by Zee Monodee
“I took the children and went back to London. That was nearly five years ago. The only part of my past I kept in touch with was my mother. I left this life behind me to bring up my sons.” He paused again. “And then, I met you, and I’ve wanted to believe again. In love, in happiness.”
He left the words hanging. He wouldn’t say more. Trent must have this pegged down as a take-it-or-leave-it moment.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
Silence shrouded them like a cloak, ensconcing them in a world where only the two of them existed.
When the shrill tune of her mobile phone rang, both blinked out of the spell. Diya didn’t know if she needed to answer the call, or let it be.
But the ringing refused to stop. An ominous echo resonated in its intensity. As she took the device out of the pocket of her jeans, he closed a hand on hers, the phone clutched in both their grips.
“Let it drop,” he said. “We need to talk.”
His words resembled an order more than anything else, and a renewed burst of revolt surged in her. He had no right to tell her what to do.
“It might be important.”
“Our conversation is important, too.”
The phone kept its insistent ring, and Trent closed his hand in a vicious grip over hers. His eyes locked with hers, probing her with their intensity. There burnt a light in them, one she’d never encountered before. The blaze of that fire dried her throat and her mouth with its mere presence, and licks of apprehension tingled along her spine.
“Bloody hell, Diya. Cut the damn phone.”
His voice rang low, but the order couldn’t have resounded more powerfully in her mind.
Shrugging her hand out of his grip, she met his glare with defiance and vehemence, the sparks in both their eyes clashing.
“No,” she said, before she proceeded to answer it.
The hard veil of distrust shrouded his features, and his eyes drew to slits. She squirmed under their steady observation, but the voice at the other end of the line obliterated everything in their battle of wills.
“Dee, Eric here. It’s Lara. We’re heading for the clinic. She’s gonna have the baby.”
Everything inside her head blanked out upon hearing his frantic voice. “But she’s just eight months along!”
“There are some pretty good chances at this stage. We have to do it. She’s has pre-eclampsia, and risking more complications.”
“Pre-what?” she asked. “Whatever. Is there anything I can do?”
“Can you please go home, and stay with the children? Karine and Therese are there, but it’ll be better if they have family around. They’re scared, Dee. They saw the ambulance taking her away, and—”
“I’m heading over right now.”
Adrenaline pumped in her veins. But the high couldn’t overwhelm her concern for her sister.
“She’ll be okay, innit?” Her voice sounded low and afraid to her own ears.
“We can only pray right now,” he replied with a soft sigh.
Diya lowered the phone, lost in her thoughts. She turned around to enter her Ranger, and that’s when she noticed Trent still stood next to her. Worry had drawn his brows together, and the clamped set of his jaw made his chiselled features appear like rough carvings in hard marble.
She bit her lip. Would she ever stop losing her breath at the sight of him?
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Shaking the cobwebs of shock off her, she opened the car door and replied over her shoulder. “My sister’s having her baby before term.”
He closed a hand on her arm, but with incredible gentleness this time.
When she peered up at him, everything on his face begged her to believe his words.
But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“I have to go, Trent. My family needs me.”
“I need you, too. Tell me we’re still okay.”
His voice bled raw with pain and longing, and the emotions clutched at what remained of her battered heart.
“Let me go. Please.” Her words were barely above a whisper. How could she even have uttered a sound, with so much turmoil inside her?
“Don’t do this to us.”
She tasted the bitter tang of tears in her throat, and seconds later, her eyes burned with the salty liquid.
He clenched his jaw, and a hard edge iced his eyes. “Diya ...”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
When he dropped his hand from her arm, he dragged everything from inside her. Like the tugging pull of the sea drawing its waves, he drained all the emotion and the feelings in her, to leave the brittle walls of an empty shell behind.
Take it or leave it.
Diya had never heard of an expression more suited to the personality of Trent Garrison.
But she couldn’t.
“I didn’t do anything, Trent. You did,” she said softly.
When she got in the vehicle and closed the door, she didn’t—couldn’t—look beyond the steering wheel. Because then, she’d know for good what she’d let go of.
With tears clouding her vision and pain ripping her heart out, she started the engine and drew farther and farther away from the man she loved.
Chapter Sixteen
“He’s so … tiny.”
Diya shivered as she stared at the baby cradled in Eric’s arms. Granted, the boy had been born a preemie, but still ...
“He weighs a little less than six pounds. That’s very good, actually,” Eric said.
“Yet, I’ve never seen such a tiny thing.”
He chuckled. “Maybe he takes after his aunt.”
“Cut it out.” She glared at him. “Stop taking the mickey, will you?”
He threw his head back and laughed, and she shook her head, hoping the frown on her face said, “Grow up, mate.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “How will you guys name him? Poor little thing. Four days old, and he still doesn’t have a name. Can’t keep referring to him as ‘baby Marivaux’ now, can we?”
“Raphael,” Lara said. “His name is Raphael.”
Propped in bed, she almost disappeared against the plump pillows. Her two eldest sat at her feet, their attention glued to the cartoon channel on the TV.
Diya left the corner where she’d been standing next to the fibreglass cot and sat down by her sister’s side. “It’s a beautiful name. Suits him. He really resembles a little angel.”
She slanted another glance at her youngest nephew. Seen this close to his father, the striking resemblance wouldn’t escape anyone’s notice. Raphael was a replica of Eric, from the blond hair to the clear-cut features. Only the eyes were different, as the baby had Lara’s dark brown irises.
