her to a fair. He'd said a flat no. One of Tessie's final outings after the doctors let her come home because there was nothing more they could do had been to a local fair--he'd carried her fragile body all wrapped up in blankets, stood beside her with his arm around her on the merry-go-round so she wouldn't fall off her horse.
She'd died two days later.
And Abe couldn't even smell kettle corn or cotton candy without wanting to break the world into a million little pieces.
Only he'd never explained that to Sarah. He'd just turned her down, tried not to see the tears she was trying to fight back, then fucked off somewhere else.
The sick feeling grew stronger. "Suck it up, Abe," he muttered. "And do better this time around."
Making a few quick calls on the heels of that order, he went up to the bedroom. "So Thea had some news," he began, then wolf-whistled.
He'd caught Sarah just as she finished hooking up her bra, her back to him and her fingers quick and clever. Her panties were the same dark blue lace as her bra, the color lush against the rich brown hue of her skin. That bra cupped her spectacular breasts as if it had been painted on, while the lace of the panties drew his attention to her equally spectacular ass.
Throwing him a startled look over her shoulder, Sarah smiled, looking a little shy and pleased at the same time. "What's happened?"
Abe didn't want to go there just yet, didn't want to steal her smile. "I'm sorry, I've lost my mind after seeing you." Walking over to grip her hip from behind, he tugged her back against him. "How about we just stay in bed?" Kissing her throat, he slid one hand around to play his fingers over her navel.
Her belly was still only curved the gentlest amount, nothing anyone who didn't know her intimately would notice.
Moaning and laughing at the same time, his wife spun around to face him, her hands on his chest. "I want to go out."
He sighed and stroked the sleek line of her back. "What do you want to do?"
"Flossie needs to be taken for a walk first of all."
Flossie looked up from where she was sitting comfortably on the bed Sarah must've made. Her tail began wagging like a metronome at the word "walk." Abe patted Sarah on the butt. "You spoil that dog."
"I know, but she's so wonderful." She kissed his jaw. "Beach walk again? I liked that."
Abe had zero willpower where Sarah was concerned. "Yeah, why not--but we might meet a few more vultures today." He told her what Thea had shared. "You still want to do the beach deal?"
Sarah thought about it, but only for a second. "Yes. How much scandal can they wring out of a couple taking their dog for a walk?" Narrowed eyes. "I'm stronger now, not so easy to bully."
"You're fucking amazing, that's what you are."
First, however, they went to visit Aaron after Abe gave a couple of paps in cars the slip. No one was going to make a quick buck with Sarah's grief. She didn't cry today, just spoke to her lost baby with purest love as she made sure his resting place was neat and tidy and his toys were where they should be.
Flossie sat beside her on one side, Abe on the other.
Pressing her lips to the stone that marked Aaron's grave an hour later, Sarah said, "I'll see you again soon, Baby Boots."
"Later, kid." Abe touched his hand to the stone before the three of them rose and walked to the SUV, a sense of peace in the air.
Heading to the beach, they hung out there for two hours, were more than ready for lunch when it rolled around. First, they made sure Flossie was hydrated and fed, then let her out into the fenced backyard. Exhausted from playing in the waves, she went to the spacious outdoor doghouse that was her official abode--not that Abe had ever seen Sarah's beloved pet spend a night there--and snuggling in, started to snore.
Meanwhile, Sarah threw together a salad and he grilled some chicken and they ate. After they'd sat for a while, relaxing, Abe took a deep breath, said, "There's a fair in town. You want to go?"
Sarah's body went motionless. And it felt as if time stopped.
"Okay," she said softly after an endless instant.
"I have to tell you something first." He swallowed, blew out a breath. "I have to tell you why I don't like fairs."
And he did, hiding nothing. None of the anger that had lived in him for so long. None of the violence of which he was afraid he was capable. None of the pain of that day when his baby sister had ridden the merry-go-round until she couldn't stay awake any longer.
Sarah cried, but she said, "We have to go. You have to remember the joy she felt that day, hold that in your heart instead of the fury that lives there now."
Abe wasn't sure he could do that, wasn't sure he wouldn't rage at the world the instant he set foot in the fair, but he would walk into hell itself for Sarah. "Let's go."
