She was also happy to see how relaxed and easy Dustin was with the men. There was no hint in his demeanor that he was bothered by the fact that they were both enormously wealthy, and for their part, nothing to show that they thought any less of him for what he did for a living.
At one point in the evening, she noticed that Jacyn had disappeared and, mildly concerned, went in search of her. She found her in the large, airy room that Chantelle had begun to prepare as a nursery, sitting in a rocking chair, crying into her laced fingers.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned, and then listened as Jacyn poured out her despair over her inability to conceive again, even three years after her daughter’s birth.
“I’m happy for you,” she’d sobbed, “and I wish you all happy things with your new babies. After my wedding it took Alex and I almost two years before we conceived Alicyn. And we’ve been trying to get pregnant since before Alicyn even turned three months old and nothing. Not even a positive test. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Chantelle had understood a little of what Jacyn felt, having gone through the agony of indecision over having a baby herself, and the relief she’d felt when she discovered that the insemination had been successful, and that she’d become pregnant on the first attempt. She found herself tearing up, flopping onto the couch opposite Jacyn, holding her hands in hers, murmuring comforting things until Alex came in and began to comfort his wife. She’d given them privacy and when the couple had rejoined the group, Jacyn no longer looked sad.
As connected as she’d felt to Jacyn’s pain that night, Chantelle was well aware that she was also grieving her upcoming loss.
Dustin cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway and Chantelle looked up. “Hey,” she said, hoping he couldn’t read the misery on her face.
He didn’t say anything for a while, and then nodded in the direction of the front garden. “My Uber’s here.”
Because today was the day. The week was up, and Dustin was leaving.
And it shocked Chantelle to her very core to discover how cut up she was about that, how desperately she wanted to plead with him to stay, just for a little while longer.
In the early hours, after they’d made love and fallen limp into each other’s arms, she’d lain awake, motionless, afraid to move too suddenly lest she wake him. Because it would kill her if he found out that she was losing sleep over him.
What was wrong with her? The powerful feelings she felt for him had to be a lie, driven by pregnancy hormones, or their idyllic setting of her beautiful house. Or the fact that they were here in France rather than back in the States with its hectic pace. Maybe a combination of all the above.
Because there was no way that the feelings she was having for him now could be real. She’d never felt anything like this for a man, not even the two men she’d convinced herself she was in love with during her two disastrous engagements.
But as strange and unfamiliar as this feeling was, she knew it wasn’t love. Nobody fell in love that fast. Life just didn’t work that way.
She realized that Dustin was still standing there, waiting for her to say something. She made herself smile; there was no way she was going to let him see her cry. “You sure you don’t want to use my plane?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
He shook his head. “Commercial’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“My driver could take you—”
He smiled at her. A smile that went all the way to his eyes, and made her tummy wobble. “Car’s already here.”
“Okay.” She gave into the inevitable. Stepped into her walk-in closet and returned with a gift bag full of presents. “These are for your mom, your sister, and brother. It’s nothing too extravagant but I hope they like them.”
He took the bag. “I’m sure they will.”
She noticed that her hands were sweating. She wiped them on her maternity pants. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she said in a brave tone.That’s it,Chantelle.Play it cool. It’s almost over, and then you’ll be alone and you can bawl your eyes out in peace.
He was probably relieved, she thought as they stepped into the front garden. The Uber was idling gently, not even bothering to toot the horn. The driver was probably used to long goodbyes when it came to trips to the airport.
Dustin neatly packed all his luggage into the trunk, slammed it shut, and returned to face her. As if he was expecting her to say something.
But what could she say? He’d executed his part of the contract; she’d executed hers. Once the baby was born, payment could be made and steps begun to terminate this fake marriage of theirs. And then he’d be rid of her. Free again.
Her heart ached, constricted and ached some more, and she knew it would kill her never to see him again. At least she’d always have a part of him, she consoled herself. Her hand came up to her tummy. He saw the gesture and gave her a half smile that sliced her in two.
To her surprise, he hugged her tightly, then whispered in her ear, “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” She managed to say it back and was proud of herself.
He got in without looking back, as she restrained every iota of herself to keep from running after him. She hurt so much she felt it deep inside. Ached so much it made her dizzy.
Chantelle took a step forward in the direction of the receding vehicle, held out her hand towards him and noticed she could see neither her hand nor the car ahead. It was as if she’d fallen face first in a snowbank and then she was falling for real.
Chapter 30