No Perfect Princess (43 page)

“Do…do you guys want me to leave? I can come back later.”

“Maybe that would be better.” Killian answered.

“Please stay.” Claire said at the same time.

I looked between the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match. Yeeeahhh, something was up, and not in a good way. When Claire’s big brown eyes spilled over with tears, Killian sank fully to the couch with her, gathering her into his arms.

“I’m going. You two clearly need some—”

“I lost the baby.” Claire blurted it out then burst into tears. Killian stroked her back while she cried. He handed her the handkerchief from his back pocket.

“Mother. Fucker.” It just slipped out, but it was exactly how I felt. Margaux Asher, self-absorbed extraordinaire, had struck again. Had I actually come here to cry on her shoulder about my piss ant boy problem when she was dealing with this? The loss of a human life? I wanted to curl up in a ball of shame and roll out the front door.

I did the next best thing. Dropped to my knees next to the couch. “Oh, my God. When did it happen? No, wait; it doesn’t even matter. I’m so…sorry, you guys. I wish I could take all the pain away. I would do it in an instant.”

“We know that.” Killian gave me a brave but wobbly smile. Clearly, he was falling apart inside. The strain I’d sensed was likely his ongoing offer to God to take away every ounce of his wife’s agony. “The doctor can’t give us an explanation. He said it just happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean we can’t try again,”—he rubbed Claire’s shoulder, still papa bear protective—“when we’re feeling up to it. Doesn’t mean there’s something wrong, or that it will happen again.”

Suddenly, Claire yanked back from him. “Okay, just stop.”

The Charles and Camilla formality fell between them again. And what do you know, Kil rose and said, “I’ll go get you some tea, baby. You need to have more fluid.” He glanced at me, his eyes all but screaming
help me.
“And maybe some girl time.”

As soon as he left, tears welled in Claire’s eyes again. I scooted up, filling the spot Killian had just vacated next to her. “Hey, listen. It’s still so early, baby. Just give it time.” What was the other shit I always heard them say on dorky TV movies? “You and Kil love each other so much, and—”

“Have you ever had a miscarriage, Margaux?”

I reared but then almost grinned. Well, this was more like it. If she’d gone back to the Luna Lovegood whisper and all its forced politeness, I’d be out to cut up some of this fancy new room décor. This was sharp and sad and hurting and
real.
And if she thought it would get me off her back, she had another thing coming. Her sister was the queen of spouting shitty in times of deep hurt.

I hiked my head up and studied her closely. She sure as hell knew it, too. Back in the day, when we were still in mortal enemies territory, she’d seen this look from me a lot. I
knew
she wasn’t fond of it. “No, Claire, I haven’t. Nor do I know the exact thing to say to you right now. I do know that I love you, and that I’d lasso the moon for you right now, if that helped you feel better.” I stroked the hair hanging listlessly against her cheek. “But baby, I think the only thing that’s going to help this is time. And I
can
help hold you through that. So can that incredible guy you’re married to. And all
you
have to do is let us.”

Well, shit. Now the waterworks came on—for both of us. I looked up to see Killian standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clear from my sightline but not hers.

“I—I don’t want time, Margaux.” Her voice tremored. She pushed the back of a hand over her forehead. “I just want to be whole again. Make me not a failure…please. Make it so I’m not broken.”

I hugged her to me, meeting my brother’s destroyed stare. “Stop this,” I whispered. “What’s this you’re saying about failure? Why would you say something like that? What the hell gives you the idea that a miscarriage makes you a failure?”

“Oh God, Margaux. Isn’t it obvious?” Claire pulled back to push a heavy sob into the handkerchief. “Having babies is what a woman’s body is meant to do—but mine can’t even do that. I’m so screwed up, Margaux. I’m so…broken. How will he want to stay with me like this? He’s going to leave me. He’s going to be just like his father and go find another woman to make babies with. One who isn’t broken.”

