* * *

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.

“You let me down, Mum. You let her down.”

“I know. I wish I could make it up to you, but I can’t. I assumed you called to tell me good-bye. I’m rather surprised you’ve stayed in town this long.”

After the revelations Cal had shared with Monica, he should be throwing everything he owned in a bag and hightailing it to the airport. Don’t get attached. He’d lost sight of the one lesson that had served him well, and become smitten with Monica. He didn’t know how long he’d stay, but he wasn’t ready to leave her yet.

“No, but I’m flying to L.A. with Jules next week. She has her court appearance.”

“Oh. Wish her luck for me?”

“I will.” Cal hesitated, didn’t know what to say. Dealing with his emotions—it was all slightly embarrassing. “I’ll talk to you when I get back?”

“Thank you, Calum.”

He ended the call and turned to see Monica standing at the entrance of the French doors. The lights from the living room silhouetted her. She still wore his shirt. It hung over her trousers, making her appear tiny. She’d draped the jacket over her forearm.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren’t. I was talking to Pix. You were right this morning, I’ve been avoiding her.” Cal wiggled a finger at her. “You didn’t have to get dressed on my account.”

“I’m leaving.” She said it with such finality, it was a punch to his solar plexus.

“What?” With long strides, he walked to her. Her eyes were still red, her face free of makeup. She looked younger and more vulnerable than she had five years ago. He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “I ordered a vast amount of food. I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

She shrugged. “I’m still not hungry.”

Cal wrapped his hand around hers and laced their fingers together. “I thought we agreed you’d stay.”

Monica tugged her hand from his and took several steps backward. “Cal.” She swallowed and rubbed her palm over her hips. “I really… I care about you. A lot.”

“I care about you too.”

“That’s why I have to leave. I think we should end this. And I’m serious. I don’t want you calling me or sending me gifts. Let’s just make a clean break.”

“What are you on about?” With narrowed eyes, he took a step forward.

She didn’t back up. Instead, she extended her arm to keep him away. “I know you can’t stay in one place for long. It’s not who you are. But that’s what I need. I need someone in my life who won’t leave.”

“Because I can’t give you any guarantees, you want to end it altogether? In typical Monica fashion, you’re running scared.” His harsh tone dared her to deny it.

“Yeah. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“The truth. How novel.”

“If I get in any deeper with you, I’m going to wind up hurt. I’m protecting myself. You of all people should understand that. That’s why you never settle anywhere—so you don’t have to get close to anyone.”

“Don’t do this, Monica. We have a connection, you and I.”

She dropped her arm. “Can you promise you’ll be around next month?”