The Billionaire's Housekeeper (Betsy Jones Book 1) - Unedited

The Billionaire's Housekeeper - Chapter 11

The air was cold and strangely empty the morning of the twenty sixth.

Looking across at his passenger, Nick forced himself not to frown. It was a difficult task. Betsy was usually lively and smiling – always smiling. Yet, as she stared out of the window, her face was pale and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her arms were wrapped around her middle almost as if she was trying to hold herself together.

To give him something to do and to fill the empty air between them, Nick stretched out his hand and turned on the radio. Immediately overly chirpy pop music filtered through the speakers but it was preferable to the heavy silence. Even though he had experienced his own loss, it was difficult to help the small blonde when she was doing everything in her power to close herself off from him.

The song changed and a ballad filtered through the air, the sombre notes hanging between the pair so thick and heavy he could almost feel the weight of it bearing down on his shoulders. A strange mewling drew his attention briefly off of the road. Glancing over, Nick felt an ache in his chest as he watched Betsy stifle a sob on her fist, a solitary tear coursing down her cheek as she kept her gaze steadfastly upon the world flicking past her window.

Cursing softly, Nick smacked the button so that the music cut off abruptly. Betsy continued to try and stifle her cries. She failed. Clenching his hands around the wheel, he fought back the urge to pull the car over and comfort Betsy. Instinctively, he knew that she did not want his comfort right now. One kind gesture would cause her composure to shatter.

Nick clicked on his indicator as they approached the cemetery and then pulled into one of the parking bays. He cut the engine and remained perfectly still as he waited for the woman beside him to make a move. But Betsy did not move. It was as if she was looking but not really seeing the world around her. The only sign that she was still even alive was the shuddered rise and fall of her chest as she attempted to regain her composure.

Reaching out a hand, Nick placed it gently on Betsy's shoulder and gave it a slight shake. Gasping loudly, she whipped her head around. Her eye lids fluttered as she finally came back to the present.

"We're here." He murmured softly, his eyes watching her closely. "Do you need me to come in with you?"

Betsy still looking rather dazed turned and stared out of the window. As her eyes fell upon the fence and the row upon row of white headstones beyond it she gulped loudly. Her hand shook as she released the door and the chill air seeped into the car.

"Elizabeth? Betsy? Do you need me to come with you?" He asked, tightening his grip on her shoulder so that she would actually look at him.

She shook her head. "No," the blonde stated even as her tired eyes met his. "I need to do this by myself."

Ignoring the way that her voice cracked and the way that she attempted to dislodge his hand, Nick stared into her eyes, drinking in the overwhelming sadness within the depths of her gaze. Finally he nodded his head.

"Okay," he whispered.

It took all of his concentration to loosen his grip on her shoulder. But he did and moments later she had slipped out of the car and was walking through the gate into the cemetery. He rubbed at his chest as he watched her hunched form wander morosely through the rows of headstones, her eyes on the floor but her steps unwavering.

Leaning forwards, Nick rested his hands on his arms and let loose a long sigh. He hated this. He felt helpless – something he was not accustomed to. He had dealt with his own grief but until Betsy was ready to allow him in he could do nothing for her. He combed his fingers through his hair and tugged on the short strands.