“Your husband’s occupation?” Chelsie asked. She forced the question from somewhere deep inside her.
Amanda choked on a laugh. “Attorney.”
“For what firm?” But she already knew. This was no coincidence. And judging by the woman’s penetrating stare, Amanda knew that, as well.
“Stevens and McLaughlin, downtown Boston.”
Chelsie stood. Her gaze darted from the bruises on Amanda’s arm to the rest of her well-dressed but well-covered body. The nausea threatened again. “Excuse me,” she murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Her fault. And this time, a flesh-and-blood child’s welfare was at stake. Her fault. The litany in her brain refused to subside.
Chelsie ran, barely making it to the bathroom in time. Afterwards, she washed her face and drank a glass of water, but she couldn’t stop shaking or control the erratic beat of her heart. The cold sweat that had begun earlier now left her chilled.
With no choice, she dried her eyes and walked back into Griff’s office, ignoring his concerned expression.
“I’m sorry.” She glanced at Griff. “Have you gotten the rest of the information?”
He nodded.
“Good. Amanda,” Chelsie said gently, “have you given any thought to what comes next?”
“I’d like to look at the shelter, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’m free from now through lunch, if that’s okay.”
“Fine.”
Griff cleared his throat, but Chelsie refused to acknowledge their change in plans.
“Okay. Aside from where you’ll be staying, what are you willing to do?” Chelsie asked.
“Anything necessary to protect myself and my child.”
“A restraining order would be a start. Documentation of the history of abuse and pictures of any current bruises would also help. Friends’ affidavits, things that would support your case in court—if you’re willing to press charges.”
The other woman dropped her head in her hands, but when she looked up, Chelsie saw a determination she herself hadn’t had when faced with similar questions. Maybe if she’d come to her senses sooner, if she’d left Jeffrey after the first time or immediately after realizing she was pregnant, she never would have lost her baby.
Or her future, she thought, glancing at Griff.
“Whatever is necessary,” Amanda reiterated.
“Good.” Grasping her purse, Chelsie gestured towards the door. Amanda stood.
Griff rose from his seat, but Chelsie refused to even glance in his direction. She couldn’t deal with his questioning looks. Not now. He walked over and placed his arm around Amanda’s shoulders, leading her into the waiting room. “I’d like to speak with my partner. Will you be all right?” he asked.
“Fine.”
He nodded. “Help yourself to coffee.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll be right with you.”
Griff turned to Chelsie. Before she could make an excuse to avoid any discussion, his hand firmly grasped her wrist. “Inside,” he whispered.
Anxiety caused her to plant her feet firmly in the doorway.
“Now, please.”
Faced with the choice of upsetting Amanda with a scene or dealing with Griff, Chelsie turned and walked back into his office.
NINE
“I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”
Chelsie stood with her back to Griff and stared out the window. A slight breeze blew the branches on the trees and she wished she were outside enjoying the end of summer, instead of being inside, subjected to an early frost.
“What happened back there?” he demanded in a no-nonsense tone.
She shrugged. “Something I ate didn’t agree with me. I’m okay now.”
He cleared his throat and she heard him restlessly pacing the carpet behind her. Though her half-answers might frustrate him, she had no choice but to stall. With a client waiting outside, she couldn’t get into personal matters, but with personal intruding on business, she realized she couldn’t put off the inevitable much longer.
“Are you sure it didn’t have something more to do with the subject matter?” he asked, his voice softening.
“Two days ago, you wouldn’t have asked me that question.”
“Two days ago, you hadn’t confided in me. Two days ago, we hadn’t made love.”
Her body heated with the memory and his genuine concern tugged at her heart. She could no longer avoid him, but she couldn’t bear a pitying look in his eyes, either. She whirled around, finally facing him, only to discover deep emotion lingered in the hazel depths. Pity was nowhere to be found.
“Tell me something, Griff. Does having sex give you the right to grill me?”
She regretted the words the minute they left her mouth. The entire situation had her rattled, which was no excuse to take her rampaging emotions out on the man she loved.
To his credit, he merely shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over a chair. She recognized the delay as a means to bide time and calm his anger. She gave him his due. How a man could be just as devastating fully dressed as he had been unclothed baffled her. But it was the man inside the clothes that had drawn her out and made her fall in love.
When he met her stare, his expression darkened, along with his eyes. He took two steps forward, but she stopped him mid-stride with as much honesty as she could muster.
“I’m sorry, please forget I said that.” She lifted her hand and worked the sore muscles in the back of her neck. “Yes, the subject matter is upsetting,” she said, lowering herself into the nearest chair. She owed Griff as much of the truth as she felt he could handle hearing—as much as she could handle revealing—for now.
His hand touched her cheek. “I don’t like seeing you hurt. Do you react like this after every client interview?”
She shook her head, unwittingly freeing some strands of hair. Without much thought, she tucked them behind her ear. “Some hit me harder than others.”
“No wonder this one’s difficult. She looks so much like you. The dark hair, the eyes…”
“I hadn’t noticed.” And she hadn’t. Now that he’d pointed out their similarities, Chelsie realized Griff was right—another factor that must have unconsciously upset her. “I really must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me, or else I’m catching a new version of the virus you and Alix had.” Which wasn’t a lie, since her throat had been raw all morning. “I’ll be all right.”