PART FIVE
CHAPTER 32
TWO MONTHS AFTER THEIR DATE AT THE FAIR, a date that had begun in teeth-clenched control for Abe and ended with him kissing her in the shadow of a Ferris wheel while she held on to a fluffy toy cat he'd won for her, Sarah no longer worried about the media or any other outside pressure when it came to their relationship.
If they messed up the beautiful, precious thing growing ever stronger between them, it would be on her and Abe, no one else.
Today she was about to step out on Abe's arm and into the full glare of the spotlight. The media intrusion hadn't been too bad over the past weeks. All thanks to a genius move on Thea's part right when interest in Sarah and Abe's relationship had been growing at dangerous speed--she'd told them to stop avoiding the media, to go to certain specific and stultifyingly nonglamorous locations where they were sure to be photographed, and to make no effort to deny the relationship.
Turned out cooperation and easy access to photos of them as a couple soon lowered their monetary value to nil as far as the vast majority of paparazzi were concerned. Why hang out all night at the gate waiting for a photo opportunity when ten other photographers also had shots of them? Thea had effectively flooded the market with so much sheer ordinariness that no one cared.
"As Schoolboy Choir's publicist," Thea had said the last time she'd come over for a coffee, "that might have been the worst possible thing I could've done, but as your friend, I take a bow."
Sarah had sent the other woman a huge bunch of flowers after the media interest died down to near zero. So much so that no one had clicked to her pregnancy. Part of it had to do with how careful they were anytime she needed to see Dr. Snyder or had to go for a scan, but mostly it was due to her height and body shape--she was carrying the baby in a way that meant her bump remained small.
Meanwhile, the peanut was developing right on schedule.
She'd worried the dress she'd chosen for tonight's red-carpet event would give it away, but Kit had been right: the Grecian-inspired gown, the color a frothy and luscious green, cascaded over her body in a joyous fall of color without accentuating her belly. If the crueler elements in the media decided to call her fat for not choosing a formfitting gown, that was fine with her--so long as they left her in privacy. Because while Sarah had toughened up enough to deal with the attention, that didn't mean she wanted it.
However, she didn't feel fat. She felt glorious. Her breasts looked fantastic in the dress--the heavy globes well supported by the halter neck, and her arms were beautifully toned as a result of her pregnancy-appropriate exercise routine. She patted her belly, promised her baby she'd keep her body strong, healthy.
Abe's arm slipped around her from behind. "You're worrying about the baby."
"A little." That fear lived in her always, wouldn't totally fade until she held their baby safe in her arms. "But mostly I'm excited for tonight." Turning around, she took in his black-on-black suit, the shirt open at the collar just enough to make him James Bond sexy. "You are so ridiculously hot," she said, running her hands down his chest. "Stop it."
Grinning
, he dipped his head to take a slow, smoky burn of a kiss. "Sweetheart, you annihilate me in the hotness stakes." His eyes went to her hair, her curls wild around her head. "I fucking love everything about you."
Sarah still wasn't sure about the wild mass on her head, but she couldn't deny Abe this. Not today, not when he and the band were about to perform for millions around the world. "I'm so happy for you. Your performance will bring down the house." Schoolboy Choir wasn't up for any awards since they hadn't released an album within the year encompassed by the awards, but they were to give one of the banner performances of the night.
"And next year," she said, "watch out world." Every piece she'd heard from the album they were currently putting together was phenomenal. "You'll win everything there is to win."
Dark eyes held her captive. "I've already won."
Sarah's defenses were so low by now that they were barely holding. Yet something held her back from the final commitment, kept her from accepting the silent offer Abe made each time he touched her, each time he kissed her.
Maybe it was just a matter of time: twenty-one weeks, give or take, wasn't that long in the scheme of things. Five months and a bit. Not that long when you considered how long Abe had ridden a self-destructive cycle of self-abuse.
Ducking her head, she fiddled with her dress so it fell just so. "Is the limo here?"
"Yes."
What she didn't realize until she opened the door and they walked out was that it was a stretch limo. She gave an excited little jump. "Are we all going together?"
Noah pushed open the back door and stepped out before Abe could answer. "Looking gorgeous, Sarah." The guitarist held out a hand.
Taking it, she let him help her inside. Molly patted the seat beside her, and Sarah slid in. Noah and Abe followed within seconds, and then the interior filled with music and chatter and offers of champagne or juice.