No one had actually forgotten her. But she’d been expected to simply follow doctor’s orders and recover. No fears, no emotional needs, no attention. Just recover.
And she had.
She had!
Why did this suddenly matter?
She swallowed hard. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Somebody has to because you won’t. I think you know it’s time to move on. And it’s killing you, but you’d rather suffer than move on.”
She licked her lips and stepped back. All sexual feelings aside, and not counting how happy he made her, the fact that he liked her enough to be honest with her, weakened her knees.
She needed so badly to be honest with someone. To talk about her fears. Her hopes. Her needs.
Still…
How did she leave Jason? How could she leave Jason?
How could she put herself and her feelings over his, when she was supposed to be the woman who loved him?
She couldn’t.
Cindy began to cry and Chance turned and walked back to the nursery.
She closed her eyes, imagining Jason alone in that lonely room if she stopped visiting. While she enjoyed the twins, fell in love with Chance, made a fantastic life for herself, he would be alone.
She would never, ever, ever let that happen. Even if she was a hundred and ten and had to be pushed into his room in a wheelchair, she would never leave him alone in that cold, empty room.
She swallowed back a boatload of tears, telling herself that maybe it was time to leave this job. But she looked over at adorable Sam chattering to himself in the play yard and another surge of misery filled her. For as much as she couldn’t leave Jason alone, she also couldn’t leave that little boy motherless.
Chance brought Cindy out of the nursery and she swallowed again. And what about Chance? Would she leave him alone with two babies?
Chance said, “Here’s Miss Cindy Lou.”
She laughed shakily, swiped a tissue from the end table and blotted her eyes.
When Chance got close enough, Cindy reached for her and she took her from his arms, allowing herself to silently admit that she needed to be here as much as the babies and Chance needed her here. Cindy and Sam and even Chance filled her with hope and happiness. Something she hadn’t felt in five long years, something she might not have felt again, were it not for them.
Still, in the days that followed, she withdrew another bit from Chance. But bundled in her coat on Christmas Eve, she glanced around making sure he wasn’t in the great room and slid a gift for him and each twin under the tree. Then she ambled to the nursery to say Merry Christmas and be off for her holiday.
He handed her a Christmas bonus.
She glanced at the envelope in her hand. “You know, you don’t have to keep doing this.”
He put one finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “I like you. I know you want to go to school eventually and this will help.”
She stepped back, away from him. The kids bounced eagerly in their cribs as if they understood all the things she’d told them about Santa Claus.
Her breath shivered in her lungs. She’d miss seeing them open their gifts. That hurt so much, she almost couldn’t breathe.
She took another step back. “Yes. Thanks.” Then she raced from the cottage before she couldn’t leave at all.
* * *
Christmas morning, Chance was awakened by two screaming babies. He bounced out of bed and raced into the nursery. With her hands on the crib railing, supporting her, Cindy bounced up and down and cried unusually hard, as if she knew Tory was gone. Sam sat in his crib crying.
Well, giving his nanny the week from Christmas to New Year’s Day off had been a brilliant idea.
He walked over to Cindy. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” He lifted her from the crib. “We’re all going to miss Tory, but not having her here getting all bound up in our holiday is for the best.” Inspiration struck as he laid her on the changing table. “Hey! As soon as we get you two changed, you get to open presents.”
As if understanding, Cindy stopped crying. He made short order of her diaper and then Sam’s, quickly fed them cereal and set them in walkers near the tree.
Sam stared at the tree in wonder, but Cindy’s gaze followed him as he raced to find his video camera. When he returned to the tree, he turned it on, and the tree lights…but something felt wrong. Missing.
He sighed. Of course something felt missing. Tory was missing. That’s why he’d given her so much time off. He didn’t want to get her any more tangled up in his life than she already was. It hurt her. And it confused him.