She couldn’t believe it.
“Belle,” he called again and she realised her eyes had glazed over so she focussed on him and once she did, he asked, “Are you going to be all right?”
She stared at him a moment and gave her body a shake before she sat back and resumed sipping her coffee.
Her eyes went to the sea and she answered on a mini-lie, “Yes. I’m not all right now but I will be.”
This was a mini-lie because she had no idea how to make herself “all right” with this latest mess. But she felt a trill race up her spine so her eyes slid to Jack to see he was smiling at her with an expression on his face that looked a whole lot like pride.
“Good,” he murmured.
A warm feeling slid into the pit of her belly and settled.
There it was. She’d found a way to make herself “all right” and it wasn’t difficult at all.
Then Jack had eaten his breakfast while Belle sipped her coffee and they did this in silence, Jack again acting as if this was the most natural thing in the world. He’d simply eaten and read through the paper while Belle sat silent and contemplative beside him.
When he was done, he took her to work again and she knew, even before Jack parked (he didn’t stop and idle on the street this time), that it was going to be a feeding frenzy.
And it was
The minute Jack stopped, the paparazzi surrounded the car.
Jack turned to Belle instantly.
She couldn’t read his eyes through the green tinted lenses of his gold-framed aviator sunglasses, but she could see his jaw was tight right before he ordered, “Do not get out of the car until I open your door.”
She nodded, slid her enormous, black framed and lensed designer sunglasses more firmly up the bridge of her nose and did what she was told.
When she cleared the door, Jack’s arm slid around her shoulders. He slammed the door, bleeped the car locked and strode forward confidently, taking her right along with him.
As they walked, she kept her head bowed and her body turned slightly into his.
Jack didn’t bow his head. He walked like normal (albeit with Belle plastered to his side). He faced forward, his strides wide as if there weren’t photographers taking pictures and reporters shouting questions.
Without her giving him directions, he guided her directly to her shop and took the keys out of her hands to let them in.
She took off her glasses and moved to the alarm panel as he closed and locked the door.
The flashes from the cameras were coming through her shop windows as she turned from the alarm and found Jack right there.
As if they weren’t the focus of a dozen prying eyes, he got close, his hands came to her jaw and tipped her face up to his.
“Explain your average day,” he demanded apropos of nothing and even though she thought this was a weird question, without hesitation she did.
When she was done, he informed her, “I want you off the shop floor. You can work in your workshop but, until this dies down, I want you off the shop floor.”
She stared at him like he’d grown three heads. “I can’t be off the shop floor. I only have Belinda helping me in the shop and she’s not even full-time.”
“Hire a new shop assistant,” he replied instantly.
“I can’t hire a new assistant. I just hired two new seamstresses. I can’t afford –”
He interrupted her by stating in a voice not to be denied, “Then I’ll hire a new assistant.”
“Jack!” she cried, shocked.
His thumb moved to stroke her cheekbone and his face got close.
“You’ve been facing this alone for a year. I’ll not have you face it alone any longer.” His voice was low and rumbly so she knew this statement meant something more to him than the something it meant to her and the something it meant to her made her heart lurch and her belly warm. He went on and his tone had gentled, “Now, poppet, hire the assistant and I’ll pay her salary. If you don’t have time, I’ll get Olive to do it.”
Even though she had no clue who Olive was, all she could do was nod.
He kissed her forehead, his hands tensed on her jaw then he left.
That night after the whole family had dinner together, Jack disappeared with the dogs, Belle and Mom watched a movie then Belle had gone to bed alone.
She woke up in the middle of the night to a dark room.
She then mentally scanned her immediate environment and she felt no warmth, no arm at her waist, no additional presence in the room and she heard no dog tags.
She should have been happy that Jack hadn’t slid into bed beside her. This was something she should not be allowing and something which she was, without a fight. Therefore this was something she didn’t understand but was also someplace she was not letting her mind go. Even with all that, she turned and checked the bed.
No Jack.
There was no relief this time, only disappointment.
She was battling with this, what it might mean, how she’d be able to carry on for the next five months with her brain so addled and slowly falling back to sleep when she heard the door open and the jangle of dog tags.
Seconds later, Jack settled behind her, drawing her body immediately into his as she heard the dogs move around and then finally find their resting places.
“Jack?” she whispered.
“Go back to sleep, love,” he whispered back.
Surprisingly, in mere minutes, she did.
He was gone when she woke.
Incidentally, they had an entire spread in the next day’s paper. This included Belle walking close to Jack’s side, his arm around her shoulders. Jack standing in her shop, his hands on her jaw tipping up her face to his as they talked. Jack kissing her forehead. And Jack coming to collect her in the evening, them walking back to his car the exact way they’d walked away from it that morning.
Not incidentally, Gram had blown her stack when she saw it.
“You must do something about this!” she demanded of Jack, waving the paper in the air when she arrived at the Saturday breakfast table where Jack and Belle had long since eaten. Rachel had just joined them and Yasmin and Joy had been with them for the last ten minutes.
“What do you propose I do, Lila?” Jack asked calmly.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. Fix it!” Gram retorted hotly.
“Gram –” Belle started.
Gram cut her off while throwing the paper down and seating herself at the table, “Bellerina, you’re pregnant. You already have enough stress and strain to deal with without this in your face every morning, noon and night.”