Читать книгу Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection - Christy McKellen - Страница 18
ОглавлениеEMMA SMILED IN stunned wonder at the woman who greeted them warmly by name and invited them to board one of the luxurious glass-domed pods that gradually travelled upwards to give the rider an unsurpassed view of the London skyline.
Tightening his grip on her arm, as if sensing she needed a little persuading to believe this was actually real, Jack guided her along the carpet and into the dimly lit interior of the pod, where the doors immediately swished closed behind them.
It hit her then exactly what this meant.
Jack had remembered how she’d once talked about wanting to commandeer the whole wheel for her own personal ride one day, so she could look down on the sprawling metropolis at midnight—how it was on her whimsical bucket list to gaze down at the city that had always held such excitement for her in her youth and feel like a goddess of all she surveyed.
He’d remembered that and gone out of his way to make it happen for her.
Her heart did a somersault in her chest at the thought.
In fact the only thing missing from her fantasy was—
‘Champagne!’
Swivelling to face him, she was totally unable to keep the astonished grin off her face. ‘You arranged for a bottle of champagne on ice for us to drink up there?’
‘I did.’ The look of deep gratification in his eyes at her excited response sent shivers down her spine.
Deftly popping the cork out of the bottle, he filled two flutes and handed one to her.
She took it with a trembling hand, first clinking it against his then taking a long sip in the hope the alcohol would help calm her raging pulse.
‘Cheers,’ he murmured, taking a sip from his own glass but keeping his gaze fixed firmly on hers.
Unable to maintain eye contact for fear of giving away her nervous excitement at what he’d done for her and what it could mean, she moved away from him, taking a long, low breath in an attempt to pull herself together. She shouldn’t read too much into this. After all, he’d made sure to tell her it was a reward for helping him out, nothing more.
Walking further into the pod and taking another large gulp of fizz, she noticed that the large wooden bench in the middle had been covered in soft red velvet cushions for them to sit on.
‘You know, for the want of a camping stove and some basic provisions I could probably live in here for the rest of my life,’ she joked nervously, walking over to look out of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as the pod continued its breathtaking ascent.
The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as she felt him come to stand behind her, so close that she could feel his warm breath tickling the skin of her cheek.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, and she wasn’t sure whether he was talking about her or the view.
She was trembling all over now, unable to keep her nerves at being here alone with him from visibly showing. It terrified her how much she craved to feel his arms around her, holding her tightly as they enjoyed this experience together.
Taking another big gulp of champagne, she was surprised to find she’d finished the glassful.
‘Here, let me refill that for you,’ Jack said, taking the flute gently out of her fingers.
She stared sightlessly out at the view, her senses entirely diverted by the man moving purposefully around behind her.
He returned a moment later and she took the refilled glass gratefully from him, recognising a desperate need to maintain the bolstering buzz of courage that the alcohol gave her as it warmed her chest.
‘Em? Are you okay?’ she heard him murmur behind her, the power of his presence overwhelming her senses and making her head spin.
‘I’m fine, Jack.’
He put a hand on her arm, urging her to turn and face him.
Swivelling reluctantly on the spot, she looked up into his captivating eyes.
‘You were amazing tonight, you know,’ he said, pushing a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, sending a rush of goose bumps across her skin where he touched her. ‘You conducted yourself with such integrity, a quality a lot of the people there tonight would never be able to claim for themselves.’
‘Thank you.’ Her words came out sounding stilted and coarse due to a sudden constriction in her chest. ‘Well, I’m glad I didn’t let you down as your—’ she swallowed ‘—wife.’
He snorted gently and glanced down, frowning. ‘You’ve never let me down, Em.’ When he looked back at her his eyes were full of regret. ‘It was me that expected too much from you too fast after your father died, then gave up on you too quickly. I’ve been selfish and short-sighted.’
She blinked, shocked by his sudden confession and not sure how to respond to it.
