Adore Her, More of Her (Book 10: The Grand Finale of the Steamy Destinations Saga)

Daisy & Belmont’s epic love reaches its final test in this powerful grand finale, uniting every couple’s journey in the Steamy Destinations Series.

I balance on one foot and raise the other, pressing my heel against my thigh. As soon as I’m steady, I massage the sole of my foot. Yoga three times a week is paying off as far as perfecting my balance is concerned, but the bottoms of both my feet are killing me. I spent all day on them in the kitchen of Mes Fleurs Bakery today. Jeffrey and Rain—the senior bakers—and I were making special menu items for the final month of Christmas. Creating twenty-three different tasty desserts was easier in concept than in reality. From 8:00 a.m. all the way to 8:49 p.m., we whipped up croissants, éclairs, brioches, religieuses, madeleines, macarons, beignets, mille-feuilles, and a six-per-box assortment of petit fours. Baking was fun but exhausting. When I got home, I was surprised to see that Belmont hadn’t arrived. He was supposed to be here five hours ago. It’s our “both away” day. At least one of us is home with Ed, our son, four days of the week, and on the day both of us are out, Aunt Susan—my stepfather Joseph’s sister—comes over to babysit. Her estate, where she grows acres of pomegranate trees, isn’t that far away.
This morning, Belmont woke up earlier than I did, kissed me good-bye, and said he’d be home around five in the evening, depending on traffic. He drove from Montecito to San Francisco for a secured board meeting. I’m sure traffic leaving the city was a nightmare at around noon, but it should be all clear now. At any second, the headlights of his cream-colored SUV will be turning off the dark main road and onto our overly lit driveway.
“Hey, Daisy…”
Even though I know the speaker is not Belmont, I snap my face toward the doorway.
“You’re leaving?” I ask Melvin, our chef for “both-away” days and special occasions.
“Yep. Kitchen’s clean, and dinner’s warming in the oven.” His forehead wrinkles. “Jack hasn’t made it yet?”
I shake my head. “No, he hasn’t.” There’s no masking the concern in my tone.
Melvin looks past me and out the floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s raining pretty good.”
I purse my lips into a tight smile and nod. Tears flood my ducts, but I’m determined to not release them. I have no idea why feelings of dread and sadness have suddenly overtaken me.
Melvin shows me a big, optimistic smile. “The roads are wet. Knowing Jack, he’s taking it easy, making sure he makes it home safely.”
I fold my arms and gaze out into the wet night. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“I am right,” he says confidently. “So next week you won’t need me, right?”
I quickly turn away from the glass and direct my manufactured expression of confidence at him. “Right. We’ll be in Manhattan for all of next month.”
Melvin snaps his fingers. “Dallas, right?”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t Dallas Jack’s New York chef?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But who’s the better chef, him or me?” He’s grinning bigger than before.
I chuckle, welcoming the humor. “Well, you are, of course!”
He laughs. “Now, that’s the spirit.”
Now that the mood is lighter, Melvin waves good-bye. “Tell Jack I’m sorry I missed him.”
“I will,” I say.
We wave good-bye at each other one last time, and now I’m alone in this oversized room. My husband hasn’t lost his taste for grandeur, no matter how hard I tried to bring out his more modest side. He does have one. But he also has a burning desire to make me happy. In his mind, a big home means he’s a first-class provider.
A chill runs up my spine. I shudder and rub my bare arms. It’s chilly in here, and the fact that I’m missing Belmont makes me feel how huge and impersonal this space is. I need to call him and see how close he is to home.
I find the remote on the built-in shelf above the fireplace and lower the shades over the glass windows. I turn off the lights, walk into the foyer, and climb the floating staircase. Belmont has realized that we’re going to have to change the staircase out when Ed gets big enough to crawl and walk. These stairs are a child-emergency situation waiting to happen.
The smell of Ed’s sweetness caresses my senses as I pass his bedroom. My office is on one side of his room, and Belmont’s is on the other. I never pictured myself as a mother, even after I lost Joella, my first child. But I love being Ed’s mother. I show him pictures from his sister’s very short life every now and then, and every time he sees them, he smiles. Watching him smile and giggle at her wide eyes reminds me of how much I miss my brother Daniel.
I make it to my office. My cell phone is on the desk. I call Belmont. The line rings once and then drops. I grunt curiously and try again, and again. The same thing happens each time. I wonder where could he be? Maybe he left the office later than he intended. He has gotten stuck in emergency meetings before. He’s also had to travel out of the country at the last minute before. However, he’s always called and informed me of the change of plan. Then there’s the third possibility.
I flop down in my desk chair and clench my phone in both hands. It was over a year ago when Belmont told me the truth about himself. We had just completed a session with our therapist, Dr. Calvet. It was one of those sessions that was filled with tears and hugs. Belmont admitted that he’d been hiding secrets from me that had been destroying him from the moment he looked into my eyes the first time on Martha’s Vineyard. He said something stirred his soul when he saw the depth of my sorrow. We’ve sat through enough sessions with Dr. Calvet for me to know that from a very early age, he’d cultivated a deep desire to fix his mother’s depression, which in turn made him want to fix everyone else's. This desire to fix all the pain in the world was also linked to his secret, one he could only disclose to me.
I clearly remember the night after that session. As soon as we signed off from our videoconference with Dr. Calvet, we decided to shower and climb in bed to talk. My mind raced with possibilities of what he needed to disclose. Did he have another wife and family? Was he ill? Was he in love with another woman? I had no idea.
Ed’s soft sobs come through the baby monitor, and I put the phone back on my desk and rush into his room. Cell phones are not allowed near Ed because of the harmful radio waves. Ed is standing in the cradle, clutching the rails. His big, bright-hazel eyes and his smile stop me before I reach him. Gosh, he favors Belmont.
“Are you calling Mommy?” I say in a sweet voice reserved just for him.
He jumps excitedly and laughs. I rush over to him and swoop him up into my arms. I sniff his sweet skin and kiss his soft cheek. Realizing that Ed only wakes up this early for a few reasons, I go right into mommy mode and change his diaper and feed him Melvin’s special baby food, an avocado-and-sweet-potato blend. Once he’s dry and full, I lay him back down in his bed and sit in the corner chair to read Peter Pan in a soothing voice until he falls asleep.