Jack had decided early after the accident he would wait for his chance to break through.
She’d lost a child and he had no idea, not carrying it, how that felt.
Jack, too, lamented the loss of their child. He was looking forward to sharing that with Belle, looking forward to every aspect of it with great anticipation. Anytime he thought of their loss, remembered his mother’s voice on the phone when she called to tell him what happened, Lila greeting him at the entrance to the hospital, whispering to him that Nathan was gone, seeing Belle lying bandaged and asleep in her hospital bed, his chest would get tight.
But whatever he felt was simply emotional. It had not been tied to the physical. He’d not had a child in distress die inside him.
And he couldn’t imagine her pain.
Therefore he was willing to let her have her head.
However, he thought Belle would give him an opening, something, anything.
She was not doing that.
And, even though it had been only three and a half weeks (albeit a very long three and a half weeks), Jack was losing patience.
It was Sunday, their day, and it was bloody well time for him to break through.
His face nuzzled the hair at the back of her neck and he whispered, “Belle.”
“You need to walk the dogs,” was her reply.
“In a minute.”
Her stiff body got tighter at his unprecedented response. Every day for three weeks when she’d done that, Jack had left her and walked the dogs.
She hesitated a moment before she said, “It’s not nice to make them wait.”
“We’ll walk them in a minute.”
Her tight body grew rock solid.
Then she whispered, “We?”
Now was the time for him to begin to break through.
Therefore, Jack informed her, “You need to start taking your walks again.”
“I –”
Jack interrupted her and went on, “You also need to start eating more.”
“But I’m not hun –”
“You also need to start designing,” Jack cut her off again. “Dirk tells me that you haven’t begun producing the winter collection. It’s September, you need winter stock.”
“But, I –”
“And we need to go back to The Point.” When her body grew so solid it felt like she’d shatter if she moved, Jack shifted and buried his face in her neck. “I love your cottage, poppet, and I understand why you needed to be here but it’s not our home.”
“Home?” she breathed.
“Home,” he replied and his mouth moved to her ear. “It’s time to go home, my love.”
“But, Jack,” she whispered, “this is my home.”
He kissed the skin behind her ear and her solid body gave a delicate shiver.