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. Moving to stand next to her now at the floor-to-ceiling window, he rested his forehead against the glass and stared out across the vast, night-lit city. They were a good way up in the air now, much higher than any of the buildings that surrounded them.
Together, but alone, at the top of the world.
‘I hate myself for the way I treated you back then. I don’t know what made me think it was okay to expect you to jump, just because I asked you to. I was an arrogant, naïve fool who had no idea how a marriage really worked.’
Pushing away from the window, he turned to face her again, his expression fierce.
‘I miss what we had, Emma.’
He took a small step towards her and her heart rate accelerated.
‘I remember everything from our time together as if it was yesterday,’ he murmured, his gaze sweeping her face. ‘How beautiful you look when you wake up all tousled in the mornings, the way your laugh never fails to send a shiver down my spine, how kind and non-judgemental you are towards every single person you meet.’ His gaze rested on her mouth, which tingled in response to his avid attention.
‘You’re a good person through and through, Emma Westwood.’
Adrenaline was making her heart leap about in her chest now and the pod, which had felt so spacious for two people only minutes ago, suddenly felt too small.
His dark gaze moved up to fix on hers. ‘I’ve been punishing you for rejecting me—’ he took a ragged breath ‘—because you broke my heart, Em.’ His voice cracked on the words and on instinct she reached out to lay a hand against his chest, over his heart, as if she could somehow undo the damage she’d done to it.
He glanced down at where her hand lay before looking up to recapture her gaze with his. ‘The way I responded was totally unfair. I know that now. And I’m sorry. Truly sorry, Emma.’
Her breath caught in her throat as she saw tears well in his eyes.
He was hurting as badly as she was.
This revelation finally broke through her restraint and an overwhelming urge to soothe him compelled her to close the gap between them. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her lips to his and immediately felt him respond by pulling her hard against his body and kissing her back with an intensity that took her breath away.
Opening her mouth to drag in a gasp of pleasure, she felt his tongue slide between her parted lips and skim against her own, bringing with it the heady familiar taste of him. She’d missed kissing him, so profoundly it made her physically ache with relief to finally be able to revel in its glorious return.
They moved against each other in an exquisitely sensual dance, their hands pushing under clothing, sliding over skin, reading each other’s bodies with their fingertips.
Stumbling together, they moved to the centre of the pod and Jack carefully laid her down on the soft velvet cushions, not letting her go for a second, and she let him take control, forcing herself not to ruin this by questioning the wisdom of what they were doing—because she needed this right now, needed to blot out all the complications and responsibilities in her life and just sink into the safe familiarity of his strength.
To feel desired and happy and free again.
The sex was fast and desperate, as if they couldn’t stop themselves even if they’d wanted to. Their hands and mouths were everywhere, their touch wild and unrestrained.
Alone, but together, at the top of the world.
* * *
Afterwards, after they’d come back down to earth and stumbled out of the pod, rumpled and high on champagne and emotion, they returned home and made love again, this time taking the opportunity to explore each other’s bodies properly, relearning what they used to know and finding comfort and joy in the fact that being together again was as wonderful as they remembered—maybe even more so—until they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, both mentally and physically replete after their long-awaited wedding night.
* * *
Jack woke the next morning with a deep sense of satisfaction warming his body.
Memories of having Emma in his arms last night swam across his vision and he allowed himself to exult in them for a while before opening his eyes.
He hadn’t intended to make love to her last night, the trip on the London Eye was meant to be an apology for the awful, cold way he’d been acting towards her, but she’d looked so wary to be there alone with him he’d known if he wanted to gain her trust again he was going to have to be totally honest with her about how he was feeling.
It had been incredibly hard saying those things to her after years of burying his feelings so deeply inside him, but he was intensely relieved that they were finally out in the open.
He knew now with agonising certainty that he’d never felt like this with anyone but her. The women he’d dated in the years they’d been apart had all been pale imitations of her. Mere tracing paper versions. Without substance. None of them had her grace and finesse, or her smart, sharp wit. Or her beauty.
