Authors: Mina Carter
Once she had though, she wished she hadn't. The dressing room wasn't the smallest she'd ever had. Hell, she'd had apartments smaller than this. But somehow he seemed to take up all the room, dominate the space as though he owned it. It was that innate self confidence of his, she decided, wishing she could steal a little for herself and appear something other than over-heated, exhausted and heavily pregnant. Frazzled, that would be one way to describe it.
"Okay, you're in. Now what do you want?" she demanded, not caring that she was harsh. If he thought he could just turn up and expect her to welcome him with open arms, he had another thing coming.
He winced at her tone, raking a hand through his hair. A nervous gesture she realised, noting the dark shadows under his eyes and the lines of strain around his mouth. He looked like a man who had been kicked in the guts after losing a week's sleep.
He laughed, a short sound that had nothing to do with amusement.
"I don't know where to start. So I'll just come out with it."
He turned to her, his expression contrite. "Zette, I'm so sorry.
I shouldn't have done what I did. I guess..." he trailed off, shaking his head a little. "I don't have excuses for what I did.
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There
aren't
any excuses for what I did, the way I treated you."
Zette just stood there, not quite believing the words, what she was hearing. Hope began to blossom in her chest, her heart aching as she relaxed the stranglehold she'd had on it these last few months. Long months. But he still hadn't said what she needed to hear. He'd said sorry and for a man like JJ, with the way he'd treated her, she still wasn't sure this wasn't another elaborate stunt.
"No, there aren't," she agreed, her expression guarded.
"Was that it?"
"Dammit Zette! I'm trying to apologise, give me something to work with here!" he exploded, voice fraught with frustration as he took a step toward her. She stood her ground, glaring at him as her anger flared.
"Why the
hell
should I? In case you've forgotten, you were the one that was—"
He reached her in an instant, hands smoothing down her arms to take her hands before she realised, could stop him.
"I know baby, I know and I'm sorry," he said softly, his hazel eyes more green than brown as he looked down at her.
He held her gaze, thumbs stroking over the back of her hands. "I realise what a prize idiot I was, I can't say any more than sorry and ... I love you."
He looked down, as though he couldn't bear to meet her eyes anymore, waiting for her to say something. But she couldn't, the pain in her heart blossoming out to become hope and stealing her breath. Underneath her heart, the baby jumped and kicked, as though she knew her daddy was close 99
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by. A daddy Zette had thought she'd have to grow up just looking at in photos or pictures in the press. When she didn't reply, he pressed his lips together, his shoulders drooping in defeat.
"Thank you for listening to me, I didn't deserve even that."
His lips quirked. "Actually I was surprised to get through security." He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her temple.
"I'll leave you in peace, if that's what you want?"
His question hung in the air, shimmering between them.
She knew if she asked him to leave now, that would be it. He wouldn't bother her again. The JJ she knew, the one that had played games with their marriage and her heart, would. He'd have kept harassing her until he'd got what he wanted. But this man, the one standing in front of her with longing and hope in his voice, somehow she knew she was looking at a completely new JJ.
She took a deep breath and looked up, wondering whether she could take a chance with her heart again. Could she afford not to with her baby involved, a baby who deserved a chance to get to know her father?
"Say it again—" she asked, her voice breaking a little as she spoke.
It was all the excuse he needed, dragging her against his hard body and enfolding her in his arms. "Say what again love? That I'm sorry, thank you for listening to me or that I love you more than life itself? That if I ever cock up like that again I'll ... well, I won't. Not that badly. Not ever. But you can name your forfeit for if I even slightly piss you off. I'll do 100
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anything if you agree to have me back," he admitted gruffly, his eyes suspiciously wet.
She smiled through her tears and reached up to touch his face, smoothing her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.
Her heart filled with love and, more importantly, hope. Hope that they could turn this around despite its rocky start.
"How about breakfast in bed ... forever?" she replied gently, her answer in her eyes. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. "And you get up to feed the baby, when she puts in an appearance."
His eyes flicked down to her stomach, the hard swell between them. "Anything," he promised, wonder in his eyes as he reached down to touch it. He paused at the last moment, looking up for permission. Zette nodded, biting her lip as he knelt down. His big hands smoothed over her and inside she could feel the baby move, considering this new presence and deciding whether to batter the hell out of him with feet and fists.
But she didn't. Zette almost felt the happy little movement as, unborn, the baby moved against her daddy's hands and settled down to sleep. He smiled and planted a gentle kiss on the bump.
"She?" he asked, standing and drawing her tight against him. A shudder went through his big body as she leaned against him, letting him take her weight. Trusting him. "I suppose that means I have to put up with two bossy women about the place eh?"
Zette grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Yep. Just remember to do everything we say and you'll be fine."
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About Mina Carter
www.lyricalpress.com/minacarter.html Mina Carter can be found exploring in the middle of the English countryside with her real-life hero and their young daughter ... the true boss of the family. As a successful businesswoman, Mina never tires of learning new skills, qualified in such fields as Aromatherapy, welding and corsetry.
She juggles full-time mumhood, running a family business and writing, tossing another ball in the air with her cover artwork. For her, writing time is the wee hours of the morning or any spare minute that can be begged, bought or conned.
Her first stories were penned at age 11, when she used a stationery set meant for Christmas thank you letters to write stories instead. More recently, she wrote for her own amusement to save on outrageous monthly book bills, as well as for the masses of friends on her doorstep demanding longer stories. Now you'll find her reading and writing original worlds where romance is a must.
Mina's website:
mina-carter.com/
Reader email:
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Lyrical Press
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