His heart began to race. A fact she was bound to notice as she was pressed against him. ‘Why the change of mind?’
She bit into her lip. ‘Just something Emma said to me.’
‘Emma? What on earth does she have to do with this?’
‘She thought it would do you good to talk to someone about what happened.’ There was a hesitancy to Faith’s voice, a tremor he didn’t associate with her. It made him realise she was as nervous about what he might say, as he was about saying it. ‘Emma also said I might understand you more if I heard it.’
That damn hope started to rear up inside him again. ‘Is it important to you to understand me more?’ Because I thought this was just a fling to you, he wanted to add, but kept his mouth shut. Too scared to hear her confirm it.
‘Yes. Is that okay with you?’
Was it okay that she wanted to know him more? A big resounding yes. Was it okay that he talked to her about what had happened? A bloody definite no. He didn’t want to see it change the way she thought of him.
This wasn’t about what he wanted, though. ‘I thought I was coming here for turkey sandwiches and whisky.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Sorry, I totally forgot.’ She began to wriggle off him, but he held onto her.
‘You deserve to know why I acted like such a prick for a lot of the time I’ve been here.’ He took in a deep breath, trying to find his balance. ‘And I’ve lost my appetite for the turkey.’
A frown appeared between her eyes. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I know.’ Knot after knot began to form in his stomach. ‘Before I do, I wouldn’t say no to the whisky.’
Faith could see Adam retreating into his quiet, reserved shell as he sat on her sofa and drank his whisky. She had half a mind to tell him to forget it. She didn’t want to know any of it after all. But she remembered Emma’s words. It would do Adam good to talk about it.
‘So.’ She curled up next to him and gave him an encouraging smile.
‘So.’ His large chest rose and fell, and the hand holding the whisky tensed around the glass. ‘I think you already know Ruth and I met at school. She was my first crush, first and only girlfriend.’ He lifted his gaze to hers. ‘Until you.’
Instantly a tide of emotion swept through her. This wasn’t a man who played fast and loose. He loved seriously, deeply. The look in his eyes suggested his feelings for her ran seriously and deeply, too. ‘When did you get married?’ she asked, more in an effort to divert her attention from her own feelings than a desire to know the answer.
‘Nearly four years ago. We were heading that way anyway, but Ruth fell pregnant.’
Faith’s heart jumped. ‘You have a child?’
And that’s when the mask he’d put on, the feelings he’d been so clearly determined to control, disintegrated before her eyes. She knew, without him telling her, that they’d lost the baby.
Adam gulped back the rest of his whisky, then leant forward to place the glass on the coffee table. As he did so, his hands shook and her heart ached for what he’d been through. What he’d lost.
‘Ruth lost the baby when she was eight months pregnant. We were …’ He inhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair. ‘We were on our way home from visiting her parents on Christmas Eve. The car spun off the road and landed in a ditch. By the time the ambulance came, by the time she got to hospital, the damage had been done.’ He was talking in a rush now, clearly desperate to get the explanation over. ‘She gave birth prematurely, and the baby survived for a short while, but the placenta had ruptured and …’ Another ragged breath. ‘Our son died on Christmas morning.’
Tears welled in her eyes as she saw the agony in Adam’s. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Silly, useless words, but she didn’t know what else to say. Grabbing his hand, she kissed his palm, her mind flashing back to yesterday. ‘That’s why you were so worried for Mary.’
‘Yeah.’ He scrubbed the hand she wasn’t clutching, across his face. ‘I acted like a total nut job, dragging that poor retired doctor out in a blizzard.’
‘She didn’t mind. And if she’d known what you’d been through, she’d probably have camped on the floor next to Mary all night to keep an eye on her.’ Each time he revealed something more about himself, she fell for him a little more, she thought hopelessly. ‘Now I can see exactly why you hate Christmas. It holds too many terrible memories.’
‘Yes.’
The way he said it, heavily, as if he was trying to wrestle with some of those huge weights he lifted, made her realise there was more to the story. ‘Your marriage didn’t recover from the loss?’ she hazarded.
‘You could say that.’
She could see how hard this was for him. How rigidly he held himself, how tight his expression was. Whatever else he had to say, she decided, she didn’t need to hear. She’d put him through enough.
But before she could tell him that, he was talking again.
‘Ruth blamed me for the accident.’ Though his voice was flat, his eyes looked tortured. ‘She blamed me for the death of our son.’
Faith’s hand automatically tightened over his. ‘Why?’
‘The roads were icy that night. Snow had started to fall. She didn’t want to risk driving home. Said we should stay at her parents for the night. I … I persuaded her we’d be fine.’ He hung his head, tugging his hand away from hers. ‘It was our first Christmas as husband and wife. I wanted us to wake up in our own bed.’
Her heart aching, she smoothed a hand down his rigid back, the action as much for her benefit as for his. ‘Of course you did. You weren’t to know you were going to have an accident. That’s impossible to predict.’