After Emma had left him, he’d shut himself off from romantic emotion, not wanting to deal with the torment he’d been put through, but as soon as she’d reappeared in his life all those feelings had come rushing back. But it had been too painful to bear at first, like emotional pins and needles. So he’d numbed himself against her.
Until it wasn’t possible to any more.
From the way she’d kept herself gently aloof from him since they’d met again he’d been afraid that she wasn’t interested in renewing their connection—that she’d moved on from him—but judging by the passionate fervour of her lovemaking last night, it seemed she did still care about him after all.
Which led him to believe that there might be hope for them yet.
Excitement buzzed through his veins and he turned to look for the woman who had made him an intensely happy man last night, only to be disappointed when he found the space where she’d lain in bed next to him empty and cold.
Frowning, he grabbed his phone, glancing at the screen to see it was already eight-thirty. It wasn’t like him to sleep in late, but after the intensity of the night before he guessed it wasn’t entirely surprising.
At least he’d taken today off work to be available for the Babbler interview, so he and Emma would be able to spend the day in each other’s company—hopefully most of it in bed.
Heart feeling lighter than it had in years, he got up and took a quick shower, then pulled on some fresh clothes.
It was a shame there wasn’t time to lure her back to bed now. That damn interview! It was the very last thing he wanted to do today.
Still, perhaps once Perdita had cleared off he could take Emma out for a slap-up meal to apologise for forcing her to take part in his father’s media circus, then drag her back to the house for a lot more personal attention and a chance for them to talk about their future together.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he went straight to the kitchen to seek out Emma so they could start their life together again as soon as possible.
* * *
Emma had woken up in the dark to find Jack’s arm lying heavily across her chest and his leg hooked over hers, trapping her within the cage of his body.
Her first thought was, What have I done?
She’d let her crazy romantic notions get the better of her, that was what.
She was suddenly terrified that she’d made a terrible mistake.
Heart pounding, she’d wriggled out of his covetous embrace and dashed into the en-suite bathroom, her forehead damp with sweat and her limbs twitchy with adrenaline.
After splashing some water on her face and feeling her heart rate begin to return to normal, she’d crept back out to the bedroom and stood looking at Jack as he slept. He’d looked so peaceful, lying there on his side, with his arm still outstretched as if he were holding onto the ghost of her presence.
Unable to bear the idea of getting back into bed with him when her feelings were in such chaos, she went to her own room to get dressed, then headed downstairs to make herself a soothing cup of tea. She sat with it at the table, staring into space and thinking, thinking, thinking...
Half an hour later, she was still sitting there with a cold cup of tea in front of her, her thoughts a blur of conflicting emotions.
She was so confused, so twisted into knots. In her haze of lust and alcohol last night she’d thought she’d be able to remain in control and keep her feelings safe.
What an idiot she’d been.
It hadn’t taken much for him to break through the barriers she’d so carefully constructed over the last six years to keep her safe from any more emotional upheaval.
Just the thought of it made her go cold with fear.
What had she been thinking, imagining reconciliation with Jack was what she wanted? It was crazy to try and reinstate what they’d once had. Impossible! They couldn’t just pick up where they’d left off and she couldn’t put herself through the torment of wondering when it was all going to be ripped away from her again.
Because it would be.
She didn’t get to keep the people she loved.
Anyway, he was still probably clinging on to a vision of her from when she was eighteen, all bright-eyed and full of naïve optimism. The Emma she’d been then was the perfect match for someone of his standing—a billionaire businessman and earl of the realm—but the Emma she was now was all wrong to be the wife of someone like that. Especially as his family put such store in appearances. They’d humoured the match up till now, but surely it would cause all sorts of friction for Jack in the future. It could tear his family apart, and, after having her own torn asunder, that was the last thing she’d wish on him.
He’d only end up hating her for it.
After already suffering through the turmoil of losing him once; she couldn’t bear the thought of going through it again. It would break her in two.
