by Rachel Dove
‘Six months ago, when I was tipsy and upset! Where were you then? Breaking some other girl’s heart?’
Wow, where did that come from? Aidan’s girlfriend question had obviously stuck in her mind.
‘What? No! I had a contract, I told you. I worked my notice and left the same day. I came back. We’ve been over this. I told you the truth. I didn’t want to do this over the phone. Why are you mad again?’ He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at it a little in frustration. ‘We need to talk about it all, about why I left.’
Annabel almost relented right there and then. He was offering to tell her why he’d left her that day, to raise his secret son alone and pick up the pieces of her life. She knew he hadn’t known about the baby—hell, she was a trained paramedic and she hadn’t even realised she was pregnant herself. She’d lain awake for so many nights, gazing down at her ever-expanding belly and wondering what Harry would have done if he’d known back then. If she’d called him on any of those nights.
The fact was, though, it was in the past. Some things you couldn’t just take back. She was glad he knew now. The knot in the pit of her stomach had almost fossilised over the last eight years, and now the secret was out she felt lighter. Stronger too. She wasn’t quite that panicked, worried mother she’d been six months ago. It had been a moment of weakness and, no matter what he said, she had spent all of Aidan’s life believing Harry to be an utter cad. Nothing he told her would change that, and it was yet another reason to keep him at arm’s length. She didn’t want to betray that girl at the airport, the sacrifices they had all had to make since. It was painful enough to remember those early days. She had blocked a lot of them out. She would never have survived otherwise. It had just been the three of them for so long. Her, Abe and Aidan. While Harry had lived it up on the other side of the world as a ghost to those who loved him, a breaker of hearts.
‘Tell me something first,’ she said quietly. He leaned in a little, and she found herself leaning further away from him, pushing herself against her car. He made her head swim even now, but she needed to get this out.
‘Anything,’ he breathed. She clenched her teeth and looked him square in the eye.
‘I did want to listen to what you have to say. I do. But answer this one thing for me. Whatever you have to tell me, will it erase what you did that day? Leaving me standing there like an idiot with my suitcases, and walking away from me? Making everyone we know wonder what they had done wrong.’
He reeled as though her words had slapped him across his chiselled features. ‘Well, no, but if you j—’
‘Then I don’t need to know. Aidan is your son, you wanted to meet him—well, here he is.’ She gestured with her hand towards the house, and spotted Abe watching them from behind the curtain. When he saw her looking he melted away and the curtains were pulled shut. ‘Go meet him. He’s a great kid. He will probably have a million questions for you. He’s always wanted to go and see other countries. With one thing and another, we’ve not had a lot of time for holidays.’ He winced, and she pushed down her sarcasm once more. ‘I’m sorry, I really have to go.’
‘To the dream house, yeah? You never answered me before.’
Great. Was everything about her life on show now, for him to comment on? She could tell he wasn’t about to let this drop.
‘Yes, the dream house. It’s part of a different dream now, though. One for me and Aidan. I’ll see you at work, okay?’
She left him standing by the kerb, hands on his hips. As she drove away, she willed herself not to look back at him in the mirror, but she found herself watching him as she drove away. When he was out of sight she brushed a tear away from her cheek and willed herself to pull it together. The way he’d looked at her was killing her.
Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if he would stay. What would London have to offer over Dubai for a man like him? Abe wasn’t sick; he was still as fit as a fiddle and as sharp as a drawer full of knives. He’d not come back through obligation.
He said he’d come back because of her, but whenever she thought about thawing enough to speak to him properly, to hash out the last few years, Aidan’s little face popped into her head. The way she’d felt in that airport. The years of people asking her about her son’s father. All the times she had covered for him, making herself look worse in order for the people in their lives not to hate Harry, to tell him about his son. Any one of them could have got in touch with Harry to tell him about Aidan, to berate him for leaving them both. She had never wanted that, nor had she wanted to be a charity case either. She knew him well enough to know that he would have come home to do the right thing. The right thing by her, the woman he said he loved—but not enough to treat her better in the first place.
She’d chosen her path, and even though Aidan had had tears over the years about not having a dad like most of his school friends, they’d done just fine. She wasn’t about to change that. Not on the strength of a few days, or because she knew how nostalgic she felt when Harry was around her. The thought of Aidan getting to know his father and then getting an airport goodbye like she did was enough to keep her driving away from him, and not driving back into his arms. What if he had run back home to hide from another woman he had left, back in Dubai? Could she trust him, really?
She had felt her resolve weakening when he was there right in front of her, but their compatibility had never been the problem. Him leaving her high and dry was the issue, and she just knew that she would never survive that again. When he told her the reason he’d left, and she knew he would, it would either make her hate him forever or make it that bit harder not to fall completely back in love with him. Given his eagerness to tell her and the way he’d looked at her, she was guessing it would be the latter. She needed a minute to prepare at least. She wasn’t a young girl any more. She had other people to consider.
By the time she pulled up outside her house, giving a wave to the waiting gardener, all her tears had been shed and she had composed herself once more. Yet another piece of gauze wrapped around her shattered heart.