‘No.’ He wouldn’t look at her. ‘Ruth was right to blame me. Driving on icy roads is risky, yet I insisted on driving anyway. We didn’t have a four-wheel drive. We were going to buy one for when the baby …’ He paused, his Adam’s apple working overtime as he swallowed, clearly fighting for control. ‘We were in my rear-wheel drive. Everyone knows they’re poor in the snow. I took a risk with our son’s life. With all our lives. All because I selfishly wanted her to myself.’
Faith felt as if her heart was being ripped in two. How much guilt, how much grief had this man stored inside him all these years? ‘Ruth wasn’t right to blame you,’ she told him bluntly. ‘People in love support each other. They don’t screw with their minds, heaping on guilt for something that was clearly nobody’s fault.’ She was angry, she realised. Coldly, furiously, angry. ‘When you made the decision to drive, did you think, even for one moment, you were going to end up in a ditch?’
His big body stilled. ‘Of course not.’
‘Why not?’
He looked at her as if the answer was obvious. ‘It was snowy but the roads weren’t treacherous. At least I didn’t think they were.’ He choked over the words. ‘We only had six miles to drive. I thought we’d be okay.’
She wrapped her arms around him then, squeezing his body, feeling a tremor run through him. ‘Then it was a horrible, horrible accident. And you have to stop blaming yourself for it.’ She had a sudden image of Adam lying on his bed, her nephew curled on his chest, and guilt dragged at her insides. ‘Oh God, I made you look after Jack. No wonder you were so cross with me. I thought you were freaking out because, you know … men and babies.’
For the first time since he’d started talking, his face carried a hint of a smile. ‘There was a bit of that, too.’
And yet he’d looked so perfect with Jack; the baby and the gentle giant. She felt another rush of sadness for the man who’d lost the chance to comfort his own son.
‘Ruth accused me of …’ He tailed off, hanging his head. ‘She said I was responsible for his death.’
At the strangled words, Faith’s head snapped up and she stared at Adam incredulously. ‘She’s a bitch.’ E
ven as she said it, Faith knew the description was unfair. Ruth’s words would have been said out of crazed grief, not spite. Still, Faith’s instinct, her whole being, was centred on protecting Adam.
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Not a bitch, no. Just a woman, mourning the loss of her baby.’ He slumped back against the sofa and shut his eyes. ‘I understood why she said it. But …’ He shook his head, his breath coming out in a judder. ‘By God, it hurt.’
It was then, as she held his shuddering body in her arms, Faith realised she’d done more than fall for this man. She’d hurtled headlong into love with him.
‘Impossible situation,’ she muttered to herself.
Slowly his large frame started to relax, and he shifted so that he was holding her now, her head against his chest. ‘Thank you.’
She glanced up at him. ‘What on earth for?’
‘Listening. Not judging. Defending me.’
‘Always, always.’ And he didn’t know how true those words were. ‘Ruth’s family don’t blame you, do they?’
He gave her that small, tight smile. ‘Apparently not.’
‘But you thought they would,’ she murmured, speaking her thoughts out loud. ‘That’s why you kept avoiding Emma’s calls.’
‘That, and the fact that she was a reminder of Ruth, and everything that had happened. Everything I’d lost.’
She felt a pang of unwanted jealousy. Did he mean what he’d lost in terms of his son, or his marriage? The only woman he’d ever loved? Don’t go there, she told herself. He’d had enough heaped on his plate this evening. It was time to change the mood. ‘How do you feel about that turkey now,’ she said after a while. ‘Do you want some sandwiches?’
He sighed, his hands moving to her face, smoothing across her cheeks with such incredible gentleness. ‘I want you,’ he whispered, touching his mouth to hers. ‘Just you.’
Always. The word was there again, only this time she kept it to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Boxing Day
Adam took a final look around the room that had been home for the last ten days. He wouldn’t miss it, he decided. As nice as it was, he’d had enough of living within the confines of four small walls. Enough of eating food cooked by someone else, too. Again, as nice as that had been. As for trudging off to a gym each day to work out instead of walking down to his basement. Yeah, when he thought about it, there was a lot to look forward to in going home.
As long as his thoughts didn’t include picturing himself eating alone, sitting in front of the television, alone. Lying in his bed. Alone.
Misery clung to him as he zipped up his holdall and walked out of the door. Faith would be on the reception desk to check him out, as she’d promised earlier this morning. After he’d made love to her one final time.
Made love to her. Not had sex with her. He knew the distinction. Knew when they’d come together they were no longer two people having a fling. Hadn’t been for a few days, at least not on his side. His heart had become so tangled up with her now he couldn’t think straight any longer. He’d dumped a lot on her last night, yet she’d absorbed it, considered it, and come to his defence. For as long as he lived, he would never forget how angry she’d been on his behalf.
Her head turned towards him as he walked up to the desk and dropped his bag on the floor. So many things he wanted to say, needed to say, but he wondered if now was the right time.
‘So.’ It had become their standard conversation opener, only this time her accompanying smile looked like he felt. Wobbly. ‘I hear the snow’s nearly all gone. You should have a good trip back.’
Pain lanced through his chest and when he spoke his voice sounded thick and foreign to him. ‘There’s nothing good about driving away from you.’
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears and she drew in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly before she spoke again. ‘Well, thank you for being our first guest, Mr Hunter.’ Her voice shook. ‘I hope you enjoyed your stay.’
