The Unexpected Consequences of Love

by Jill Mansell

  “It’s been a good night,” said Matt.

  Sophie smiled. “It has.”

  “Isn’t it weird? Tomorrow we drive back to London and the chances are that we’ll never see each other again.” He paused. “Could be why it’s been so easy to talk to you.”

  “Probably.”

  “You haven’t asked me how Louisa died.”

  “Not up to me to ask that. It’s none of my business.” Oh, unless you murdered her…

  But he hadn’t; she knew that. Poor man.

  “Friends and family know. I’ve never told a stranger before.”

  They were standing outside her flat now. Matt turned to her, a bleak look on his face.

  “You don’t need to tell me.” Louisa had been ill, then she’d died. Up until now, Sophie had assumed it was some form of cancer. But would that really be so difficult to say?

  “I want to tell you.” She could see the tension in his jaw. “You realize I’m using you to practice on. The first time has to be the worst.” Matt paused, then said in a rush, “She had postpartum depression. I didn’t know how bad it was. And then she killed herself. Oh God…” His voice began to wobble and crack. “Okay, said it now. She committed suicide, jumped off a bridge and left us, and I know it only happened because she was ill, but you can’t imagine how it feels, knowing your wife would rather be dead than stay with you.” He shook his head, correcting himself. “With us.”

  Chapter 44

  Dot and Antoine had bumped into some of Dot’s old friends in the hotel bar and were busy catching up with each other’s news, so Josh had volunteered to bring Griff out for his late-evening walk. They’d made their way along the beach and back, taking advantage of the tide being out. For the last forty minutes he’d been throwing Griff’s ball across the wet sand and Griff had bounded after it, never tiring of playing his favorite game.

  Now Josh was wishing he’d bribed one of the hotel staff to do the job instead.

  Okay, not quite true. Knowing had to be better than not knowing, surely.

  But the sight had hit him like a punch in the stomach from a pro. There was Sophie, standing outside her flat fifty meters away, locked in a clearly emotional embrace with another man. Her hair gleamed pale gold in the reflected glow of the street lamp overhead. The man who was holding her was taller, darker, and no one Josh recognized. It wasn’t a normal hug between acquaintances, that much was obvious. They weren’t letting go of each other.

  And now, finally and with reluctance, they were. Words were exchanged; their heads remained close together, his hands still rested on Sophie’s arms. Griff, suddenly realizing who it was, pricked up his ears and let out a whimper of excited recognition.

  “Shhh,” whispered Josh, before the dog could break into a giveaway volley of barks.

  Together they watched as Sophie slipped the bangle off her wrist, fitted the key into the lock, and opened the front door. The next moment she and the man had disappeared inside. Then the light went on in the flat upstairs and Sophie appeared silhouetted in the window, reaching up to pull the curtains closed.

  Right, well, that told him all he needed to know. Josh turned and gave Griff’s leash a tug to show him they were heading home.

  Fuck. Just what he hadn’t needed to see.

  Also, who was the man spending the night in Sophie’s flat?

  ***

  “Sorry about that.” Matt blew his nose on a tissue. “So much for promising not to be an embarrassment. What a wuss.”

  Sophie shook her head. “You’re not a wuss. Your wife died. It’s allowed.”

  “Haven’t cried like that in months. Pretty brave of you, letting me into your flat.” He attempted a smile, took a mouthful of coffee, and grimaced because it was now tepid.

  “Do you feel better?”

  “I think so. A bit. It’s the guilt.” Matt sighed. “The shame. The endless wondering if I said or did something to cause it, just one stupid, careless thing that tipped her over the edge.” He paused. “And knowing that other people are wondering it too.”

  Sophie said nothing. She couldn’t tell him about Theo; the very last thing he needed was for her to try to compete. And how could she, anyway? His wife had died, leaving him alone to bring up two children. She couldn’t begin to comprehend how that felt. All she understood was the guilt and the shame, coupled with the hideous, inescapable knowledge that she most certainly had done something to cause her own husband to want to end his life.