* * *
She wanted to know.
As Harry watched the love of his life drive away he thought his heart would snap in two. She still didn’t fully trust him, and that thought was one that he could barely bear. Slapping his hand to his forehead the second her car turned out of sight, he kept his back to the house and willed himself to pull it together. He ran his hands down his face, surprised when they came away wet with his tears. He felt lower than a snake’s belly and, after the day he’d left her, he didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse. The light had gone out of his Annie, and he was the reason.
Pulling himself together, he turned back to the house. It was time to get to know his son and prove to his mother that he was still the man she’d once adored. He knew it would be a battle, but Harrison Carter was ready to stand and fight with everything he had.
‘Hey,’ he called when he walked back into the house. Aidan was playing a board game with Abe, rolling the dice as if his little life depended on it. Abe looked at him expectantly, and Harry shook his head. Abe scowled, his shoulders sagging.
‘Stubborn,’ he said to no one in particular. Harry’s mouth twitched.
‘Mum says I’m stubborn too.’ Aidan was looking straight at Harry now, and Abe stood up from his seat.
‘I’ll put the kettle on. I bought extra marshmallows for the hot chocolate too.’
‘Did she now?’ Harry went to sit on the couch next to his son, taking the opportunity to continue the conversation.
‘Yep. Are you really stubborn too?’
Grinning, Harry nodded, taking in every little detail of the child in front of him. ‘I’ve been told that before, so yes, I’m stubborn.’
Aidan grinned. ‘I knew it. Want to play?’
He offered Harry the dice, and he took them gratefully. ‘There’s nothing I
’d like better.’
CHAPTER FOUR
DRIVING BACK HOME the next day after the hectic rush of the morning school run, Annabel played back the previous evening in her head. Aidan had crashed out on the couch at Abe’s house, which meant that she took her supper to go, wanting to get Aidan into his own bed. Harry had carried him out to the car and not pressed for anything else. He’d closed the car door, leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek, then simply walked back inside. She’d been left leaning against her car door, feeling as if her face was on fire from the touch of his lips, and confused about his sudden mood change. Had he given up already?
This morning Aidan had been full of Harry talk, about how awesome he was, how much Granddad had laughed, how rubbish Harry was at Scrabble. She had a feeling they’d had a lot of fun and she wished she could have seen them together. Seeing Harry striding across Abe’s front path, their sleeping son in his arms, could quite easily have been her favourite calendar photo for the next, oh, ten years. He was so natural with him, and when he’d leant in close and kissed her on the cheek she’d almost turned and sought his lips. By the time she’d argued with herself about the merits of leaving or grabbing his face and kissing the life out of him, he’d turned and left, leaving her shell-shocked and standing on the front lawn, clinging to her car like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood. She thanked her lucky stars it was their day off and she could recover. Maybe even take a cold shower.
Pulling up in front of her house, she frowned when she noticed a car parked outside. She wasn’t expecting any workmen today, and the landscape gardener wasn’t due to start for a few days. She thought the car looked familiar on the second look, and when she parked up and the car door opened she knew why.
‘Morning!’ Harry was standing there, dressed in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt that made his tanned skin look all the more alluring. She could make out the contours of his muscular body under the thin white cotton. His hair was neat and styled and he was holding two coffees in his hands and a rather large brown paper bag. ‘Aidan let slip that you were decorating your lounge today, so I thought I’d come to help.’
In contrast to the well put together Adonis before her, Annabel felt like fresh roadkill. She’d scraped her hair back into a messy bun that morning, she had pancake batter down her hooded sweatshirt from making Aidan breakfast and she was currently wearing her paint-splattered decorating joggers. She wanted the ground to swallow her up.
‘I...er...’ She could smell the coffee now as they gravitated towards each other. She scrambled for a response that would make him leave but gave in when her stomach rumbled. She thought back to last night and smiled at him. His face lit up when he saw it and broke out in a sexy grin.
Oh, Harry.
‘It depends. What’s in the bag?’
‘Bacon rolls with red sauce,’ he teased, raising his eyebrows. ‘You eaten?’
She threw him a grin of her own. ‘I’m starved.’
He gestured towards the house. ‘Breakfast for a tour? I brought some dust sheets from Dad too; he said you might need some.’
They walked up to the house together and Annabel watched him take it in as she unlocked the door and motioned for him to come inside.
‘It looks so different. I can’t believe you bought the place.’
Annabel laughed, thinking of the time warp she had sunk every penny into. ‘I could hardly keep the old decor of the place as it was. Maud was lovely, but she didn’t really bother with interior design. I found newspapers under the floorboards older than my grandfather. It’s taken a lot of work to even get to this stage.’
They were standing next to each other in the hallway, and once more she felt the pull of him. They were here, in the house they’d always sworn they’d buy together, where they’d raise a family while saving the world one patient at a time. They were here, and so were the details, but the reality was far different.
I know he feels this too.
