Читать книгу Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection - Christy McKellen - Страница 15

CHAPTER SIX

‘WHAT THE HELL is this?’ Emma heard Jack growl under his breath to his father as his mother tripped over to greet her friend with an exaggerated air kiss.

Emma knew exactly why he was so angry. The more fuss they made about being a happily married couple, the harder it would be to let the relationship dissolve without a lot more press attention.

‘Surely you don’t mind having people know how happy you are to be married to each other?’ his father said loudly with a glint of devilry in his eyes.

He had them trapped. There was no way they could refuse to do this without it looking suspect. Clearly Jack knew that too because he gave her an extra hard squeeze as if asking her to play along.

She turned to smile at him. ‘Of course we don’t mind, do we, darling?’ she said, hoping her expression relayed her understanding of the situation to him and her acceptance of it.

A whole conversation passed between them in that look and Jack finally nodded curtly and turned to the new additions to their group and said, ‘What exactly did you have in mind?’

‘We only have time for a couple of photos today if we’re going to squeeze you into the next issue, but I’ll come over to your house in a week or so and do a more in-depth interview for an “At home with the Earl and Countess of Redminster” feature,’ Perdita said in a gush of fawning enthusiasm. ‘For starters I’d like to get some lovely shots of the happy family together.’

Reluctantly, they allowed themselves to be herded into a tight group in front of the looming marble fireplace in the centre of the room and Emma found herself standing between the marquess and marchioness, pressed up tightly to Jack, with her back flat against his broad chest and his arms wrapped around her waist.

‘Love’s young dream!’ Perdita gushed, giving them an insipid smile that made Emma squirm inside.

Heat rushed through her as she felt Jack shift behind her, his arms tightening infinitesimally to press a little harder into her pelvis, only increasing the heavy pounding of her heart. The fresh, exotic scent of his aftershave mixed with his own unique scent enveloped her, making her head swim.

He’d always smelled good. More than good. In fact in her younger days after being with him she used to hold the clothes she’d been wearing up to her nose and breathe in his lingering scent. She’d not been able to get enough of it.

She still had one of his old sweaters at home that he’d loaned to her one day when they’d gone on a cold walk together, just days before they were married, which she’d deliberately not given back so she could sniff it at home like some kind of Jack junkie.

She remembered with a twang of nostalgia how full of hope she’d been that day, how excited about their future together. The intensity of her love for him had taken her breath away, robbed her of all common sense, made her dopey with happiness.

The day she’d married him had been the best day of her life—and the worst.

She could still remember the feeling of absolute horror and helplessness when she’d arrived home after their clandestine marriage—her one and only rebellion in a life of respectful rule-following—ready to tell her parents that she was going to move to America to build a life with Jack there, only to find her mother prostrate on the sofa, her face a sickly white and her eyes wild with grief. She’d rushed to her, panicked by the look on her face, and her mother had told her in a broken voice filled with tears that her father was dead.

She’d spent the next few hours desperately trying to hold herself together for the sake of her mother, who had totally fallen apart by then, as if Emma’s appearance had released her from the responsibilities of dealing with her husband’s death.

In her state of shock she’d ignored the calls on her mobile from Jack, who had been waiting impatiently for her to meet him in the hotel room they’d booked, where they had been going to celebrate their wedding night together.

Eventually she’d called him, finding him in a state of frantic worry, and explained what had happened, feeling as though she was looking down at herself from above. Jack had wanted to come over and be with her, to help in some way, but she’d told him no, that it would only distress her mother more to have him in the house and that she didn’t want to have to explain his presence there. She wasn’t going to tell her they were married, it wasn’t the right time.

That moment was the point at which their relationship had begun to unravel. She recognised it now, in a flash of clarity. She’d pushed him away, rejecting his love and support, and it had hurt him more deeply than she’d realised at the time.

So it was absolute torture, standing there enfolded in his arms once again, but this time having to fake their love for the camera so that strangers could gawp at their lives as if it was entertainment.

If only her father hadn’t died, maybe they would have still been blissfully happy together today.

If only...

But there was no point in wishing she could change the past. It was futile and a waste of energy. Instead she needed to look to the future with positivity and have faith that she’d find happiness again there.

