Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(33)

“Libby.”

It wasn’t Sharon. It was Dr. Stone. Why, oh why, did it have to be him?

“I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you,” he said from behind her.

Libby refused to turn around. “Another time.” Somehow she managed to eke out the words. All she wanted was for him to leave. He was the last person in the world she wanted to speak to right now.

“Okay.”

But he didn’t leave. Instead he stayed right where he was. Libby wanted to shout at him to go away. Why did he linger when she so badly wanted him gone?

“I have a feeling something’s wrong here.”

She wondered sarcastically if all men were this intuitive. “Please, would you just go?”

Instead he stepped closer.

“Leave me alone,” she demanded between gritted teeth, fire in her words and in her spirit. Then to her absolute horror the dam broke and she burst into tears. She whirled around, intent on leaving the nursery. If he insisted on staying, then fine. What she didn’t realize was how close he was behind her, and she abruptly bumped into him. That was all it took. Unable to stop herself, she buried her face in his chest and cried. The room filled with the sound of her heart-wrenching sobs. Her entire upper body shook with the force of her tears.

“Ah …” Phillip’s arms remained at his sides. Then he bounced his hand against the top of her shoulder a couple of times. “I’m sure it isn’t that bad.” The words sounded stiff and awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say.

Unable to hold back the sobs, the grief, and the profound sense of loss, her knees started to give way. She might have collapsed to the floor if Dr. Stone hadn’t caught her.

He wrapped her in his arms; Libby tried to break away but he held her fast against him and his voice turned soft and kind.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered. “Whatever it is will work out.” Anything else she might have been able to resist, but not gentleness.

Phillip held a sobbing woman in his arms. He didn’t know what had happened to cause this meltdown, and Libby was in no condition to tell him. Through the years he’d dealt with plenty of emotional women, but the context was completely different. He’d had on his doctor hat and they were mothers worried about their children; he would hand them tissues and say what he could to reassure them, filling in the medical details they needed to know.

He would never embrace them, not the way he was holding on to Libby.

She clung to him, her arms around his waist and her face buried in his chest, as she released what appeared to be years of stockpiled tears. She sobbed as violently as if it were the end of the world, as if there was nothing left for her to live for, and she’d lost everything that would ever be precious. The need to comfort her overwhelmed him and he pressed his cheek to the crown of her head.

It’d been awkward at first, seeing her cry like this. He’d had his chance—she’d asked him to leave, and by all that was right he should have taken his cue and vacated the nursery. Instead he’d found it impossible to walk away.

He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t know what to say, and had only managed a few hackneyed words that he doubted she’d even heard. That was probably for the best.

“Shh, shh,” he whispered, rubbing his hand over the back of her head, wanting to comfort her, needing to comfort her.

“My … my ex-husband,” she said, the words muffled against his chest.

“He was here?” Phillip was beginning to imagine what might have happened.

She nodded, her forehead rubbing against his shirt.

“I … I held his … son.”

“You’re still in love with him, then?”

“No.” The lone word was nearly shouted.

“Okay, sorry, you aren’t in love with him.”

“He’s married … he has a son.”

Phillip tried to follow her, knowing he wasn’t always the most intuitive man around.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered, breaking away. “I have to go. Really, I need to go.” Abruptly, she turned away from him and nearly stumbled.

Phillip would have stopped her if he’d known what to say. But before he could think clearly Libby had grabbed her purse and was gone.

Chapter 12

Still shaken, Libby returned to her condo, sank into her sofa, and buried her face in her hands. It felt as if her entire world had crumbled at her feet. Seeing Joe and his son had been devastating, bringing into stark reality every single regret she’d been struggling with lately. To make everything ten times worse, Phillip Stone had witnessed it all. To break down in front of him … of all people. Libby wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and hibernate for the next ten years.

Phillip Stone was a complete enigma. On the one hand he was both rude and arrogant, and on the other he’d been gentle, caring, and kind. As far as Libby was concerned, he was the perfect candidate for intense, deep emotional therapy. He was a doctor, all right. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde … two completely different people. The first was infinitely easy to dislike and distrust and ignore. The second made her want to bury herself in the comfort of his arms and let him hold her for the next twenty years. Just thinking about the way she’d melted down in front of him caused her acute embarrassment. She’d never be able to look him in the face again.