Recaptured Dreams (27 page)

“Pregnant?” her mother fumed after Sophia had told her the news. “How could you be so careless?”

“Mother, please. I love him and the life we created—”

“Stop! I shall not have you raise a child when you are no more than a child yourself. I knew he was no good.”

The tears flowed freely from Sophia’s eyes. “I need him.”

“No. We’ll leave tomorrow, and you shall never see him again. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

Behind the wheel of her car, Sophia cried and held a hand to her growing stomach. She had stormed out of the house during a rainstorm after yet another fight with her mother. Delivery would only be a few more weeks away. She caressed her swollen belly. Her mother wanted her to give the baby away, but she’d refused. She’d held her ground and fought day in and day out. They had hidden Sophia away for the past seven months in Ireland, kept her from her home and her friends. Most of all, they had kept her from Xavier. Her heart clenched at the missing piece, and tears of need fell daily. She hated her mother for doing this to her, for making her face this alone and for trying to take away her baby.

The rain came harder and faster, and then it was ice crashing on her windshield instead of water drops. The road became slick, and Sophia lost control. Before she knew it, she’d slid right through a red light. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the truck coming. On impact, nothing but blackness followed.

She awoke to bright lights, stretched out on a hospital bed. A woman she would later come to know as her mother was by her side, holding a baby who was just a few months old. A man—her father—was there as well. Involuntarily, Sophia pressed a hand to her flat stomach, and a feeling of loss washed over her. Something was missing. Something was wrong.

“Tell me what happened,” she demanded of the people in her room.

“You’ve been in a coma for five months,” the woman with the baby replied. “What do you remember?”

“Nothing.”

Sophia squeezed her eyes tightly as the bits and pieces of memories flowed through her mind. All the loneliness she’d felt being so far away from Xavier. All the fights with her mother about her unborn child. All the terrible things Katherine had said about Sophia disgracing the family.

Sophia was terrified to open her eyes and look at Xavier, the man whose child she had carried. The man who had known about the possibility of that child and hadn’t told her a thing.

She cracked open her eyes. “You knew,” she whispered.

Xavier scowled, his face within inches of hers. “Knew what?”

Her stomach rolled with unease. She was panting now, her heading spinning and her heart racing. She could feel the pressure of Xavier’s hand on the back of her head and faintly heard the calming words he whispered in her ear.

But the damn trembling! It wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t control the memories that kept flooding her mind or the sting shooting through her veins. The hurt, the love, and the loss were all there—bearing down on her like a weight meant to crush the very life out of her.

And that whole time she’d spent with Xavier, he hadn’t told her about the pregnancy.

Not a bloody thing!

She pulled away from him.

He lurched back, eyes wide. Sophia winced at the resemblance between his face now and the one from her memory when she’d told him the news. The wind whipped across her wet face, quickly drying away the tears, and she was freezing now; the sound of the waterfall felt like scratches to her eardrums.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head furiously, aiming to control all the madness raging inside her. Her hand fluttered to her stomach, to the exact place of the scar Xavier had asked about.

A child.
Her body practically convulsed at the thought.

“Take me home,” she bit out.

He flinched at the harshness of her words. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.

“Please.” Her voice was hoarse but firm. She stood up and took several steps away from him. “I need to go home.”

“Sophia.” His voice cracked as he reached for her.

“Xavier, please. I
need
to go home.”

“Fine,” he relented as he rose. “I’ll take you back to the house.”

“No. I need to go
home.
”

Xavier stumbled back, clutching a hand to the front of his shirt. “Why?” he choked out. “If you just tell me—”

“Please, Xavier,” she said, quelling the aggravation in her voice. “You need to trust me. I
need
to go home. Now.”

Xavier paced around the house, waiting for Sophia to pack her bags. What had happened in that clearing? She’d looked so happy and carefree before she’d started quivering and had grown deathly pale. He’d held onto her for minutes trying to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right. But then she’d cut out his heart and told him she wanted to leave. And she wouldn’t talk to him or spare him a glance since.

He paced the foyer. If he let her go now, he was afraid she might never come back.

His cell phone rang, and he jerked it out of the holster on his belt.

“What?” he yelled.

“Jesus, Xavier!” Bryant yelled back. “What is up with you? Get yourself together. We’ve got a problem.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he hissed.

“Too bad.” Muffled curses and bangs rang out over the line. “Shut the hell up! I’m on the goddamn phone!”

Xavier rubbed his eyes. “You’ve got exactly ten seconds, and then I’m hanging up.”

“Since you’ve been on your little escapade with your woman, I’ve had a hard time keeping the show schedule up-to-date.”

“Did you miss—”

“No, XS has shown at every show on the roster. The problem now is Tokyo. Diera’s here, and apparently the two of you had an agreement to show a collective line at the grand finale and then speak at the following day’s
Trend Magazine
award ceremony. Does this ring a bell?”

Xavier cursed.

“She’s calling my phone every two seconds, leaving the same shrieking message every time: ‘
Where’s Xavier?’
Now, I’m sorry to interrupt your reunion, but you need to get your ass on a plane to Tokyo within the next twenty-four hours before Diera has a stroke and blames it on XS.”

The line went dead. A slew of curse words flew through Xavier’s head as he crammed the phone back in his pocket. Damn his luck. Just when he was certain Sophia needed him most, he had to leave her.

Chapter Eighteen

“S
OPHIA
,” X
AVIER
S
AID
as he walked her to the limo waiting at London’s Heathrow airport.

Wind blew between them, seeming to drag Sophia farther and farther away. She paused before reaching the opened door but didn’t turn around to face him, so he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Talk to me,” he demanded. Hell would freeze over before he let her walk away like this. She had been like ice last night. Eyes cold as steel during the flight. Lips resolutely clamped during the entire car ride. And now she hid behind dark sunglasses.

“Tell me. Please.” He couldn’t control his agony.

She shook her head wearily and twisted her elbow out of his grasp. His long arm circled her waist, drawing her to his body before she had a chance to retreat. He searched her face, looking for something, anything to help him.

Her bottom lip trembled.

“There’s nothing I can tell you now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Nothing that will help us…”

“You remembered something yesterday in the clearing, didn’t you?”

His arm held fast around her waist when she turned her head away from him. He swore the wind was going to rip her right from his arms.

“Damn it, Sophia.” He raked his free hand through his hair. “Just talk to me. Why won’t you let me in?”

Her face paled, and Xavier almost dropped to his knees right there. Sophia’s lips trembled more, and she parted them slightly as if to speak. To his surprise, she leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. He could taste the salt from her tears and felt her wavering.

She slid away and spread her hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Goodbye, Xavier.”

The door slammed behind her, and Xavier grabbed his chest. A knife to the heart. But he had no choice. He had to let Sophia go as she ran away from him.