‘Ooh, that’s a lovely one,’ Perdita purred from the other side of the room as her photographer snapped another shot and it appeared on the screen of a laptop Emma had seen him toying with earlier.

‘Let’s just have one of the happy couple on their own now, shall we?’ Perdita said with a cajoling lilt to her voice. Emma thought she and Jack had been doing a convincing job of looking comfortable with each other, but there was a strange gleam in the journalist’s eye that she didn’t like the look of. Did she suspect all wasn’t quite as it seemed? Probably. It was her job to see past people’s façades and get to the heart of a story, after all.

Emma swallowed hard, but managed to keep her smile in place.

The rest of Jack’s family moved away from the stiff tableau they’d formed for the photo and went to perch on the nearby sofas to watch the rest of the show.

‘When will the next issue of the magazine come out, Perdie?’ Jack’s mother asked, her eyes glued to the way Jack’s arms were still wrapped around Emma’s middle as if she was looking for something to criticise.

‘In a couple of days. We’ll just be able to squeak them into the next issue along with some upbeat captions about them renewing their vows.’

Jack’s arms tightened around her and her heart jumped in her chest in response.

‘What makes you think we’re going to renew our vows?’ he snapped.

‘I told Perdita that’s what was going to happen, dear,’ Jack’s mother broke in. ‘It’s such a prudent course of action, what with being so suddenly reconciled after all this time. And it means all your friends and family will be able to celebrate your union with you this time.’ Despite the cajoling note in her voice Emma clearly heard the undertone of steel in her mother-in-law’s words.

Jack didn’t say anything more, but she could practically feel the waves of frustration rolling off him.

‘The full interview will be in the next issue because there just isn’t room for it in this one and we’ll want to do a nice big spread,’ Perdita went on gaily, apparently enjoying the drama that was unfolding in front of her. Emma guessed she could see a whole career’s worth of titillating stories in the offing.

‘I had a fight on my hands finding some room for these pictures, to be honest,’ Perdita went on. ‘We had to bump a spread on Fenella Fenwicke’s third wedding.’

Tripping over to where she and Jack stood shifting uncomfortably on their feet, she put a cool hand onto Emma’s wrist.

Emma had to work hard not to whip her arm away from the clingy covetousness of the woman’s grip.

‘Now then. Shall we have one of the two of you looking adoringly into each other’s eyes? That should play well with our readers.’

Emma’s heart sank. She was going to have to look into Jack’s eyes with the same insipid expression she’d been struggling to maintain for the past twenty minutes and still hold it together.

What if he saw past her nonchalant façade and noticed how she was desperately trying to hide how much she still cared for him? And what if he didn’t actually care about her any more and she saw it there clearly in his face? How would she cope when all these people were watching them?

Taking a breath, she steeled herself against her trepidation and turned around to look at him.

Jack looked back at her, his green-flecked hazel eyes filled with an unnerving intensity behind his long dark lashes.

Emma’s heart thumped hard against her chest as she forced herself not to break eye contact with him.

He was so outrageously handsome it dragged the breath from her lungs.

But handsome didn’t keep her warm at night, she reminded herself. It didn’t make her feel secure and loved, wanted and treasured.

Safe.

Falling in love was a precarious business, full of hidden dangers and potential heartbreak, and she didn’t know if she could bear the idea of being that vulnerable again. Not when she’d already experienced how quickly and catastrophically things could go wrong.

After a few more seconds of torture, Jack and Emma holding the same pseudo loving pose for the camera, Perdita finally clapped her hands together and gave a tinkling little laugh.

‘That’s it! Perfect. I think we have all we need for now.’ She turned to Jack’s mother. ‘I’ll let you know when the issue with the pictures is out, Miranda.’

‘Thank you, Perdie. You’re a good friend.’

And a shrewd businesswoman, Emma thought with a twinge of distaste. Those pictures would probably be worth a fortune if she leaked them to the papers, not to mention the career-enhancing glory of getting the scoop for her magazine.

‘I’ll call you about setting up that at home interview in a couple of days,’ she shouted across to Jack and Emma as she bustled about, gathering up her bag and laptop.

After another minute of fussing and gushing pleasantries with the marquess and marchioness, Perdita finally left in a flurry of kisses and a blast of expensive perfume and the atmosphere in the room settled into an unnerving hum of prickly discontent.

