The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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       Thirteen

      Evangeline lay on the bed and wiped her eyes for the fortieth time. Morning sickness was worse than a slow death at the hands of sadistic monkeys. Crackers didn’t help. Ginger ale didn’t help. Cursing Matt didn’t help and usually made her cry. Like now.

      She craved his egg-white omelets with every pregnancy hormone in her body. All the other hormones craved him.

      How could she still be so torn apart over a man who’d stripped her down to her base layer and then rejected her? She’d taken a huge leap of faith and trusted him enough to fall in love, only to be crushed. Again.

      Really, she couldn’t be angry with him. He hadn’t lied to her. She’d been lying to herself about what he needed. He’d rather suffer than get over Amber.

      But she was angry. And devastated. So much so, she couldn’t stand to be around him any longer. The look on his face when she’d threatened to disappear had nearly killed her, but what else could she do?

      Vincenzo’s cousin, Nicola, knocked on the open door. “You need something, cara?”

      “Thanks. I’m okay.” She wasn’t but Nicola didn’t have any magic capable of fixing her broken heart. Thank God she’d come to Monte Carlo, where people understood her.

      “We go to a club soon. VIP lounge. No paparazzi. You join us?” The elfin woman raised a brow. “Maybe you meet someone new who helps you forget.”

      Ha. If only. “I better pass. I doubt someone new would care too much for me running to the bathroom every five minutes.”

      The effort required to simply get dressed was enough of a deterrent to a night out. Then there were the smoke machines, which probably pumped out fumes toxic to a baby. Flashing lights were guaranteed to give her a headache. Cocktails would flow—watered down most likely, but with enough alcohol to render them off-limits.

      Of course all of that was just noise. She missed Matt, missed Venice, and nothing else held much appeal.

      Nicola nodded and left her alone.

      Evangeline bit back an urge to call after her, to beg her to come back and sit awhile. But Evangeline didn’t want to be a burden on her nonpregnant friends. Which was all of them.

      Still, Monte Carlo was beautiful. Outside the window of her room in Nicola’s high-rise condo, the city unfolded in a myriad of lights, energy and people, generating an exciting vibe that spilled out into the Mediterranean via the hundreds of yachts lining the shore.

      Alone time was good. She’d come here to feed her newly awakened muse. Now she had plenty of time to see what new brilliance flowed from her fingers.

      But instead of reaching for the paper and pen on her bedside table—which had sat untouched for two days—she retrieved the printed page from under her pillow and unfolded the song she’d written in Venice the night she’d fallen asleep on the couch.

      She’d probably read these words a hundred times now. The theme of connection ran through every line. Of course, because she craved it. Losing her voice had been devastating because it was the link between her and the listener.

      But the song spoke to a different kind of connection. One between people, but deeper than the superficial link between a singer and a fan. It was about bonds, family. Things she’d never had at any point in her life, but somehow the right expression had come from her soul.

      Because Matt’s soul spilled over into hers with his strong sense of unity, goodness...and now she was crying again. How could she have gleaned so much from his depths when he’d closed himself off? It shouldn’t be possible. But the evidence was on the page.

      It was definitely a good thing she couldn’t sing this. She’d never get through the whole thing without breaking down. Sara Lear would do the song justice, and it would be a nice hit for her already-stellar career.

      Why couldn’t she imagine Sara singing it? Professional jealousy? Probably.

      She read the words again. She had to let go. This was part of moving on, something she must find the strength to do. Her voice was gone, but she had a baby on the way. One day, she’d like to look her child in the face and be able to say I overcame a huge struggle. You can, too.

      One day, she’d like to tell Matt how he’d helped her realize she was more than just a voice, more than Eva. She still had something of value to give.

      The song was proof.

      All at once, she knew why she couldn’t imagine Sara Lear singing this song. Sara didn’t need a hit song writer—she had plenty of those barking at her door. Evangeline hadn’t written this song for Sara, but for someone else entirely.

      And now was the right time to give it away.

      Before she could change her mind, she picked up her phone and dialed. “It’s Evangeline. Your sister.”

      Family.

      What had started as a simple phone call was actually much more profound. Her heart hadn’t just been opened to Matt, but to a whole new world of connection. Even though he’d devastated her, he’d also introduced the wonders of permanence, longevity—all only possible if she allowed roots to grow.

      “Hi.” Lisa’s surprise came through the line clearly in the one short word.

      “Sorry to call you with no warning.” How did you build a relationship from scratch? Start slowly or jump in with both feet? “I’ve been going through a tough time and I wanted to apologize for losing touch. СКАЧАТЬ