Читать книгу A Valentine Kiss: A Marriage Worth Saving / Tempted by Her Tycoon Boss / The Unforgettable Spanish Tycoon - Christy McKellen, Jennie Adams - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE NEEDED TO THINK.

She couldn’t turn to the usual activities that helped her to do so since they all involved staying in the house with Jordan, so Mila decided to go to the place that always did.

She grabbed her jacket and walked out into the sunshine that was growing rarer the closer it got to winter. Though the cold air reminded her of the season, it brought a beauty to the vineyard that was underappreciated. Especially from here, she thought, standing atop the slope that overlooked the vineyard, just as she had the previous day with Jordan.

It felt as if it were a lot longer than that. So much had happened since then. She’d done a lot for the event, yes, but she had also learned a lot about herself. About how much she wanted to look worthy, and how she had sacrificed her relationships in pursuit of that. About how much what people thought about her affected her behaviour—and how she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge that to herself, or to the people who cared about her.

Perhaps it was because there hadn’t been many people who cared about her when she was growing up. She’d had ten different foster families over her years of being in foster care, and she couldn’t remember even one of them fostering because they actually cared about the children they were looking after.

It meant that she desperately wanted to feel loved, to feel needed. But it also meant that she didn’t know how to turn to people when she needed them. Her conversation with Lulu had shown her that those were opposing desires, since the people she wanted to feel loved and needed by needed to feel that, too. And, since she struggled to do that, she only succeeded in pushing them away. It was a vicious cycle, and if she was being honest with herself, it was another reason the loss of her baby had broken her.

When she’d fallen pregnant so quickly, so unexpectedly, she had let herself hope for a family. She was going to have a child—someone who would need her without conditions. Someone who would know that she needed them, too, without her having to say it. That was what family was, wasn’t it?

But she had also been scared that she wouldn’t be a good mother. And of the way having a baby would change her life. In some ways it had been a remnant of her fears about marriage. Her pregnancy seemed to have sharpened them, causing her to worry that they’d moved too fast.

So she had clung to her job, working just as hard as she had before she’d fallen pregnant to prove to herself that things wouldn’t change that much. She’d ignored Jordan’s suggestion that she move more slowly, that she take time to adjust to the changes her body and their lives were going through.

And then she’d fallen down the stairs and her baby had been born prematurely, only surviving for seventeen minutes in the world Mila was supposed to have prepared him for. Her mourning had been part grief at her loss, part guilt at the fact that she hadn’t slowed down. That she’d put her selfish fears first.

And in her grief she’d realised how unimportant those fears had been. Having a family—having her son—had always been the most important. She’d pushed Jordan, Greg and Lulu away because that realisation had come too late, and she hadn’t wanted to be reminded of how stupid she’d been.

So she’d locked her hopes for a family away, convincing herself that she could survive without one. And she would cling to that belief so no one would get hurt again because of her. It didn’t matter what Lulu said about second chances and Mila wanting more. Wanting more didn’t matter. Not any more.

Besides, she and Jordan just weren’t right for each other. She absently rubbed at the ache that throbbed in her chest at the thought as she remembered their interaction earlier. She’d had no idea he was as affected as she was by their baby’s death, and she felt awful about it. She could still see the way the colour had leached from his face when he’d realised Lulu was pregnant, could still remember how erratic his breathing had been.

It always gave her an objective glimpse into what other people felt when she went through her own episodes, and it wasn’t good. And, though she still felt guilt about it, knowing that he struggled, too, made her feel a little better about how she was coping. It made her feel, for the first time since her life had imploded in front of her, as if she wasn’t alone.

But that didn’t mean anything other than shared experience, she thought firmly. She and Jordan hadn’t even shared the way they’d really felt about having a baby. And then she had told him about why she hadn’t, about why she was scared, and he had still refused to share his feelings with her. It reminded her of how little she actually knew about him...

No, she concluded. They weren’t right for each other. And no matter what her heart said she couldn’t be with someone who didn’t want to let her in.