  “I’m seeing a grief counselor,” Matt continued. “I told him I wished Louisa had been killed in a car crash. Anything else would have been better than this.”

  “Because then you wouldn’t have had to feel responsible? You probably still would, though.” Sophie shrugged. “One way or another you’d have found something to feel guilty about. It’s what people do.”

  Another wry smile. “He said that too.”

  “You can’t see it now, but things will get easier. Eventually. Sorry,” said Sophie. “I bet when people say that it just makes you want to stab them.”

  “Sometimes. Not you, though. And I know.” Matt grimaced. “There’s no magic pill. I just have to get through it. My mother says she knows I can’t imagine it now, but one day I’ll meet someone else, fall in love again, maybe even get married…” He was shaking his head at the seeming impossibility of the idea.

  “She’s right.” Sophie’s throat tightened. “It’ll happen. One day.”

  Oh God, listen to me. What a hypocrite.

  He left shortly after that, heroically finishing his cold coffee and thanking her again for listening to him. They exchanged another brief hug, she gave him the framed print, and he carried it out to the car.

  Sophie stood on the doorstep and waved as he drove off down the narrow street. Poor Matt. And what a lot of rubbish she’d told him. That was the thing about platitudes: they were easy to say, far less easy to put into practice.

  Look at me, four years down the line and still completely unable to move on. What a pity I can’t take my own advice.

  ***

  The following morning Bonnie, Jem, and Cal came to see Josh in his office.

  It was decision time.

  “Okay, we’ve stuck to our side of the bargain.” Cal had his charming face on. “We came all this way to see you, yeah? So you know how important this is to us. But we haven’t hassled you, have we? We’ve stepped back and given you the time and space to, like, make up your mind.”

  “Most generous of you,” Josh murmured.

  They gazed at him uncertainly; getting to grips with the British sense of humor had always been beyond them.

  “We’ve been nice to everyone.” Mindful of the time he’d called them ill-mannered spoiled brats, Bonnie flashed her ultrawhite smile. “Even the staff.”

  “The whole time we’ve been here,” Jem chimed in. “Nice nice nice, signing stuff, posing for photos, even when people were being really annoying. We’ve been, like, so patient with them.”

  “Sounds like you’re reformed characters. That’s great,” said Josh. “Good to know. Well done.”

  “So?” Cal couldn’t contain himself a moment longer.

  “So what?”

  “We want you to manage us again, man. Will you do it?”

  Josh looked at them for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not? We came all this way.”

  “That was your idea, not mine. You didn’t have to come over,” said Josh. “Could have just asked me in a phone call.”

  “And you would have said no.”

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “I’d have said no.”

  Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been there, done that, don’t need to do it all over again. I like it better here.”

  “Is there anything we can do to change
your mind?” Bonnie’s face had fallen; she looked as if she might burst into tears.

  Feeling sorry for her, but not that sorry, Josh said, “Afraid not.”

  “Oh, for Chrissake, I fucking knew it.” Cal aimed a vicious kick at the trash can next to the desk. “You selfish fucking bastard.”

  It hadn’t taken him long to revert to his old ways. Faintly amused because it was no longer his problem, Josh pointed to Cal and said, “That too.”

  “You think you’re such a smart-ass, don’t you? Well, you can kiss good-bye to the chrome limo,” Cal snarled. “Loser.”

  “Can I? Really?” Josh raised an eyebrow. “Thank God for that.”

  Chapter 45

  Fresh flowers had been laid on Aurora’s grave. Top of the line ones, at that. No prizes for guessing who’d put them there.

  Lawrence quelled the immature urge to hide them behind the black granite headstone. The elegant arrangement of creamy calla lilies, perfect roses, and pale exotic orchids put his own modest offering to shame. Which had perhaps been the intention.