* * *

Jack had had enough of his parents’ intrusion into his affairs.

‘Right, well, now this circus is over we’ll be leaving,’ he said to them.

‘Wait, Jack, why don’t you stay a little longer so we can get to know our new daughter-in-law a bit better?’ his mother said in an appeasing tone, bustling over to where he and Emma stood.

He didn’t like the glint of mischief in her eyes. No doubt she would spend the time grilling Emma in the hope of getting her to admit to something they could use against her later.

There was no way he was letting that happen.

‘You got what you wanted. We put on a good show for the sake of your image as invested parents-in-law, so now you can leave us alone,’ he snapped.

‘Jack, we just want what’s best for the family—’ his father began.

‘No, you don’t,’ Jack broke in angrily, ‘you want what’s best for you. Well, I’m doing what’s best for us and that means getting the hell away from this toxic atmosphere. Come on, Emma.’ He held out his hand to her.

She took it, wrapping her fingers tightly around his, and he was alarmed to feel how much she was trembling.

She’d projected such an outwardly cool exterior throughout the whole debacle he was surprised to discover she seemed to be suffering just as much as he was.

‘I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, Clare,’ he said, turning to his sister.

He was grateful that she’d stuck around to be here today. It had been good to have another ally for Emma in a strained situation like this.

And he was glad for the opportunity to see his sister again; he’d missed her open smile and level-headed, easy company while he’d been living away in the States.

Clare gave them both an understanding smile. ‘You must both come up to Edinburgh soon,’ she said, her expression telling him there was no way she was letting them get away without seeing her for that long again.

He just nodded at her, uncomfortably aware that he and Emma might not be together for very much longer so there was no point in trying to arrange anything with his sister for the future.

He’d work out how to handle all that later though.

Right now he wanted to get Emma out of there and as far away from his parents as possible.

They left without another word, Jack aware of his parents’ disgruntled gazes on his back but not giving a fig how they felt about him laying down the law to them. No way was he going to let them try to run his life.

Back outside he opened the passenger door for Emma and watched her slide into the car, as graceful as ever—struck by how even in the most difficult situations she still managed to maintain her poise—then went round to the other side of the car and got in next to her.

They drove away in silence, Emma watching out of the window as the car made its way down the long driveway, glancing back to look at the house as if concerned that his parents might come out and hotfoot it after them.

She caught his eye and he gave her a tight smile, which she returned.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, half expecting her to shout at him now for putting her through that. ‘I’m sorry about them landing a journalist on us like that. I know how you must hate them after what they did to your family when your father died.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Jack. It’s fine,’ she said, but he was sure he saw a glimmer of reproach in her eyes.

For some reason her controlled restraint bothered him. He realised he actually wanted her to rage at him, so he could rage back at her. To get all the pain and anger out in the open, instead of all this polite pussyfooting around they were doing.

Instead, he took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. His parents’ meddling was no fault of hers. Or his.

But as he stared out of the window the memory of having to stand in full view of his family and look lovingly into Emma’s eyes came back to haunt him, crushing the air from his lungs. He could have sworn he’d seen something in her gaze, something that made his heart beat faster and his blood soar through his veins.

It had made him nervous.

He still felt twitchy and wound up from it now and a sudden urge to get out of the confines of the car and walk around for a minute to get rid of his restless energy overwhelmed him.

‘We should stop and get a drink somewhere before we head back to London,’ he muttered, and before Emma could protest he leant forwards and asked John to stop at the country pub that was coming up on their left.

Once they’d pulled into the car park he said, ‘Let’s take a quick break here,’ getting out before she had chance to answer him.

The temperature was cool, but the sun was out and Jack felt it warm the skin of his face as they walked towards the pub. It was a relief to be outside again. Despite the impressive dimensions of the rooms in his parents’ house he’d felt claustrophobic there and had been hugely relieved to leave its austere atmosphere.

The exterior of the pub had already been decorated for Christmas and strings of fairy lights winked merrily at them as they walked up to the front of the building.

‘Let’s sit out in the beer garden,’ he suggested as they came to a halt at the front door. He could already imagine how the dark cosy interior would press in on him. He needed air right now.

