Baby for the Billionaire - By Maxine Sullivan Page 0,27
came.”
Nick’s brows flattened. “And you are?”
“I was Julieann’s husband.”
“Husband?” Nick bit back from asking which one.
“Her last one,” the man said, reading his mind. “My name’s Ted, by the way.”
Ted’s eyes darted to Sasha. “And this must be your new wife,” he said, startling Nick, then explained, “Julieann read about your marriage in the papers.”
Nick grimaced inwardly. He wondered how long before his mother would have found a way to make use of that knowledge.
“Really? So she wasn’t drunk behind the wheel of her car when she died?”
“No, she wasn’t,” Ted said firmly. “She’d been working the nightshift at an old people’s home. She fell asleep because she was tired.”
“My mother would never have been working. Period. And certainly not working to help anyone else.”
Ted began to look upset. “I told you, she’d changed. Believe me, she had.”
Nick held himself in check. Nothing would convince him of that statement. “It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. It’s over.”
The older man blinked rapidly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I think you should have this.”
Nick didn’t take it. “What is it?”
“It’s a letter. To you. She was planning on sending it, but kept putting it off until she felt you were ready.”
Nick still didn’t take it. “I don’t want it. It’s too late.”
Ted continued to hold out the envelope but his hand shook a little now. “Then it won’t do any harm for you to read it.”
Nick stared hard at him. “Were you good to my mother, Ted?”
Moisture refilled Ted’s eyes as he straightened. “Yes, I was.”
“Then I’ll take it for your sake.” Nick took the envelope, aware of the other man’s relief. He couldn’t promise to ever read it. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ted.”
“I’m sorry for yours, too, son.”
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Nick cupped Sasha’s elbow and walked her to the limousine. Ted had no need to offer condolences for losing his mother.
You couldn’t lose something you had never had.
After dinner that evening, Sasha wasn’t surprised when Nick said he was going to do some work in the upstairs study. He’d already spoken to his father about the funeral, and then Alex had called from London with concern in his voice.
She knew Nick was upset and he needed to be alone to think about the day’s events. She understood he was having trouble assimilating what Ted had told him about his mother, how to fit that image into the person Nick knew her to be. She could only imagine the thoughts going through his head right now.
Of course, he hadn’t needed to hear her exclaim over the church like they were attending a joyous wedding instead of a solemn funeral. Yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The moment she’d seen it, she’d fallen in love with its picture-book setting. The perfect picture for the perfect wedding she had dreamed about.
She sighed and pushed aside her wistful thoughts as she settled down to do some work of her own. For once, time dragged. She wanted to go and see how Nick was doing.
For a few hours she held back, but at nine o’clock she couldn’t wait any longer. She went upstairs and knocked on the study door, only to find him nowhere to be seen.
And then she saw the letter from his mother lying open on the desk. Her heart started to thud.
Hurrying to the window she saw his car was still parked outside in the driveway. Then she checked their bedroom but he wasn’t there either. She was about to go downstairs and check the kitchen when she noticed a door open at the far end of the landing.
Nick’s old bedroom.
She found him sitting on the side of the bed in the dark, the light from the hallway spilling across the center of the room, showing him with his elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor.
“Nick?” she murmured with concern, wanting to rush to him but not wanting to intrude in a private moment.
He lifted his head. “Sasha.”
“Are you okay?”
A moment’s silence, then he straightened. “Yeah, I am.”
She took a few steps into the room. “I went to look for you in the study.” She hesitated. “Urn … I saw your mother’s letter was open and I was concerned for you.”
“Did you read it?”
“No! I would never do that.”
He grimaced. “I wasn’t accusing. I thought you might have read it to see