‘Going down?’ a voice asked behind her, and she turned, her heart in her throat until she realised that it was Frank, not Jordan behind her.

‘No.’ She smiled at him and checked her watch. ‘I have under thirty minutes before I need to leave to do some work on the event. There’s no time for me to get lost in the fields today.’

Frank nodded and just stood behind her, and his steady presence gave her a feeling of calm.

‘Something’s wrong,’ Frank said, still staring out to the fields.

She bit her lip when Frank’s lack of eye contact reminded her of how uncomfortable he was talking about anything personal, and answered him. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary.’

Not if you counted a will forcing you to reunite with a not-so-ex-husband as ordinary.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’ She turned to him now, and saw the concern on his face. ‘I’m not going to break down because Jordan is back, Frank.’

Frank sank his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. He hated interfering, she thought, and her heart warmed even as she wondered why he thought he needed to.

‘I know you’re a strong, independent woman...’

This time Mila didn’t try to hide her smile.

‘But that doesn’t mean that your ex being back shouldn’t bother you in some way.’

Her smile faded and she shrugged. ‘I’m not saying it doesn’t bother me. But I can handle it.’

‘He hurt you pretty bad the last time.’

‘Yeah, he did. But I hurt him, too,’ she answered without thinking, and lifted a hand to her mouth when she realised it was true. She had hurt him when she’d asked him to give her space. The thought left a feeling of discomfort in her stomach.

‘I can talk to him if you like.’

She smiled. ‘You would hate that.’

Frank returned her smile. ‘I would. But I’d do it.’

‘I know you would. For Greg, right?’ She said it because she knew it must be true. Especially since Greg had asked her to look after the others at the vineyard in the same way.

‘Yeah. But for you, too.’

She brushed a kiss on Frank’s cheek because she knew he cared for her, and laughed when the action made him blush.

‘I’m okay, Frank. I promise.’

She left after that, the brief interaction leaving her steadier. Perhaps it was because she believed what she’d told Frank. She could handle Jordan.

Yes, his being back brought back emotions, memories that she wished she could forget. And it stirred up the anger, the accusations she’d wanted to hurl at him the moment she’d got the divorce papers that had made her realise he had given up on them. But the more time she spent with him now also made her realise that there were things between them that had never really been right. With her, with him or in their relationship.

But Frank’s presence had reminded her of the promise she’d made to Greg to look after the vineyard. And for the first time she realised the implications of Greg’s will on that promise. If she didn’t put aside her feelings, she wouldn’t be able to plan the event. That would mean that 50 per cent of the vineyard would be auctioned off, which would mean an uncertain future.

If someone horrible became part-owner, it would affect Frank and everyone else on the vineyard that she’d grown to care about. She had to do it for them. She needed to plan this event, make sure that it was a success and then sign her share over to Jordan even if the whole process pained her.

And she would do it for the people she cared about.

* * *

It seemed to Jordan that he wasn’t the only one who had decided to let his feelings take a back seat. Mila had greeted him cordially when she’d seen him waiting for her on one of the chairs on the patio and asked him to drive them to the school. Her tone had been reserved, but not entirely cold, and Jordan had thought that maybe she had decided cordiality was better than letting the emotions of the past interfere again.

He couldn’t agree more, and so an unspoken truce had formed between them. He’d waited for Mila to grab some things from her room, and when she’d returned and walked past him the smell of vanilla had followed her. His body had tightened in response, and he’d wondered how difficult this truce would be.

‘What’s our plan for this?’

‘Well, I have the list of all the vendors we used last time. Most of them will be at this food fair—thank goodness Stellenbosch’s event industry is small—so we can split up and ask them about their availability and interest in our event.’

He ran his tongue over his teeth, keeping his eyes glued to the road. ‘I don’t think we should split up. Didn’t the will stipulate we do this together?’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I don’t think that’s what your father meant.’

‘Maybe not, but it would probably be a good idea for me to tag along with you. I didn’t do any of this the first time, remember?’