She jumped in surprise as Jack came striding into the kitchen looking all rumpled and sexy, with a wide smile on his face.
Her stomach did an almighty flip at the sight of him, but she dug her fingernails into the table top, reminding herself of all the reasons why it would be a bad idea to take things any further with him.
Striding over to where she sat, he bent down to kiss her and she steeled herself, flinching a little as his mouth made contact with hers.
As he pulled away she could tell from the look of wounded surprise in his eyes that he’d noticed her withdrawal.
‘Emma? What’s wrong?’ he asked, his tone confirming his apprehension.
But before she could answer there was a long ring on the doorbell.
‘That’ll be Perdita,’ Jack said, annoyance tingeing his voice. ‘She’s early.’
* * *
Jack paced the floor of the living room with a feeling of dread lying heavily in his gut while Emma went to let Perdita and the photographer in.
He didn’t understand why she was suddenly acting so coldly towards him after what they’d shared last night. The way she’d flinched away from his kiss had completely rattled him.
A moment later she reappeared with Perdita hot on her heels, the journalist bringing with her a cloud of the same cloying perfume she’d worn the last time they’d seen her.
Jack’s stomach rolled as it twisted up his nose.
‘Jack, darling! How lovely to see you again!’ Perdita shot him a quick smile before striding around the room, glancing around at the décor that Emma had so painstakingly instated.
‘What a wonderful room! The lighting is perfect for taking some photos of the two of you in here. What do you think, David?’
David, the photographer, nodded his agreement, then carelessly dumped his camera bag and laptop onto the polished cherry-wood coffee table.
Jack saw Emma wince in his peripheral vision, but she didn’t utter a word of reproach. Perhaps she thought she had no right to because this wasn’t her house. The thought frustrated him, making his limbs twitchy and his head throb.
‘It’s good for me,’ David said, nodding at a light metre he was now holding up. ‘I’ll get set up while you do the interview, Perdie.’
‘Okey-dokey,’ Perdita trilled, turning to Jack with a simpering smile, then looking towards where Emma still stood in the doorway. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’
They all sat down, he and Emma on the sofa next to each other and Perdita in the armchair opposite.
As Jack sat back his leg pressed up against Emma’s and he bristled as she shifted away from his touch. Perdita was never going to believe they were a happily married couple if it looked as if she couldn’t even stand to sit next to him.
What was going on? Had he done or said something last night that had upset her? If he had, he had no idea what it could have been.
He took a breath and slung his arm around her shoulders. She tensed a little under his touch, but at least she didn’t move away this time.
Looking over at Perdita, he steeled himself for spending the next half an hour—that was all he was going to give her—fielding her impertinent questions about his and Emma’s life together, while also trying to make their relationship sound real and exciting enough to titillate the readers of Babbler magazine.
‘So, how are the plans for the renewal of your wedding vows going?’ Perdita purred, after she’d set up her phone to record their conversation.
‘Er...well, we’re still talking about when and how we’re going to do it—’ Emma said quickly, her smile looking fixed and her eyes overly bright when he glanced round at her.
‘Uh-huh,’ Perdita intoned, looking between the two of them with a quizzical little pinch in her forehead.
‘We’re hoping it’ll be some time in the new year. We’ll let you know when we’ve made some firm plans,’ Jack said brusquely, in an attempt to close that line of questioning down as quickly as possible. Emma shuffled in her seat beside him.
Luckily Perdita didn’t press them on it.
‘So are you planning on spending Christmas here? I see you already have your decorations up,’ Perdita said brightly, sweeping her hands around to gesture at the strings of silver baubles that Emma had hung from the picture rails and the spicy scented Douglas fir she’d covered with tasteful vintage Victorian ornaments.
‘Yes, I think we’ll be here for Christmas this year,’ Jack replied, glancing around him at the decorations. They lent the room such a cosy festive air, so much so he found he was actually enjoying sitting in his living room for once, despite having to answer Perdita’s inane questions.