One look at him, and she knew. He was feeling everything she was, including the urge to just reach for the other and breathe them in. She felt so thirsty for him, and he was the one man that she couldn’t drink in. It would never be just a sip, and then she’d be lost forever.
Not forever. He’ll probably be gone by Christmas.
Annabel wasn’t sure whether it was her voice she heard in her head or her mother’s.
She saw his gaze fall on a photo of her and Aidan, taken at Aidan’s last birthday party. It was sitting in the hallway on top of a box of stuff she couldn’t unpack yet.
‘I bet,’ he replied, moving through the hallway and into the lounge. The builders had knocked through to the dining room and freshly plastered; it looked huge now. Annabel pinched herself every time she walked through the door. It was awful living in a building site, but the space was well worth it. Every week she saw her house come together, and it was worth all the dust and the hassle. She couldn’t wait to just come home and enjoy her time off with Aidan. Barbecues in the garden with his friends coming around, Abe coming for Sunday dinner. Maybe she would even invite Harry too, if he was still around.
‘Annabel, did you hear me?’
She realised that Harry was talking to her, and she followed him through to the lounge.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. What?’
* * *
He was looking at the paint tins and rollers that were sitting off to one side. ‘This is what you’re doing today?’ He looked at the light grey paint colour on the side of one of the cans. ‘Nice colour.’
‘Thanks, yeah. I was hoping to get it done but, looking at it...’ That was the only problem with a big space; it meant more work.
Harry sat down on the floor and patted the floor beside him. ‘We’ll get it done. Eat first though, yeah?’
‘We? Really?’
Harry shook his head at her. ‘Annabel, this is getting old now. I’m here. For you, for Aidan. I’m not going anywhere. Just let me help, okay?’
Annabel sighed, taking a seat next to him.
‘What, no rebuttal?’ he asked, amusement clear in his voice and the twitch in his lip.
‘What can I say?’ she countered, holding out her hand for him to shake. ‘A girl will do anything for bacon.’
* * *
After they’d demolished everything he’d brought they got to work. Well, Harry just started opening the paint cans and laying out the dust sheets and Annabel followed his lead. She flicked on the radio and, before too long, the pair of them were rollering the walls and singing along to the music. They kept to the small talk, nothing too taxing and nothing about the past. He told her some stories from his job in Dubai, some of the best and worst cases he’d had, and she found herself telling him hers, about their colleagues and the things that had happened to the station family over the years.
‘Purdie still working at the hospital then?’ Harry was wiggling his bum to a Diana Ross track, his brush making precise neat strokes along the top of the freshly fitted skirting boards. ‘I thought she’d have retired by now, gone home to her family.’
Annabel rolled her eyes at him. ‘Not quite, not from lack of trying though. I think she’s always too worried about letting her patients down; she talks about it, but then never quite follows it through. I think she might soon though; her family has changed now, expanding. You don’t have anyone you miss, from Dubai?’
They ended up at the paint can at the same time, their brushes banging into each other as they both went to dip the bristles into the paint. His other hand was on hers in a second.
‘I had friends, yes, good friends. We’ll stay in touch. You know I was telling the truth right, about not having anyone over there?’
‘I did wonder.’
His jaw flexed. ‘Yeah, well, you don’t have to. There wasn’t anyone. Even if I had been looking, no one would have come close to you.’ His
hand was still on hers, his grip tightening just a little.
She swallowed hard. ‘I’m a tough act to follow,’ she teased back, feeling as if her skin was on fire from his touch. He took the brush from her and crossed it with his across the top of the paint can.
‘I don’t really care what you thought. I can’t blame you for wondering. It wasn’t like I hadn’t imagined you with someone else, someone else making you happy. I never looked at anyone else once I met you. I know you don’t trust me, but you can trust that.’
‘I do.’ She squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb along the back like she always did. They’d always had a thing about hand holding. In the car, on the couch watching TV, in bed as they fell asleep. ‘I know that.’ Their hands were having a little reunion of their own.
Harry moved, and his mouth was on hers before she even registered the movement. For a long, sweet, heart-pumping minute she kissed him back. She could feel his stubble on her cheek as he lowered his mouth to her neck, leaving a trail of hot salty caresses on her collarbone as he pulled her closer. He pushed the paint can to one side with his knee and lifted her up with him till their torsos touched. The feel of his body against hers ignited something in her, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her greedily. He pulled her to her feet, not once letting their lips or arms break contact. He walked her backwards towards the wall and, remembering at the last moment that it was wet with fresh paint, she pushed against him gently to stop him. He noticed and pulled away in an instant, his face pulled into a frown.
‘Sorry, did I do something wrong? Do you want me to stop? I just couldn’t help it. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you.’
She giggled, lifting a hand to smooth out his furrowed brow. ‘Wet paint,’ she reminded him. ‘And me too.’
He smiled, his expression changing from stricken concern to happiness, and he moved his hands around her bottom, lifting her till she was straddling him, secure in his arms. They had just reached the hallway towards the bottom of the stairs when there was a loud knock at the door.