‘Sure, okay,’ Emma said, slanting him a quizzical glance.

‘I just need to be outside for a while.’

She nodded. ‘Okay, I understand. I’ll go and get the drinks. What would you like?’

He frowned. ‘No, I’ll get them.’

Putting up a hand, she fixed him with a determined stare. ‘Jack, I can stretch to buying us a couple of drinks. Let me get them.’

Knowing how stubborn she could be when she put her mind to it, he conceded defeat. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll have an orange and soda,’ he said, aware he needed to keep his wits about him, despite an almost overwhelming craving for a large shot of whisky to calm his frazzled nerves.

‘Okay, you go and find us a good table in the sun. I’ll see you out there,’ she said, already heading into the pub.

He found a bench right by a small brook in the garden and sat down to wait for her to return, watching the fairy lights twinkling in the distance. Barely a minute later he spotted her striding over the grass to join him, a drink in each hand. It looked as though she’d gone for the soft option as well.

He was surprised. He’d expected her to come back with something much stronger after having to deal with the nonsense his parents had subjected her to.

A sudden and savage anger rose from somewhere deep inside him—at his parents, at her, at the world for the twisted carnage it had thrown at them both.

She put the drinks carefully down on the table like the good little server she’d become.

It burned him that she hadn’t done anything worthwhile with her life when there had been so much potential for her to do great things with it.

Instead she’d given up her life with him in the States for what? To become a waitress. At this last thought his temper finally snapped.

‘Why the hell are you wasting your time working in the service industry? I thought your plan was to go to university to study art and design,’ he said roughly, no longer able to hold back from asking the question that had been burning a hole in his brain since he’d first seen her again.

Her initial shock at his abrasive tone quickly flipped to indignation.

‘Because I’ve had to work to pay off my father’s debts, Jack,’ she blurted, sitting down heavily opposite him, clearly regretting her loss of control as soon as the words were out.

He stared at her in shock. ‘What?’

She swallowed visibly but didn’t break eye contact. ‘They were rather more substantial than I told you they were, but I was finally on track to pay off the last of them—until I lost my job yesterday.’

Guilt-fuelled horror hit him hard in the chest. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You said the money from the sale of your family house had taken care of the debts your father left.’

Frustration burned through him. If she’d told him she needed money he would have offered to help. Not that she would have taken it from him at that point, he was sure. After her father’s death she’d sunk into herself, pushing everyone she’d loved away from her. Including him.

‘It wasn’t just the banks he owed money to,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He’d taken loans from friends and relatives too, who all came out of the woodwork to call the debts in as soon as they’d heard he’d passed away.’

Jack frowned and shook his head in frustration. ‘Emma, your father’s debts weren’t yours to reconcile all by yourself.’

She shrugged and took a sip of her drink before responding. ‘I didn’t want to be known for ever as the poor little rich girl whose daddy had to borrow money from his friends in order to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’d become accustomed, who then ran to her rich husband to sort out her problems.’

The pain in her eyes made his stomach burn. He went to put a reassuring hand on her arm but stopped himself. He couldn’t touch her again. It might undo something in him that he was hanging onto by a mere thread.

‘I didn’t want you to have to deal with being hounded by the press too,’ she added in a small voice. ‘You had enough on your plate what with starting at your new job.’

He thought again about how he’d avoided seeking out any news from the UK after moving to the States. The cruel irony of it was, if he hadn’t done that he’d have been more aware of how her father’s name had been dragged through the press and what she’d been put through after he’d left. And ultimately that would have helped him understand why she’d shut him out of her life once he’d moved away.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Jack, but I was overwhelmed by it all at the time. I guess I was too young and naïve to deal with it properly. It felt easier just to shut you out of it,’ she said suddenly, shocking him out of his torment.

He felt a sting of conscience as he remembered his angry rant at her the other night.

‘I know I promised I’d put us first once things had settled down but sorting out the carnage that my father had left us to deal with took up my every waking second, my every ounce of energy. I felt adrift and panicky most of the time, lost and alone, and I couldn’t see past it. There didn’t ever seem to be an end in sight.’

She took another sip of her drink but her hand was shaking so much some of the liquid sloshed over the edge of the glass and onto the table.