‘It must be so lovely to have a family home again to spend Christmas Day in, Emma. I understand you had to sell the house you grew up in after your poor father passed on,’ Perdita cooed, raising her brow in a shocking show of pseudo sympathy.
‘That’s right, Perdita, we did,’ Emma answered, keeping her chin up and her gaze locked with the woman’s though Jack was aware of her shoulders tensing ever so slightly. ‘And yes, it’ll be a lovely house to spend Christmas in.’
He was desperate to call a halt to this ridiculous debacle, but he didn’t want to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing him riled.
‘You know, Perdita, Emma did all the interior design in the house,’ he said, leaning in to draw the journalist’s unscrupulous attention away from his wife.
Perdita glanced around at him, quickly hiding a flash of irritation that he’d foiled her underhand pursuit of some juicy gossip with which to titillate her readers. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes. She has a real talent for it, my wife. I’m incredibly proud of her. In fact, why don’t you mention to your readers that she’s available for consultation if they’re looking for an interior designer? I can give them a personal guarantee that they’ll be delighted with Emma’s talent for making a house into a home.’
He picked up Emma’s hand from her lap, giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a second’s pause she gave him a squeeze back.
There was definitely something very wrong here. Was she feeling ill? Too tired from their night of passion to think straight? Just sick to death of being hounded for answers to questions that brought up painful memories from her past?
Perdita continued to fire tricky questions at them: about how they fell in love, how they came to be reconciled, what their plans were for their future together and even though Emma fielded the questions well with vague but upbeat answers he imagined he could feel her slipping further and further away from him with every second that passed.
By the time the interview finally concluded he was desperate to get Perdita out of the house so that he and Emma could talk again in private.
But unfortunately the journalist had other ideas.
‘Well, I’ve got everything I need for the article. We just need to get some lovely snaps of the two of you together in this beautiful living room. You’ve done such a wonderful job on the décor, Emma. It’ll make a lovely backdrop.’
She stood up from the armchair that she’d been perched on and Jack and Emma stood up awkwardly too.
Judging by the look on Emma’s face, Jack was pretty sure she was as desperate for this to be over as he was.
‘Are you ready for us, David?’ Perdita called out to her photographer.
‘As I’ll ever be, Perdie,’ David replied, shooting them all a wink.
They allowed Perdita to manhandle them into a ‘loving’ clinch on the sofa by the window, and Jack’s spirits sank even lower as he felt Emma tense as he wrapped his arms around her.
‘Okay, let’s have a lovely kiss now, shall we?’ Perdita purred, giving them a lascivious smile.
To his horror, he realised Emma was actually vibrating with tension now and when he turned his head to look at her, his gut twisted as he saw only a cool remoteness in her eyes.
Leaning forwards, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping he could somehow wake the Emma from last night, to remind her how good it had been between them, and how good it could be again, if only she’d let him back in.
Her mouth was cool and pliant beneath his, but he could feel the reluctance in her, taste it on her lips, sense it in the raggedness of her breathing—as if she was only tolerating his touch until she could get away from him without looking bad in front of Perdita.
The rejection tugged hard at him, causing pain in his chest as if she’d torn something loose inside him.
‘Wonderful!’ Perdita said, as they drew apart.
‘Is that it?’ Jack asked gruffly, at the very end of his patience with the woman now. He wanted her and her nauseating presence out of his house so he could be on his own with Emma again and finally be able to find out what was going on with her.
‘We’re done,’ Perdita said, all businesslike now as David gathered up his equipment behind her.
‘I’ll let your mother know when to expect to see the article,’ she said.
As soon as he shut the door on Perdita’s designer-suited back, Jack returned to the living room to find Emma perched on the arm of the sofa, staring out of the window.
‘Thank you for doing that,’ he said, walking towards her. ‘I’m sorry to put you through it.’
She shrugged, but didn’t look at him.