“
Enough
.” I grabbed her by both shoulders. “I will not let you do this anymore, Claire. You will stop this bullshit
right
now.
You
are not broken.
You
are amazing and perfect and beautiful, just the way you are. Did you hear a word Killian said? Nature’s timing simply wasn’t right this time. It had nothing to do with you or your body.” I swung my head toward the kitchen. “And that man in there? He loves you, adores you, and worships you with a power that defies reason. You know how he looks at you, right? Like you have fucking fairy dust coming out of your ass? It’s
true
.” I stressed it in the face of her incredulous, soppy smile. “Aha.
There
she is!”

“Shut up.” She giggled but sobbed again.

“Not how I roll, honey. I’m going to keep hammering this in until you hear it. You’re stronger than this, Claire. You lived through the crucible of Asher and Associates, dammit. You’re better than this ‘poor me’ bullshit. Claire Allyn Stone doesn’t cry and say she’s broken. Claire Allyn Stone doesn’t give up after the first try. And I
know
that Claire Allyn Stone does
not
hand her sexy-as-sin husband over to other women to make babies with.”

She yanked me into a fierce hug. I held her tightly in return while she broke down anew. “I’m—I’m so heartbroken, Margaux.”

“I know, honey.”

“I already wanted it so much. I tried not to get into all of it, tried to stay unattached, but I already was thinking about it all the time. We heard the heartbeat last time we were at the doctor’s office. It was so fast and so strong. I don’t know how this could’ve happened. I did everything right; I swear I did.”

“Of course you did. So know that it just wasn’t meant to be. That sweet little bean wasn’t strong enough after all, but it wasn’t his fault
or
your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself. Yeah, I know that’s easier for me to say, that this has never happened to me. But you are young and healthy, and so is Kil. When you’ve both recovered, you’ll try again.” I growled because she’d already started shaking her head before I finished. “I
said
when you’re ready. Maybe that’s next week, maybe that’s next month. Maybe your doctor can give you some advice on how to best get through this.”

I exchanged a look with Killian. His nod told me he was already on top of it, before he reentered the room. “Here’s your tea, Fairy Queen. Just the way you like it.”

Claire wiped her eyes again with his handkerchief. She took the tea and smiled up at him, sliding over a little so he could join us. His black brows jumped a little at the gesture but he quickly took advantage of it. I guessed she’d been icing him out since the miscarriage, so I hoped my little lecture was already setting in.

With a small sigh, I rose. “Now I’m
really
going to get out of your hair.” It was clear the two of them needed to reconnect, and talking was going to be square one.

“Nooo, sister. Please stay.” Claire sipped at her tea but Kil stabbed me with his ink-dark stare, pleading for some time alone now that she’d warmed a little.

I didn’t need a second hint. “How about if I promise to come running the moment you call me in the next day or two?” I offered to Claire. “After you’ve had some proper rest. I could use a little alone time, too. Life’s been a little crazy lately.” Said the queen of irony. “I’ll just text Andre, make sure he’s back from his errands, then be on my way.”

Claire reached and squeezed my hand. “Fair deal. You can catch me up on things at the office, too. I need to get back in the swing of things, anyway. I’ll probably be ready to roll in a few days.”

“Easy, tiger,” Killian chimed in. “There’s no hurry. Let’s just play it by ear and see how you feel, okay?”

“Yes, Master.”

Kil grinned, even at her mockery. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Forget it,” Claire rejoined. I chuckled as I made my way back to the front door. Alfred appeared to see me out.

“Thank you for cheering Mrs. Stone up. She’s been inconsolable.” It was no secret how much the old guy had cared for Claire since the start of her romance with Killian.

“She’ll come around, Fred. She just needs some time.” I bumped my shoulder into him, throwing him off balance a little before heading out the door, to where Andre and the car were waiting for me.

I slid into the back of the car—and made a request that was beyond bizarre, even for me. “Take me to Torrey Pines, please.”

Andre stabbed a stare at me via the rearview. “The golf club, right? You have a meeting at the clubhouse or something?”

“No. The beach.” Silence. Dark eyes still in the mirror, now narrowed. “Am I speaking French?”

“Close to it.”

I turned my look into a glare. “What the fuck is the problem, Andre?”

“First? You said ‘please’.”

“And your point?”

