And, since it was Jack, it would be worse.
Jack was a better man than Calvin in a lot of ways (heck, in every way), many which Calvin would never know.
But the ones he would know, that Jack was richer than him, famous, more accomplished and far more handsome, would drive Calvin up the wall.
Calvin had spent years convincing Belle that she was lucky to have him, that she couldn’t dream of ever finding another man, that he’d gone slumming when he chose her.
The fact that Belle could catch the eye of a man far better than Calvin and the media rubbing his nose in it on a near day-to-day basis would drive Calvin over the brink.
He’d lose it and take it out on her.
Gram spoke again and Belle took her hands away from her face when she did. “You need be careful, my sweet.”
Belle turned her head to look at her grandmother and nodded.
“It’s a good thing you’re living here and Jack’s taking you to work,” Gram stated. “Just keep your eyes peeled and, in the meantime, your mother and I’ll frequent the shop. But, until you tell Jack what happened with Calvin, I don’t want you to go anywhere alone, okay?”
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
“He won’t hurt you again, honeypot,” Mom reassured. “We wouldn’t let him and now, Jack won’t.”
In her heart, Belle knew this was true.
And her heart spoke to her soul and they both came to an agreement.
It was just her mind that worked against her.
“I think Joy would tackle him and beat him senseless,” Gram commented.
“I’d hate to think what Yasmin would do,” Mom added.
“I don’t hate to think of it,” Gram grinned.
“Can we not talk about Calvin anymore?” Belle asked quietly.
Both her mother and grandmother looked at her and a miracle occurred.
For, at the same time, they agreed.
* * * * *
Belle sat in the window seat of her bedroom wearing a cotton nightgown in a pretty pastel plaid, a drawstring tie at the bodice forming a ruffle along the neckline and wide, ruffle-edged straps. It came down to mid-thigh and, to ward off the cold brought on by the change of weather, she’d put on a pair of thick, pink socks and pulled on a short, pink, jersey dressing gown with a wide hood.
She’d designed the nightgown and robe, a new line of clothing that she’d added to her inventory last summer that had taken off like a shot.
She had not, of course, designed the socks.
The storm had come anew, bringing with it flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.
Belle watched the storm and let it clear her mind which, fortunately, worked.
After her discussion with her Mom and Gram, instead of going to Jack which had been his unspoken but understood wish, she’d stayed in her Mom’s room. They’d lain in bed and chatted like they’d done thousands of times before, never lacking for conversation.
She was enjoying some time alone with her mother.
But she was also avoiding Jack.
No longer because she was scared of him, it was now because she was scared of her feelings for him.