After a minute, Cal lifted his hands, palms upward. “All right, so you have terrible taste in men—present company excluded, naturally. And you committed a few youthful indiscretions. You trusted the wrong people.”
“I got pregnant.”
Chapter 20
That one shocked him. His face went slack for an instant before he covered it up with a neutral expression. “I see.” He remained silent, waited her out.
“Are you going to ask what happened to it?”
He placed his hand over hers. “Only if you want to tell me.”
Monica took a shaky breath. “After Evan picked me up and brought me home, I just sort of checked out. I stayed in bed for days. I was ashamed and felt so goddamned stupid.” She tugged her hand back and curled her legs beneath her, pulling Cal’s shirt over them to cover herself. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life as she did right this minute. But Cal wasn’t looking at her with disgust. There was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. The lines of his body were tense, but he leaned toward her, as if he were barely holding himself back from reaching out. Seeing that compassion made her want to throw herself into his strong arms and never let go.
But Cal wasn’t hers to keep. So Monica sat up and lowered her feet to the floor. “A month later, I was still a wreck, but I found out I was pregnant. I knew I had to turn my life around. I had someone else to think about besides myself. I had to get my act together and quit making selfish choices. Then I lost the baby.” She tucked her hands under her thighs, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the low-setting sunlight beaming through the window.
“I’m so sorry, love.”
“Yeah, well, it’s probably for the best. I’d have made a lousy mother.”
“That’s simply not true,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone as caring as you. You try to cover it up, but you have the most tender heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”
With her jaw set, Monica slid him a sideways glance. “It was karmic justice.”
“What do you mean?”
Monica scrubbed her hands across her eyes. “I told you, Cal, I was relieved when my mom died. I lost my best friend, and I was glad. I’m not a good person at all, I’m awful. When I lost my own baby, it broke my heart, but I deserved it. I deserve every bad thing that happens to me. That’s why I work for the foundation. I couldn’t go back to being that thoughtless, rebellious girl. Not after miscarrying. Not after making such a mess of my life. My mom would have been mortified by my behavior. I let her down.”
“Come here.” When he held his hands out to her, Monica fell toward him. She buried her face against his solid chest. Then Monica Campbell, the girl who didn’t cry at her mother’s funeral, began to sob.
* * *
Cal hated feeling helpless. His poor Monica. She’d been in pain for so long. Holding her close, he rocked her gently in his arms and let her cry.
Monica was still suffering from grief and guilt. He couldn’t make that go away, but he knew firsthand how brutal and exhausting it was to watch a loved one die. He’d gone through it as an adult for eight months. Monica had been a needy child, enduring it for five long years. Of course she felt abandoned. A perfectly natural emotion.
And she hadn’t taken a job at the foundation because she needed to prove something to Allison. It wasn’t about responsibility at all. Monica was trying to atone for her perceived sins. That fact was so bloody obvious, he didn’t understand why no one else saw it.
Once her sobs slowed, Cal continued to stroke her, to soothe her as best he could. “I didn’t know your mother, but she managed to raise three beautiful, smart daughters. I think she’d want you to forgive yourself.”
She glared at him and pushed out of his arms. “You don’t know anything. I shared one piece of information with you—”
“Bullshit. You shared your biggest secret with me. Want to know mine? My biggest secret?”
“No.” She scooted away from him and tried to stand, but Cal snared her arm and pulled her back down.
“Babcock didn’t want me to know she was ill. She swore my mother to secrecy, but I found out from Paolo. I flew to her immediately. She was dying—congestive heart failure after way too many cigarettes over the years. And I hated her for that—for leaving me and for not seeing the doctor until it was too late, and for keeping it a secret.
“She shrank, Monica. Literally, she seemed to cave in on herself. By the end, there were days when she barely remained conscious. And Pixie never came to see her once.”
Monica drew a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“After she died, I’d get up every afternoon and head to the beach. Then sit and drink a beer every night. I’ve literally done nothing for the last five months.”
“You were grieving, Cal. You stayed with her until the end. That’s heroic.”
“But I didn’t want to be there.” Guilt flooded him, along with shame and self-loathing. “There were days I resented the hell out of her. She was meant to be the strong one.”
“Would you do it again?” she asked.
“In a heartbeat. When you were a teenager, you were overwhelmed by it all. And you didn’t deserve to lose your baby. Bad shit just happens.”
They sat in silence. Time slipped by until full dark descended. Cal felt a bit lighter. Talking with Monica helped. He could never have told all that to anyone else. Not Jules, not Pix. Only Monica.
After a while, she wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. “I should go. I shouldn’t have left work early.”
“You should stay. You haven’t had dinner yet.”
She gave a little laugh. One that held no humor at all. “I’m not really hungry.”
“I am.” He stood and walked to a lamp in the corner, flicking it on. The light drove away some of the shadows. Then he walked back to Monica and grabbed her hand. “You can watch me eat. Seafood or steak?”
“You’re super rich,” she said with a sniff. “Why not get both?”
Placing a hand on either side of her face, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good idea.”
“I’m not very good company right now.”
“Do I look like I need you to entertain me? I want you to stay.” When she appeared unsure, he caressed her cheek. “Please, Monica Taylor Campbell? Don’t force me to eat alone.”
She gazed up at him, her bloodshot eyes so sad he couldn’t bear it. “Okay.”
“Excellent. Go get a shower, and I’ll order dinner.” He turned her around and gave her bottom a light pat. If she’d insisted on going home, Cal would have followed her and sat in her driveway all night, just in case she needed him. He wanted to be her rock.
Monica would never believe that of him. She was too jaded by her past to have any faith in what Cal said. So don’t tell her, you git—show her.
How? Cal had no experience with relationships. Any time he stayed in one place too long, he’d immediately start feeling restless. He didn’t know how to be a partner. And he couldn’t offer her any guarantees.
Thrusting his hand in his pocket, Cal did what Babcock would have done in a crisis. She would have cooked his favorite comfort foods and told him stories of her childhood in Cairns, near the reef. Cal didn’t cook, so he dialed Mr. Lawson and ordered everything he could think of to tempt her. He could tell her about zip-lining across the jungles of Peru or the giant Buddhist prayer wheel in China.
As he waited for her to get out of the shower, Cal stepped onto the terrace and called Pix. He rubbed at his eyes as he waited for her to pick up.
“Calum,” she answered. That was all she said, all she needed to say. He heard her pain, and it echoed his own.