A Blind Date With Her Cowboy Billionaire Boss by Hanna Hart

Author:Hanna Hart [Hart, Hanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book #2
Published: 2019-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Shelby

Shelby couldn’t sleep. Her mind was a haze of memories, whizzing by like pages of a photo album. Just as she went to grab a memory and reflect on it, a hand would turn the page and other conversations, smells, and feelings would come into view.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling above her. They were white square tiles. The kind you could push up and hide something in. She wondered if Whitney had hidden anything in the ceiling. Probably not.

Shelby thought about the non-date night she had shared with Colt. Then she thought about the wedding and how sweet he had been to her. He didn’t judge her or shame her for her feelings.

But they were both broken, she supposed, and you don’t judge someone for breaking when you yourself are shattered.

Her thoughts trailed to the kids, Isaiah and Eleanor, and how good they had been for her that day. Then she thought about Powell and Andrew and the little family she had created, only to watch it disappear in front of her eyes.

Andrew worked hard for their family, but he was gone a lot. He worked long hours and rarely came home to help with Powell, not even after he was first born. She understood at the time that they couldn’t afford for him to miss work, especially with her taking maternity leave, but she was left alone a lot and she was exhausted.

She’d come into the habit of taking Powell into bed with her. She was a light sleeper, so it was easy for her to wake up and check on him if he stirred. She’d even set up a wall of pillows against the edge of the bed as a protective measure.

Shelby had been up for days straight, with only the sparse nap in-between feedings, and she was beyond tired. She didn’t know humans could be that tired.

She lay Powell down next to her and drifted off for what only felt like a minute. But when she woke up, Powell had passed away.

Shelby blamed herself, as any mother would. She insisted she must have accidentally rolled on him, covered him with a blanket, or that he’d been smothered somehow.

But no. Doctors, her therapist, friends, family, and the official autopsy all said the same thing. It was SIDS.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wrap her conscience around it.

She’d gone into a fog.

“It’s not enough,” Andrew said after he’d tossed the divorce papers onto her lap. “I need someone who can be there for me.”

“Be there for you?” she repeated, incensed. “Be there for you?” she said again, louder this time. “If you were there for me, none of this would have happened!”

Andrew spun on his heel, his eyes dark and pained. He tried his best to stay calm as he said, “That's not fair, Shelby. I have never blamed you, not once have I ever, ever blamed you for what happened.”

“He's dead,” she said harshly. She wanted him to blame her. She wanted someone to be responsible for what happened.

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