  But they were Antoine’s style rather than Aurora’s. The reason Lawrence picked flowers from the garden was because homegrown flowers were what she’d liked best. An exuberant mix of colors, shapes, and sizes bundled gloriously together and spilling out of their stone vase. Friendly flowers rather than the severe, better-than-you, too-perfect kind.

  Bending down, Lawrence moved the other arrangement a couple of inches to the left and lifted last week’s dying bunch out of the vase. By the time he’d finished disposing of them, fetching fresh water from the tap at the far end of the graveyard, and arranging today’s offering of daisies, forget-me-nots, hollyhocks, gentians, and foxgloves, he was no longer alone.

  “Hello,” said Antoine.

  “Hi.” Lawrence turned to acknowledge his presence before making further adjustments to the pink and purple foxgloves. It was unlikely to be a chance encounter; this section of the graveyard was clearly visible from the end window on the second-floor landing of the hotel. At a guess, Antoine had spotted him and come down here to speak to him for some reason.

  “Do you still miss her?”

  For a split second, Lawrence thought he meant Dot. Then he realized…of course Antoine was talking about Aurora.

  “Yes.” He nodded; either way, the answer would have been the same.

  “I left those.” Antoine indicated the lavish arrangement swathed in cellophane.

  “I guessed. Very nice.” See? He could be polite.

  “Yours are charming too.” There was a fractional pause before the word charming.

  “I know,” said Lawrence.

  “It’s been wonderful, getting to know Dot. She’s an extraordinary person.”

  Lawrence nodded briefly; he knew that too.

  “In fact, I’m taking her to Paris tomorrow. She doesn’t even know yet. It’s a surprise.”

  “Well, Paris is a great city.” Seriously, how did Antoine expect him to react?

  “But of course. And Dot deserves a treat. She works hard.”

  “Will she want to go? Who’s going to run the hotel?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve cleared it with Josh. He says it’s fine.”

  “Okay. Well, that’s good.”

  “And don’t worry about Dot either. I’ll treat her like a princess.” A strategic pause. “You should know, Lawrence, that my intentions toward her are serious. I would never hurt her.”

  Unlike me, you mean.

  “Right.” What else could he say? Lawrence realized that his short fingernails were digging into his clenched palms. Straightening up from the flowers, he looked Antoine in the eye and said, “Well, have a nice time.”

  As he walked away, he heard Antoine behind him say silkily, “Thank you. I know we will.”

  ***

  “Tula.” Josh paused at the reception desk, where she was helping out. “Okay to hold the fort for a bit? I’m taking Griff out for a walk.” He held up his phone. “Any problems, just give me a call.”

  “No problem, will do. Ah, wasn’t it romantic this morning?” Tula said dreamily. “I can’t stop thinking about it. The look on Dot’s face when she found out.”

  “I know.” Josh smiled; it may have been orchestrated for maximum effect, but that was clearly Antoine’s way. He’d made sure plenty of people were around to witness the moment he’d told Dot to pack a case and make sure she didn’t forget her passport because they were off to Paris.

  “Oh my word.” Dot’s blue eyes had widened as she’d realized Josh was in on it. “I can’t believe it… I’ve never been whisked away to Paris before! I’ve never been whisked away anywhere.”

  “Then that is a travesty,” Antoine had pronounced. “And I’m very glad to be able to redress it. This shall be the first of many whisks away, I promise.”

  An over-the-top declaration, but undoubtedly romantic.

  Josh collected Griff, clipped the leash to his collar, and was about to leave when Tula called out, “Ooh, you wouldn’t be going past Sophie’s place, would you?”

  The mention of Sophie’s name sent a reflexive zing through his chest. “Why?”

  “I left my iPod at her flat yesterday. And I’m doing a double shift today, so I can’t get down there.”

  She was doing the double shift as a favor to him, helping to cover Dot’s absence. Josh nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll drop by and pick it up.”

  “That’d be brilliant. Thanks. You’re a star.”