‘Every day after you’d gone I told myself that I’d call you tomorrow, that once things had settled down I’d get on a plane and go and find you, but they never did.’

She mopped absently at the spillage with a tissue that she’d pulled out of her bag.

‘Months bled into each other until suddenly a whole year had passed and by that time it felt too late. I’m sorry I let things drag on the way I did, but I didn’t want to have to face the reality that there couldn’t be any us any more. That my life with you was over. You were everything I’d ever wanted but I had to let you go. I didn’t feel I had any choice.’

She rubbed a hand across her forehead and blew out a calming sigh. ‘The other problem was that my mother wasn’t well after my father died. She became very depressed and couldn’t get out of bed for a long time. I needed to be there for her twenty-four hours a day. To check she wasn’t going to do anything—’ She paused, clearly reliving the terror that she might come back home to find herself an orphan if she left her mother alone for too long.

Jack nodded and closed his eyes, trying to make it clear he understood what she was telling him without her needing to spell it out.

Dragging in a breath, she gave him a sad smile. ‘So it was left to me to organise the funeral, arrange the quick sale of the home I’d lived in since I was a little girl and face the angry creditors on my own while my mother lay in bed staring at the wall.’

‘I could have helped you, Emma, if you’d let me,’ he broke in, feeling angry frustration flare in his chest.

‘I didn’t want you involved, Jack. I was hollowed out, a ghost of my former self, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. You would have hated it. I wanted to be sparkling and bright for you but my father’s death drained it all away.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, it was my family’s mess, not yours.’

He leaned in towards her. ‘I was your family too, Emma. Not by blood, but in every other way. But you pushed me away.’

She took a shaky-sounding breath. ‘I know my decision to stay in England hurt you terribly at the time, but my mother needed me more than you did. She would have had no one left if I’d slunk off to America and there was no way I could just leave her. There was no one else to look after her. All her friends—and I use the word in the loosest of terms—abandoned her so they didn’t find themselves tainted by our scandal.’

Her voice was wobbling now with the effort not to cry. ‘I know that my father would have expected me to look after my mother. He would have expected us to stick together. I didn’t want to dishonour his memory by running away from our family as if I was ashamed to be a part of it.’

She held up a hand, palm facing him. ‘I accept that he made mistakes, borrowing all that money, but I believe he did it in order to make his family happy. So I’ve spent the last six years working hard to pay off his debts. To finally clear our name—’

Her voice caught on the last word and Jack shifted in his seat, distraught to hear how much she’d suffered in silence, but he didn’t speak, letting her keep the floor, sensing how much she needed to let it all out now.

‘I didn’t want you to be dragged down by the mistakes my father made too. It wouldn’t have been fair on you when you were so excited about taking that amazing job offer in America. I knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and how determined you were to shun the unfair advantage of your family name and do something great with your life on your own merits. It would have been cruel of me to take that chance away from you, Jack.’

‘There would have been other opportunities though, Emma. I was more concerned about the two of us making a new life for ourselves together,’ he broke in, before he could stop himself.

She sighed and rubbed at her brow. ‘I wasn’t the same flighty, naïve girl you’d fallen in love with by then though. My father’s death changed me. The girl you knew died the moment he did. The last thing you needed was an emotionally crippled wife pulling at your attention while you were trying to build a successful future for us. You would have only resented me for it.’ She frowned. ‘And I loved you too much at the time to put you through all that.’

At the time.

Those three words said it all. She had loved him, but apparently she didn’t feel the same way any more.

His chest felt hollow with sadness, the desolation of it spreading out from the centre of him, eating away at his insides.

Her voice had become increasingly shaky as she’d gone on with her speech and she stood up now and brushed a tear away from under her eye.

‘Will you excuse me? I’m just going to visit the bathroom before we get back into the car,’ she said, giving him a wobbly smile.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, grateful for a break from the intense atmosphere so he could mull over everything she’d just told him.

He sat staring into space after she’d walked away, acutely aware of the bizarre normality of the sounds in the garden all around them while he desperately tried to make sense of the heavy weight of emotion pressing in on him.

Emma’s painful confession had pierced him to the core.

He was in awe of her courage and her strength in the face of such a humbling experience, but he still couldn’t shake the painful awareness that she’d chosen her mother over him.