‘I guess it’ll satisfy your parents. At least for a while.’ She took a deep shaky-sounding breath. ‘I’m going to go now, Jack,’ she said quietly, still not turning around.
His heart turned over at her words. ‘What are you talking about?’
She turned to face him, her expression shuttered. ‘I need to get out of here.’
* * *
Emma took a deep breath, trying not to let Jack’s incredulous glare stop her from saying what needed to be said.
‘I don’t need to stay here now the journalists have stopped prowling around the house and Perdita’s got her pound of flesh from us,’ she said, keeping her voice steady and emotionless, even though it nearly killed her to do it.
Jack stared at her in shock. ‘But you don’t need to go, Em. You should stay. I want you to.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t stay here now, Jack, not now we’ve crossed an irreversible line by sleeping together, something we agreed not to do.’
Couldn’t he see that they shouldn’t risk putting themselves in a position where it might happen again, that it would only make things harder and more complicated later when they started the inevitable divorce proceedings?
‘I thought it’s what you wanted too,’ he ground out, his troubled gaze boring into hers. ‘It certainly seemed like it last night.’
She folded her arms across her chest, hugging them around her. ‘You didn’t really think that one night together would fix what’s wrong with our relationship, did you?’
His steady gaze continued to bore into hers, his eyes dark with intent. Sitting down opposite her, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned forwards, his eyes not leaving hers. ‘Emma, I want us to try and make this marriage work.’
Her mouth was suddenly so dry she found it hard to swallow and she was aware of a low level of panic beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach.
‘We’ve been apart for too long, Jack. How can we expect to make a relationship work now?’ Her voice shook with the effort of keeping her emotions at bay.
‘But it does work, Emma, we proved that last night.’
‘You didn’t really think we could just pick up from where we left off, did you?’
He blinked at her in surprise, then opened his mouth as if to answer.
But she couldn’t let him try and persuade her otherwise; this was hard enough as it was. She really couldn’t bring herself to trust that it could all be okay with them this time. What guarantees did they have that it wouldn’t all fall apart again?
‘We shouldn’t have let last night happen. Sex always messes things up,’ she said, her voice wobbling with tension.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Are you telling me you regret what happened now?’ A muscle was twitching in his jaw and his brow pinched into a disbelieving frown.
She was hurting him; she could see it in his eyes and it was tearing her apart.
‘I—can’t do this again, Jack.’ But her voice held no conviction. She could see that he thought so too by the way he was looking at her.
As if he knew how very close she was to giving in.
He was still looking at her that way as he got up and walked towards her. Still looking as he pushed his hand gently into her hair and tilted her face towards him. Still looking as he brushed his lips against hers with a feather-light kiss that made her insides melt and fizz.
‘Don’t, Jack...’ she murmured against his mouth, her willpower a frail and insubstantial thing that she was having trouble holding onto.
To her surprise he drew back, giving her the space she needed.
Finally acting as though he was listening to her.
Sliding his hand out of her hair, he took a deliberate step backwards, but didn’t stop looking at her.
She felt the loss of his touch so keenly her body gave a throb of anguish.
‘I want us to have another try at our marriage.’ He took a breath. ‘I need you.’
The passion and the absolute certainty she heard in his voice sent her heart into a slow dive, but she fought the feeling, still too afraid to believe what he was saying was true. ‘You don’t need me, Jack.’
‘Yes, I do! There’s this big hole in my life without you that I’ve never been able to fill. It’s like part of me is hollow. A wound that just won’t heal.’
‘You’re comparing me to a wound now? How romantic.’ But despite her jibe she was aware of a warm glow of longing pulsing deep in her chest now.
She pushed it away, telling herself not to be a fool. It was dangerous to hope for this to work out after last time. Too much time and pain and heartache had come between them since those happier days. He was being naïve to think they could get back what they once had.
He locked his gaze with hers, his expression sincere. ‘I’m going to be here for you this time, Em, every step of the way. I’ll look after you, I promise.’