He wasn’t sure when it had suddenly become so important for him to stay with her—especially since he was sure he could convince a few vendors to come to an event that they would get great publicity and payment for.

‘Fine, we can stay together.’

She said it as though she was conceding millions instead of just her company. Was there a reason she didn’t want to spend time with him? Maybe it was because she could also feel the slight sizzle that simmered between them whenever they were together.

‘It would probably be best if I introduce you as the new owner of the vineyard. It might give some of them more incentive to say yes.’

‘And what happens after this?’

‘We speak to Karen—she’s supposed to contact me to confirm if she can do it.’

He glanced over at her, saw the pained expression on her face, and smiled. ‘Brings back bad memories, does it?’

She groaned, and it made him feel lighter than he had in a while. ‘I’ve always thought about her with both pride and despair. Her performance that night was fantastic, but I could have done without the drama.’

‘But if she can perform...?’

‘We’ll have to work with her to figure out a date. And then we market.’

They had just pulled up at the school, and were being directed up a road that Jordan remembered led to a sports field. It was ages since he’d been here, he thought idly, and then turned his attention back to Mila when she spoke.

‘Did you know she’s playing a concert? Saturday at Westgate Stadium. It would be an excellent way to show our support. You up for it?’

His eyebrows rose. ‘You want me to go with you?’

‘If I have to suffer through a concert with a load of teenagers, then so do you, buddy.’

He grinned, and found himself relaxing for the first time since he’d arrived back home. ‘Sounds fair to me.’

They got out after he’d parked, and he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings he’d in no way appreciated in his teens. The field he stood on reminded him of the countless rugby matches he’d played there, and though nostalgia was easy to slip into, he found the scene beyond the school to be more compelling.

The hills made it seem almost enclosed by nature, and had been the backdrop to many of his teenage escapades. Large trees were scattered over the grounds, leaves fading from green to orange with the turn of the season. He thought it might only be in Cape Town that even a school was beautiful to look at.

‘This place hasn’t changed since I was here,’ Jordan said as they stood in line to get tickets, and he watched as Mila turned her head to follow his gaze.

‘The swimming pool is new,’ Mila pointed out, and he looked over and saw she was right.

He wasn’t sure how he had missed that, since the school grounds were built at a much lower level than where they were parked.

‘How do you know the pool’s new?’

‘I went to school here, too,’ she said, a light blush covering her cheeks.

He wondered why telling him that would embarrass her. He frowned. ‘Why didn’t we see each other?’

‘You would have been four years ahead of me, so we would have only seen each other if I was there in your last year.’ She glanced over at him. ‘I wasn’t.’

‘So you came after I had already matriculated.’ The timeline had already formed in his head.

‘Yeah, and only stayed for a year.’

‘And then what?’

‘I got moved to another family and another school.’

Her words left him...disconcerted. Perhaps it was because of the reminder of her childhood. Or perhaps it was because she had never spoken about her schooling before. It highlighted another crack in the relationship they’d had before breaking up. Shouldn’t he have known this about her, his wife?

‘Why didn’t I know this?’

She shrugged, though the gesture was made with stiff shoulders, and the relaxation Jordan had felt only a few moments ago slipped away.

‘There were a lot of things we didn’t talk about, Jordan,’ she said.

Exactly what he’d realised over the past few days, he thought. He took out his wallet before Mila could pay when they got to the front of the line, and turned to her as they waited for their tickets.

‘It seems a bit strange that we didn’t talk about it, doesn’t it...?’

He trailed off when he saw that her face had lost its colour. And then he realised why. Because the school was at a lower level, there was a long staircase that led down to another sports field. It was steep, even for him, and he felt her shake even before he saw it.

‘I can’t do this,’ she said, and turned away, her eyes wide and frightened.

Jordan felt the punch to his stomach even as steel lined it. ‘You don’t have a choice,’ he said firmly, and grabbed her hand, leading her to the stairs slowly.