His mouth felt like it was full of sand. ‘I did,’ was all he could manage.
She handed him the invoice, and he didn’t miss how it trembled in her hands. Heart in his mouth, he covered her hand with his. ‘Faith.’
He didn’t know what he was going to say, but before he could say anything she was shaking her head. ‘No. Don’t say anything or I’ll break down in tears and I really, really don’t want my guests to see the hotel owner blubbering like a fool.’
‘This isn’t goodbye,’ he said firmly. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but he couldn’t walk out of the place thinking he wasn’t going to see her any more. It would kill him.
‘I hope not.’
‘I’ll phone—’
‘Please don’t,’ she cut in and he jerked as if she’d shot him, snatching his hand back.
Her eyes tracked his movements and she let out a half laugh, half sob. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean don’t phone. I meant please don’t make any promises. This last week has been, intense. Surreal.’ Tears crept slowly down her cheek and he reached to wipe them away, his thumb trailing over her soft skin. At once her hand clasped his, a sad smile crossing her face. ‘We both need to take a step back, get on with the mundane for a while. Take time to process.’
He knew she was right. What man falls in love over ten days? It was daft to think it had happened to him. And yet …
‘You don’t mind if I call you?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. I just don’t want to be the sad woman waiting for the call that never comes. I’d rather no promises, no mention of anything more than what we’ve just had. Which was awesome, by the way,’ she added on a rush, kissing his hand before releasing it.
Emotion lodged high in his throat and for the second time in as many days Adam felt he was going to cry. Yesterday it had been about the past. Today it was for a future he could see, but wasn’t sure was attainable. ‘It was, as you say, amazingly awesome.’
He handed over his credit card and silently she completed the transaction. Then there was nothing left for him to do but pick up his bag and walk out. Except he didn’t think his legs would let him do that.
She must have realised, because she touched his shoulder and gave him a light shove. ‘Go,’ she whispered, tears now streaming down her face. ‘Prolonging it just makes it worse.’
Stiffly he nodded. Without saying anything further, he forced his legs to walk away from her.
The moment the door shut behind Adam, Faith felt her heart crumple. She bent over, the pain in her chest a physical one, as if her heart really was breaking.
Blindly she stumbled into her office. Once she’d closed the door behind her she put her head in her hands and let all the tears she’d tried to hold back fall freely. Silently she cursed herself for stopping him when he’d started talking about making plans. This wouldn’t feel so final, so devastating, if she knew she’d hear from him again.
She hadn’t wanted him calling her because he’d promised to though – and a man as rock-steady as Adam would always follow up on his promises. He’d never play games with a woman, forget to call, treat her lightly. No, if Adam said he would call, he would make sure he did just that. Still, she wanted him contacting her because he couldn’t not do it. Because he couldn’t function without hearing her voice. Because he’d come to realise he no longer loved his ex-wife. He loved her.
There was a light tap on the glass and she glanced up to see Chloe. Quickly Faith grabbed at a tissue and wiped her eyes. Then she plastered a smile on her face and opened the door.
It clearly wasn’t much of a smile because Chloe, at times sullen, at times awkward, reached forward and gave her a hug.
‘Adam’s gone, hasn’t he?’ she asked as she drew back, giving Faith’s face a quiet study.
Faith tried to smile. ‘What gav
e it away?’
Chloe shrugged, though there was amusement in her eyes. ‘Just a good guess.’
Faith put her hands on Chloe’s shoulders, returning the scrutiny. ‘Enough about me, how about you and Stuart? I guess he’ll be off today, too.’
‘Yeah, but it turns out he doesn’t live that far away.’ She blushed, the first time Faith had ever seen her niece properly blush. ‘We’ve made plans to see each other on New Year’s Eve.’
And though her heart was breaking for herself, and the plans she didn’t have, it lifted for Chloe.
Thankfully the rest of Boxing Day was so busy Faith didn’t have much time to dwell. She had guests checking out, followed by two sets of guests checking in. They were a surprise last-minute booking, courtesy of a recommendation from Joe and Mary. Her dad had been right, Faith thought as she stripped one of the vacated beds ready for the new arrivals. The hotel had gained a set of fans over the last few days.
Once the new rooms were ready, Faith was about to head back to the office when something stopped her, drawing her towards Adam’s room instead. No longer his room, she reminded herself, feeling the awful drag on her heart. She should leave it for the housekeeper who was back in tomorrow. She didn’t need to see the empty room.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was opening the door.
Tears flooded her eyes the moment she saw the neatly made bed. Typical of the man that he’d left the place tidy.
It shouldn’t hurt this much, she thought as she walked towards it. He was supposed to have been a bit of Christmas excitement. Not a man she’d fall in love with. Not a man who’d break her heart when he left.
Gingerly she touched the pillow. Imagined his head on it. Stupidly she bent down and inhaled. Longing tore through her as the scent of his familiar aftershave wafted up her nose.
On a sob she climbed onto the bed, hugging the pillow to her. And wept. It was while she was trying to pull herself together that she heard her phone ping. Glancing down she noticed a text from a number not in her phone.
A Little Christmas Faith Page 19