Ambrose called her back.
It went straight to her voicemail.
“Barbara. I’m sorry. I. You’re right. I should have discussed it with you. I didn’t think. I just jumped right into it. I’m sorry. Barbara, I’m sorry.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Don’t leave me. Don’t cancel the wedding. Don’t push me away. Let me come back to you. Let me make this right. I love… Love, I love you. Don’t uninvite me from your home. I love you.” He broke into tears. “Barbara. I love you…so much. I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry. I. I—I don’t know what e…what else t—to say. I…” He ended the call and put his phone away.
Ambrose doubled over and buried his face in his hands. His body shook as he cried.
Robin scooted over to him and rubbed his back.
“Do you need me to take you back to Pinkerlee, sir?”
“I don’t know. I don’t…I can’t t…alk. I don’t…I…I..”
“Darnation.” Robin said softly. “And I thought I had it bad.”
Barbara curled up on her bed, still crying.
What if he gets staked?
We’re down to only seven days.
What if he gets staked? What do I do?
How will I breathe?
How will I…
What will I do without him?
She sat up and turned her phone back on. Her voice mail notification beeped at her. She ignored it and called Ambrose’s cell phone.
She closed her eyes as the phone rang.
It went to his voice mail.
“Ambrose. I hate that you just jumped ahead without thinking about me or about the consequences. But. I’m glad you called me. I’m glad you told me.”
In her mind, she saw a nameless, faceless hunter beat Ambrose down and stake him.
Her throat choked up. “Please. Come back to me. Help Raven and Missy and…please.” She cried. “Ambrose. Come home to me. Let me see you. Let me hug you. Let me kiss you. I love you. Kitten, I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone.”
Robin gently pulled Ambrose back and let him cry against his shoulder.
“I guess hurt is hurt. Don’t matter much how old you are.”
He wasn’t sure if it was helping or not, but Robin kept rubbing Ambrose’s back. “With a bit o’ luck, we’ll have a nice talk with the hunter and he won’t get thinkin’ about stakin’ none of us.”
Ambrose sniffed. “Do any of us ever have that kind of luck?”
Robin thought about it. “No. Not really. But maybe this’ll be the exception.”
Ambrose sighed. “Maybe. For the record, if you try kissing me or groping me or anything like that, I will punch your face off.”
“Dream on. You’re hot stuff. No denyin’ it. But you ain’t Isellta.” He leaned his head against Ambrose’s head. His hand went still. “I just want Isellta.”
“Keep rubbing my back. That feels good.”
Robin smiled and obeyed.