Chapter 4
I looked up at him, my breath catching in my throat.
“I’m not a man who knows how to fix things with words, Clara,” he whispered, stepping a fraction of an inch closer. “I only know how to build. How to reconstruct. So I worked on this. Because I needed to prove to myself that something broken beyond recognition could be made to sing again.”
He reached out and turned the small brass key. A delicate, crystalline melody filled the kitchen—a slow, hauntingly beautiful waltz.
“It’s beautiful,” I managed to say over the lump forming in my throat.
“It still has scars,” he noted, tracing a glued crack on the lid. “But it plays. That has to count for something.”
Before I could process the profound vulnerability of his gesture, my intercom buzzed loudly. Frowning, I walked over and pressed the button. “Yes?”
“Dr. Clara? There is a woman here to see you,” the lobby attendant’s voice crackled. “She says her name is Victoria.”
Julian froze. All the warmth drained instantly from his face. “Victoria?”
“Who is Victoria?” I asked, my pulse quickening.
“My ex-wife,” Julian said, his voice tight with sudden, defensive anxiety.
Five minutes later, my door opened to reveal a stunning woman with sharp, intelligent dark eyes, an immaculate trench coat, and an aura of absolute command. She looked like a woman who brokered peace treaties and corporate mergers before her morning coffee. She stepped into the apartment, her eyes immediately finding Julian.
“Hello, Julian. I see you finally found your courage, though it took a trip to the ER to excavate it.” She turned to me, offering a warm, surprisingly gentle smile. “And you must be Clara. Thank you for opening the door. I presume you received the blanket?”
I stared at her, utterly bewildered. “You sent the gift? How did you even know about me? About the baby?”
“I have my ways,” Victoria said smoothly, taking off her leather gloves. “Chloe talks to me every night on FaceTime. She mentioned the ‘pretty doctor who looked very sad’ a few months ago, and then Friday night’s ER visit confirmed the rest. I put the pieces together.”
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“What are you doing here, Vic?” Julian asked, stepping protectively between us.
“Relax, Julian. I’m not here to mark territory. I abandoned that barren land years ago,” she said dryly. She looked at me, her gaze piercing. “I am here because I heard the rumors of a miraculous thawing of Boston’s Ice King, and I wanted to see the woman responsible. And, perhaps, to offer a word of warning.”
