Let's Pretend (Romantic Comedy, Contemporary, Second Chance, Sensual) by Monique DeVere Page B

shrugged and headed back to her room now the excitement had dwindled.
    Belle was vaguely aware that Gran didn’t seem in the least surprised by all the revelations that had been flying moments ago.
    As she turned to help her mum and Julianne with Tommy, Luc grasped her wrist. “He has enough women to look after him, and I doubt Mia has given him more than a bloody nose. I’m sure Vicki can handle a simple nosebleed.” He strolled toward Belle’s room, impelling her to follow with a gentle tug. “You and I are going to talk, whether you like it or not.”
    ~*~
    “I’M STILL waiting for an answer to my question.” Luc closed the bedroom door with a sharp snap. “Why did you end our marriage, Isobel?” His gaze bore into hers. “And don’t bother to come up with some smart way to avoid answering. I refuse to let this subject lie until I have my answer.”
    Belle would’ve welcomed any smart thoughts. Unfortunately, she’d stopped thinking the moment Luc had uttered the words, whether you like it or not . Now the conversation she’d avoided for two days faced her in the form of a sexy, determined Luc. She took a deep breath as she sat on the foot of her unmade bed. He wanted to know after all this time—fine, she’d tell him. “I can’t handle what you do for a living.”
    Judging from his stunned expression, whatever he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. “ That’s your reason?”
    “I know it seems frivolous, and I wish I could claim our clashing work hours or something less selfish, but there you have it. I simply can’t handle your job.”
    His frown tugged his brows tight. “Since when?”
    Belle smoothed her clammy palms over her jean-clad thighs. “Since Will had his accident and I was the attending surgeon.” A huge, fiery ball of dread sank into her stomach. Luc was going to think she was a coward. Running scared at the first glitch.
    “That was close to two years”—an expression of realisation crossed his face—“ago.” He came to sit next to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “For the same reason you wouldn’t tell me if you had a problem with my job. You love what you do. You’re a firefighter, Luc. I knew this before I married you. But when I walked into the theatre and saw Will lying on that table, I nearly passed out. He was covered in blood with this huge piece of glass sticking out of him, and all I saw was you. Up until then, it never crossed my mind that you could get hurt...or worse. Not until Will’s injuries slammed it home.” Tears stung her eyes and came too fast for Belle to hold them back with rapid blinks. “I couldn’t go on if something happened to you.” She grabbed the tissue box from the bedside table and pulled out a couple of tissues, clearing the husk from her throat as she tried to stem the salty flow of tears. “I can’t live each day wondering if this will be the day you get hurt.”
    “So you’re going to throw away everything we have on the off chance I might get injured?” He jumped to his feet, pacing as an indication of his helplessness. “Belle, sweetheart, I could lose my life driving to or from work. A couple weeks ago, my crew and I answered an accident call. A supermarket delivery lorry had collided with a motorcycle killing the rider. We were putting sand on the road to cover the blood and oil when a car pulled onto the hard shoulder. A woman got out and ran toward us, yelling, ‘That’s my husband’s bike, is he okay?’ She was frantic when we told her he didn’t make it. All I could do was hold her while she cried.” Luc squeezed his eyes shut at the memory for a moment. “She had three children, all under five, waiting in the car. Can you imagine how she must have felt in that moment?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Women lose husbands every day, and it has nothing to do with their jobs.”
    Belle’s heart broke for the small children who had lost their father so tragically. She had an idea of how they