“I can count on both hands how many times you’ve used the word in the last four years.”

“So I’m using it today. Mark it with a gold star.”

“And the beach? You? Willingly?”

“Oh, for—” I rolled my eyes and shot him a fresh glower. “Can you just do it, for chrisssake?”

He let out one of his barrel laughs while we rolled out of Kil and Claire’s neighborhood. “Aaahhh, there’s my girl!”

I had no idea why the beach called today. Maybe it was just the combination of great weather and a head badly in need of clearing. People always went on about the peace they found at the ocean, so it bore some checking out on my own. Full disclosure: it
was
second on the destination choices list. Normally, I’d just head to Saks, but was too afraid of committing a felony if I was around too many idiots today. The beach got its win over South Coast Plaza.

I rested my head back and closed my eyes, working to absorb everything that had just happened. Had only half a day gone by? I felt like I’d run a marathon already, and could easily fall into bed.

I decided to ignore the obvious crap about Michael and concentrate on Claire for now. I was devastated for her and my brother. The look on Killian’s face, as he’d looked on while she cried in my arms, would be seared on my soul forever. He was bereft. Barren. Broken.

No.

I refused to use that word one more time. No one in this situation was broken. They were grieving and sad for the little life that couldn’t fight hard enough to term. I understood that. But everything happens for a reason. I was smart enough to keep that gem to myself today, but they’d soon see that light, too. They’d come out on the other side of this stronger, and deeper in love than they were when speaking their “I dos”.

I just wish it hadn’t hurt so much to watch them suffer. Did this mean I was going soft around the edges? And if it did, who cared? Fuck it. Those two people were all I had now. They’d snuck their way so far into my heart, there was no chance in hell of ever getting them out. Not that I ever wanted to.

A heavy sigh escaped me. If I looked up, I knew Andre would be quizzing me about it in the rearview. Dammit. Why the hell hadn’t I ordered this vehicle fitted with a privacy screen? He knew me too bloody well and it was starting to get on my nerves. But to the man’s credit, he never pried.

“Andre?”

“Hmmm?”

“Where is your family?” I had no idea what made me ask. The words simply slipped out, and I realized I was deeply interested in the answer.

His forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“
Tu familia
?”

He barked out a laugh. Of course I knew he wasn’t Hispanic, but I loved teasing him that way—to which he usually responded in thick Patois, making
me
laugh.

No Patois today. Just very quiet, serious words.

“I don’t have any living relatives.”

Okay, then
. I respected him enough not to snoop. He had done me the same favor more times than I could count.

We took the exit for Torrey Pines State Beach, the place Claire told me Killian had proposed to her. Michael had threatened to bring me hiking here one time, but when I threatened harm to his boy parts if he did, he’d backed off. He’d never pressed me again, simply understanding that those “refreshing” physical activities weren’t my thing. Unless shopping was in that category—in which case, I was all in for daily training.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Andre queried. “I can follow and just give you your space.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I smirked. “I won’t last long out there in the elements. We both know it.”

Andre answered with a chuckle but had the good sense not to say anything as I kicked off my heels and headed for one of the easier-marked trailheads.

After wandering my way down toward the water, watching the crazy-ass people running through the crevices in the cliffs, I shook my head and concentrated on staying upright. The sand was a warm, soothing scratch between my toes. I dug in a little deeper and made my way down to the beach in no time, but already discerned the trip back up was going to be a suck-fest.

Later.

Scoping out a nice dry spot on the shore, I sat and watched the waves break over and over. Before long, the water’s rhythm lulled me. The tension in my shoulders eased, and the dull ache between my eyes vanished.

On tentative mental tiptoe, I entered the emotional muck that I’d come to figure out.

Michael
.

Waves or not, here came the tension again.

Breathe. Slow. Easy. Go step by step and maybe you won’t drown.

The last time we’d been together, he’d said some pretty harsh things. And though I’d kicked him out, one hideous fact remained.

I’d deserved every one of them.

I still did.

He was exactly right—and that was where everything turned to sludge again. Would I ever admit it out loud? Probably not, even to him—not that I’d ever be given the chance now.