‘Promises aren’t enough, Jack.’
He ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking tired. ‘Then what do you want from me? Tell me, Emma!’
‘A divorce! Like we’d planned!’ she shouted back in frustration.
He stared at her in shock. ‘You want to get a divorce after what happened between us last night?’
‘It was just sex, Jack. We were both a little tipsy and feeling lonely. It was inevitable, I suppose, after all the time we’ve been spending together. But it didn’t mean anything to me.’ She swallowed hard, forcing back a lash of anguish as he stared at her with pain in his eyes.
‘Don’t tell me last night didn’t mean anything to you because I won’t believe you, Emma. You’re not that good an actress,’ he shot at her.
She recoiled at the fury in his voice, resentment suddenly rising from the pit of her belly at the unfairness of it all. ‘You want to bet?’ she retorted in anger. ‘I’ve had years to perfect my mask. Years of smiling and looking serene in the face of some very taxing situations.’
‘Is that what our marriage is to you? A taxing situation?’
‘It hasn’t been a marriage for years, Jack, just an inconvenience,’ she shouted in utter frustration, feeling a jab of shame at how cruel that sounded.
Unable to bear the look of hurt on his face any longer, she strode away from him, banging her shin hard on the coffee table in her haste. But she didn’t stop to soothe the pain away. She had to get out of there. Away from his befuddling presence. He was making her crazy—bringing back all these feelings she didn’t want to have again.
‘Where are you going?’ he said, trying to block her path with his body, but she pushed past him, dodging away from his outstretched hand.
‘Emma, can we please talk some more about this?’
‘It’s not what I want, Jack. I’ve already explained that. There’s no point trying to hold onto the past. We can never get back what we once had. Everything’s different now.’
‘It doesn’t have to be, Em. Fundamentally we’re still the same people. We can make this marriage work.’
Shaking her head, she backed away from him. ‘No, I’m sorry, Jack.’ She took a deep shaky breath and dug her nails into her palms. ‘I don’t want to be married to you any more.’
* * *
Jack felt as though his heart were being crushed in his chest.
‘Don’t leave, Emma. Please. Stay and we’ll talk some more about it.’ He put a hand on her arm, aware that he was vibrating with fear now. ‘Please.’
Shaking her head, she pulled away from his touch and stumbled backwards. ‘I can’t, Jack.’
Her gaze met his and all he saw there was a wild determination to get away from him.
Chest tight with sorrow, he tried one last time to get through to her. ‘Emma, I love you, please don’t leave me again.’
Putting up a hand as if to block his words, she took another step away, reinforcing the barrier between them, rebuffing his pleas.
‘I have to go,’ she said, her voice rough and broken. ‘I can’t be here any more. Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to.’
And with that, she turned on her heel and strode away from him.
Frozen with frustration, he remained standing where she’d left him, listening to her mount the stairs and a minute later come back down, hoping—praying—that she’d pause on her way out, to stop and look at him one last time. If she did that, he’d go to her. Hold and comfort her. Tell her she could trust him and he’d make everything okay.
If she did that, he’d know there was still a chance for them.
But she didn’t.
Instead he saw a flash of colour as she walked quickly past the doorway to the living room, and a few seconds later he heard the front door open, then close with the resounding sound of her leaving.
Silence echoed around the room, taunting him, widening the hollow cavity that she’d punched into his chest with her words.
Picking up a vase that Emma had bought as part of the house redecoration project, he hurled it against the wall with all his strength, drawing a crude satisfaction from seeing it smash into tiny little pieces and litter the floor.
He knew then that this was why he hadn’t been back to see her in the six years since he moved to America. His heart had been so eviscerated the first time he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging it again.
But the moment he’d seen her again at Fitzherbert’s party he’d known in the deepest darkest recesses of his brain that he had to have her back. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and making himself vulnerable again for her would be worth the risk.
But it had all been for nothing.
Six years after she’d first broken his heart she’d done it to him all over again.