  Josh left with Griff. What if he rang the doorbell and the man who’d spent the night with Sophie was still there? And he had to be polite to him?

  God, I must be some kind of masochist.

  But in a weird way, he did actually want to see him. This, after all, was the man who’d achieved the impossible task of seducing Sophie Wells. Masochistic it might be, but he needed to know who he was, what he looked like.

  Sophie didn’t answer the door naked and wrapped in a sheet, which was something. Then again, it was four o’clock in the afternoon.

  “Oh, hi. Hello, lovely boy!” She bent down and gave Griff’s ears the kind of enthusiastic scratch that sent him into a frenzy of delighted squirming and tail wagging.

  Lucky, lucky dog.

  “Tula asked me to drop by.” Was the man upstairs? Was he about to come face-to-face with him? Josh mentally prepared himself for the worst. “She says she left her iPod here yesterday.”

  “She did.” Straightening up, Sophie turned and beckoned for them to follow her. “Come on in. You’ll have to carry Griff—I’ve got stuff laid out all over the floor.”

  Upstairs, there was no sign of last night’s visitor. Josh held on to Griff and made his way between the groups of photos littering the carpet.

  “Are you okay? Can you manage? Sorry, it’s just the best way to sort them into order.”

  “No problem.” He looked at the expanse of geranium-red wall above the sofa. “What happened to my favorite picture?”

  Sophie had her back to him; she was busy rummaging through her oversized turquoise and silver bag. “Which picture?” She turned to see where he was pointing. “Oh, that one. I gave it away to its rightful owners. You won’t believe what happened… I saw the two children sitting outside a café yesterday and recognized the girl from her hair. It wasn’t until I’d told their dad and brought them back here to give them the print that he told me his wife died not long after it was taken. And it was her foot in the corner of the picture. He was really pleased to have it.”

  “I bet he was. That’s amazing.” Had she ended up sleeping with the man? It had certainly looked that way last night. Not that he could point this out. Josh said, “So they just took the print and left?”

  “He invited me out to dinner.” Sophie shook her head slightly. “Poor guy, he’s really struggling. His mum and dad b
abysat to give him a break and we went out for something to eat. Okay, this is annoying, I could have sworn I’d put Tula’s iPod in my bag, but now I can’t find it anywhere. Let me think, let me think… What did I do with it?” She straightened up, clearly attempting to concentrate. “I’ve put it in a safe place and now I can’t remember where that is.”

  The next twenty minutes were like a special form of torture for Josh, as Sophie searched all over the flat and changed the subject entirely to that of all the things she’d inexplicably lost over the years.

  “…and once I lost my front door key and didn’t find it again until I got the Christmas decorations out the next year and there it was, all tangled up with the twinkle lights—oh, here it is! Can you believe that? It was in the bottom of my bag all the time…” She pulled out the iPod and waved it at him with relief. “I knew I’d put it in there!”

  At last. At last he could casually return the conversation to the new owner of the framed print. “So you went out to a restaurant with this guy.” His heart was speeding up but he maintained his outer cool. Drily he said, “You, on a date. That’s what I call a miracle.”

  “Except it wasn’t a date. In any shape or form. He just needed to talk to someone about the terrible time he’s going through. It got pretty emotional.” Sophie paused and shrugged. “Well, why wouldn’t he be upset? Anyway, I’m glad I gave him the photograph…”

  The words trailed away and Sophie gazed out of the window, mercifully oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts ricocheting around inside Josh’s head. He slowly exhaled with relief; what he’d seen last night wasn’t what he’d thought he’d seen. Just from the way she was, he now knew without question that there had been no sex, nothing physical of that nature. The prolonged embrace had happened because the man was grieving, overcome with emotion, possibly in tears and in need of sympathy.

  And who better to comfort him than Sophie?

  “How did his wife die?”

  She glanced at him, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then shrugged. “No idea. Didn’t ask.”