Frustration bit at him. If she’d only let him know what was going on at the time, how bad things had got for her, he could have helped her. But she’d chosen to shut him out and handle it all without him. She hadn’t trusted him or his love for her enough to let him be the husband he’d wanted to be.

Though, to be fair to her, he had to give her credit for showing such strength of character in stepping up and taking on her responsibilities, even though it had meant giving up a life with him—an easy, wrapped-in-cotton-wool existence.

If she’d been a more fragile person she could have asked him to pay off her family’s debts and saddled him with a reputation for having a gold-digging wife, but she hadn’t wanted that for him. Or for herself.

She had more integrity than that.

She returned a minute later and he stood up to meet her, frustration, hurt and sorrow for what they’d lost still warring in his mind.

Just as she reached the table her phone rang and she plucked it out of her bag, giving him an apologetic smile at the interruption and muttering, ‘It’s my mother, I’d better get this,’ before answering the call.

She sounded worried at first, which made his heart thump with concern that there was more bad news to deal with, but then her voice softened into a soothing coo as she listened to a tale of woe that her mother had called to impart to her. From what he could glean from Emma’s responses it sounded as if her mother’s new husband, Philippe, had broken something while skiing off-piste with friends and her mother was going to have to rush back to France to see him. Emma assured her that that was fine and that she’d fly over very soon to see them both.

After cutting the call she confirmed the news, assuring him that it was better if her mother didn’t hear about what was going on with them right now as she was already upset and worried about Philippe.

He wanted to say something to her about how it wasn’t right for her to feel she still had to protect her mother and that it should be the other way around, but he didn’t. Because it wasn’t really any of his business.

For some reason that simple truth filled him with despair.

Sliding her phone back into her bag, she gave him a grateful nod for waiting and started walking back to the car. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, watching her go, and as she reached the edge of the garden he had an overwhelming urge to try and reassure her that everything would be okay.

‘Emma.’

She stopped under a large tree strung with twinkling fairy lights and turned back to face him, her expression one of open interest.

He walked quickly up to where she stood. ‘I wanted to say thank you,’ he said, taking another step towards her, closing more of the gap between them.

‘What for?’ Her brow crinkled in confusion.

‘For being so honest with me just now. It’s obviously still hard for you to talk about.’

She glanced away, then back at him with a small smile of gratitude.

He took another step towards her, standing so close now he could smell the intoxicating, floral scent of her.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.

‘I also wanted to say thank you for what you did today, standing up in front of my parents like that,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm, his breath hitching as he felt her tremble under his touch. ‘It was brave of you.’

Glancing up, he realised there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging from a branch above them, tied in amongst the glimmering lights.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he lifted his hand and slid his fingers along her jaw, cupping her face and rubbing his thumb across the flawless skin of her cheek.

Her eyes flickered closed for a second and she drew in a small, sharp breath as if his touch had burnt her.

‘Emma?’ he murmured, dropping his gaze to her beautiful, Cupid’s-bow-shaped mouth. A mouth that he had a sudden mad urge to kiss.

His insides felt tangled, as if she’d reached inside him and twisted them in her hands.

He wanted to do something to take away the pain and uncertainty he saw in her eyes, but intellectually he knew that kissing her now would only make things more complicated between them.

Clearly she was feeling vulnerable and there was no way he was going to consciously make that worse.

So he dropped his hand to his side and took a step away from her. Then another.

‘We should get back on the road so we miss the rush-hour traffic,’ he said gruffly, concerned at how wild the look in her eyes was and how flushed her cheeks were.

The stress of their situation must be getting to her too.

‘Okay,’ she said roughly, nodding and glancing away towards where John, their driver, stood leaning against the car, his face turned towards the late autumn sunshine.

When she looked back her eyes seemed to have taken on a glazed look.

Perhaps she was just tired.

Giving her a nod and a smile, which he hoped would go some way towards reassuring her that he was with her in this, he gestured for her to lead the way.

He watched her walk back towards the car, stumbling a little on the uneven gravel.

If they were going to get through this without getting hurt again he was going to have to be very strict with himself about how close he let himself get to her again. From this point on he would do everything in his power to make her life easier and make sure that she was as secure and happy as she deserved to be.

But he’d be doing it from a distance.