Every step she took—every uncertain, painful step—sliced at his heart, but he knew he had to do this for her. He knew that if he could redeem himself in any way for the decisions he’d made since the day she’d fallen down the stairs, it would be by giving her back her freedom. And he knew her well enough to know that the only way to do that was through tough love.

‘Jordan, please...’ she whispered, her hand white on the railing. She had managed one step down the stairs, but had then frozen.

‘Mila, look at me.’ He waited as she did so, letting those behind him pass as he stood with Mila. ‘You have to do this. The event depends on it. The vineyard depends on it. For my father.’

It was a low blow and he knew it, and he saw the responding flash of red in her eyes. But the look quickly fizzled out as he took her hand again, and was replaced by a combination of fear and...trust? he thought, and felt that punch in his gut again.

He couldn’t ponder why that look had that effect on him now, though, and instead focused on taking another step down, waiting for her to join him. After taking a breath, she did. He saw the temptation in her eyes to freeze again, and decided that distracting her would soften the tough-love approach.

‘Do you think it’s because we did everything so fast that we didn’t talk about our pasts?’ he asked her, and patted himself on the back when he saw confusion in her eyes at his change of topic.

‘That was a part of it.’ Her voice was shaky, but she had taken the next step with his encouragement. ‘But definitely not the biggest part.’

‘What do you mean?’

She rolled her eyes, and he thought vaguely that his attempt at distraction was working. Except that she was distracting him, too.

‘We told each other about the most important parts. You knew that I didn’t have any family, and that I grew up in foster care, and I knew that your mom had passed away from cancer.’

‘And we were just content with that...’ he said, more to himself than to her.

Ever since he had realised that there had been things in their relationship that were broken even before the accident, the more he saw them. Yes, they’d known the basics—like the fact that her father had died before she was born and her mother had died shortly after her birth—but he’d had no idea how that had made her feel. Just as she hadn’t known how his mother’s death had affected him. And how much he blamed himself for it.

‘You were,’ she scoffed, and took another step down, still leaning on him. ‘I wanted to know everything about you. About your father, your mother, your childhood... Everything,’ she repeated. ‘But you didn’t seem willing to offer the information...’

She took a deep breath, but he knew it had little to do with the fact that she was going down the stairs.

‘And I never wanted to push.’

He frowned. ‘You didn’t want to ask me about my life?’

She was silent for a moment. ‘I didn’t want to push you to give me any information you didn’t want to.’

‘Why not?’

She looked at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. ‘Because I didn’t want to tell you things either.’

It was a strange conversation to be having while she was facing her fears, he thought briefly, but in that moment the only thing that had his attention was what she was saying.

‘What didn’t you want to tell me?’

He felt her hand tighten, felt her resistance as she tried to pull away from him, but then she stopped. Maybe because she’d realised that pulling away from him would mean she would have to deal with her fear alone. Or maybe because she had chosen to be cordial and her refusal to answer his question would be going against that. But still she didn’t say anything.

‘Why did it embarrass you to tell me that you went to school here?’ he asked, with a sudden urgency lighting up inside him that made it imperative for him to know. The same urgency that told him that whatever she didn’t want to tell him about her life was somehow tied to that.

‘It didn’t,’ she replied quickly. Too quickly for someone who had only a few minutes ago stiffened next to him.

‘Mila...’ It was a plea—one that came from that urgency—and it seemed to make a dent in that defensiveness she’d always had about her past. One he was beginning to realise he had, too.

She let out a huff. ‘I just didn’t want you to think about my crappy unstable childhood when you’d had the complete opposite.’

‘That embarrassed you?’ he asked incredulously, and a wave of shame washed through him. Had he said something to her that had made her feel embarrassed about her childhood? Did she really think his had been so wonderful?

‘Yes, it did,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You had an amazing home—one you could go to every day. You had a father who loved you. I had none of that.’

‘Why were you embarrassed by that?’

‘Because...’ She had reached the bottom of the stairs, but she didn’t seem to notice. She took another breath, and said, ‘Because it meant that I wasn’t worthy of someone like you.’