Page 169 of This Woman Forever

I wince.

“Look, Mr. Ward, all I will say is this.” My ears prick. “Dr. Pierce was a very troubled man. He lost his granddaughter and his daughter, and his wife was ill and required full-time care.”

I stare at the road ahead. “Lauren’s dead?”

“Yes, you didn’t know that?”

“Yes, of course,” I blurt, feeling every muscle in me relax. A weight lifted. And isn’t that terrible? She’s dead?

“Now, I really need to get back to my patients.”

“Thanks,” I murmur, cutting the call before Ms. Day. “Fucking hell.” I dial John, checking Ava again. “Lauren’s dead,” I say on a whisper as soon as he answers. “I got through to the surgery where her father worked, and they told me she’s dead.”

John doesn’t whoop his joy, and neither do I. But, again, I will ashamedly admit that I’m relieved. “Do you think?—”

I blow out my cheeks, hearing him. “She was ill, John.” And her doctor father struggled to accept that. Perhaps he thought he could fix her. Who knows.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Me neither,” I admit, as Ava stirs in her seat. “Is everything okay at The Manor?”

“S’all good. Call me when you arrive in Spain.” He hangs up before me, and I drop my phone into my lap, taking the wheel with both hands.

Shaking.

Because the question remains.

Who?

I’m staggered that she’s still sleeping by the time I pull into her parents’ street. “What a spot,” I muse, crawling along, seeing wet-suited bodies on the beach in the distance running into the water, boards under their arms. It’s sunny but gusty, the waves reliable for the surfers. I frown when we pass a quaint graveyard. “Interesting.”

Craning my neck to see the numbers on the walls outside the houses, I slow to a stop when I reach number twelve, a tidy semi by the sea. The perfect retirement home. And now I need to load up on patience to get me through the evening and into tomorrow morning before I can whisk Ava away to Paradise.

I reach for Ava’s knee and give her a gentle nudge, smiling when she yawns, stretches, and blinks. I unclip her seatbelt. “Where are we?” she asks, squinting at me.

“Cornwall.”

“Stop it.” She wriggles in her seat to wake up her muscles. “I need a wee.” Her hand reaches for the handle but stills, and I see realization fall into her as she takes in the surroundings. “You weren’t kidding?” she breathes, injured. “You’re dumping me on my mum?”

I laugh on the inside as I pull her face toward me. “Don’t threaten me with Cornwall.”

And she bursts into tears all over me, sobbing uncontrollably. Whoa! “Baby, I’m joking,” I say quickly. “Anyone would have to slice their way through me to get to you. You know that.” Jesus Christ, is this pregnancy? Will it make her forget who I am, what I stand for, what I need? I tug her across the center console, and she’s quick to hide in my chest, wetting my T-shirt with her tears.

I feel fucking awful. “Ava, look at me,” I demand softly, trying to encourage her out. My heart melts and breaks all at once at the sight of her dejection.

“I’m going to be so fat,” she says over a snivel. “Massive.” A sniff. “Twins, Jesse!”

Oh my God, what is she saying? She’ll be even more beautiful.

“You won’t...” She swallows, looking away.

Oh no, she’s not seriously thinking that? “Desire you?” I say in disbelief, and she nods jerkily. “Baby, that will never happen.” I only have to touch her and my dick pings to attention. That will never change.

“You don’t know that,” she sobs, her face bunched. “You don’t know how you’ll feel when I’ve got swollen ankles and I’m walking like I’ve got a melon wedged between my thighs.”

Laughter rises fast and falls out loudly. “Is that how it’ll be?”

She pouts. “Probably.”

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