Her thoughts travelled back to another father and son.
Somehow, she couldn’t reconcile with the notion that Josh, who looked so much like Trent, wasn’t his son. And Trent who loved the little boy so much. How could such a man, with such a big heart, and who could adore another man’s child like his own, have done her so much wrong?
“Earth to Dee,” Lara said.
She snapped out of her musings. “Sorry.”
Lara reached for her hand.
“What’s bothering you?” She furrowed her brows. “You’re still worried about telling the children about your relationship?”
Diya averted her face. Time to come clean. She hadn’t told Lara about their breakup, seeing how her sister had been dealing with the unexpected arrival of her baby.
“There’s no need to tell them anything. We broke up,” she said in a small voice.
Lara sat up abruptly, and a low string of curses escaped her tight lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” her sister replied through clenched teeth. “Terrible to move after that C-section. Never thought I’d say this, but thank goodness I had the first two via normal labour. No matter the pain, everything eased up a few hours after delivery.” She paused. “Forget me, though, I’ll get by. What happened? I thou
ght all was going well.”
Diya snorted. “I found him kissing a blonde harlot snob at the mansion.”
Lara’s eyes grew wide. “No!”
“Oh, yes. He even cooked up a mighty sob story when I confronted him.”
“Wow.” Lara shook her head. “Somehow, I cannot believe it. He seemed to really love you.”
“I saw it with my own two eyes, and I couldn’t believe it, either.” She stopped talking when her voice broke on the last word. Angry tears of hurt and betrayal still stung her eyes whenever she thought of that fateful afternoon. Why couldn’t she shake the grip he had on her?
“Dee, you love him, don’t you?”
The softly spoken question made her peer up at the sadness etched on her sister’s pale features. She nodded.
“Then maybe you should give him another chance.”
“Ha! You’re telling me to become his doormat? It’ll rain in Hell before I let this happen.”
Endless seconds ticked by before Lara slowly shook her head. “Suit yourself,” she said in a low, discouraged tone.
Shoot, why did Lara have to make her feel guilty? “Careful, sis. You’re sounding like Mum.”
“If that’s what it takes to put some sense into the silly head of yours, I don’t mind.”
Shoot and shoot again. Her sister was playing the cold and detached Managing Director. Two can play this game, honey.
Diya searched her brain for a fitting reply, but Eric’s voice cut through, and the words died on the threshold of her lips.
“Okay, folks. Visiting time is over for today. Gotta let these two get some rest.”
He walked over to the bedside and placed the sleeping baby in Lara’s arms. Bending down, he exchanged a tender kiss with his wife.
A knife sliced through Diya’s heart. She’d come this close to having something so beautiful and precious, too.
Emilie and Thomas scrambled around on the bed in an effort to hug their mother, and both dropped a loud, wet kiss on the soft bonnet covering the baby’s head. When they slithered to the floor, Diya hugged her sister before kissing her nephew’s tiny, closed fist.
The four of them left the room and made their way towards the parking lot. The children’s excited chatter surrounded them, but she didn’t hear any of the cacophony. She needed something to do, dammit, something to occupy her time. Mentally, she reviewed what she had scheduled for the day. No meeting, no designs, nothing. Just her luck her diary bore blank pages at the precise moment her life had gotten caught in a Class Four cyclone warning.
“What are you doing today?” Eric asked, breaking through her thoughts.
She shrugged. “Nothing, really.”
“Then why don’t you come with us? I promised the children I’d take them to lunch at McDonald’s.”
Lunch with her boisterous niece and nephew seemed like the best time-fill for her day, so she acquiesced with a nod.
However, half an hour later when she sat down at a table in the very yellow surroundings of the fast food outlet, a dark veil settled over her outlook. The disconcerting feeling scrambled into mighty depression when she watched Eric being the considerate father with his children. He settled Thomas in a high chair and unpacked both their Happy Meals. When he realized they’d been given different fuzzy toys, he went back to the counter and exchanged them for the same model, so the two wouldn’t fight.
Trent, too, was a good father. He brought his boys up with a firm hand, but also showered them with love and hugs. Matthew and Josh. Today, they should have become her boys, too ...
“Why are blokes such arseholes?”
Eric paused in the task of keeping Thomas from smearing ketchup all over his tray. “I beg your pardon?”
“Why are guys such idiots?” she asked. “What’s your problem? Is it something in that Y-chromosome?”
He sighed. “Dee, what are you talking about?”
She glared at him. “You know very well.”
“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
Thomas gurgled happily, and she focused her attention onto him. “You, too, Thomas. You’re a guy. One day, you’ll break some poor girl’s heart, and you’ll do many other stupid things, as well.”
The toddler stared at her before giving her a big smile.
“See?” she said. “He’s already doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Being an oaf.”
“Dee, aren’t you being a tad over the top?”
She opened her mouth to answer back, but he did have a point, and weariness got the better of her. Her head heavy, she let it drop until her face touched the table. Counting to ten, she slowly exhaled and lifted her head.
Eric sported a concerned frown on his face. “You have some ketchup on your cheek.”
“Huh?”
He reached over, and with the gentle touch of his thumb, wiped the skin along her jawbone.
The tenderness in the gesture, as well as the caring in his eyes, caused her heart to clench, and she burst into tears, right there in the middle of a busy, lunch-packed restaurant.
He’d reminded her of Trent and his caring ways, and how he used to look after her with protectiveness and a gentleness few men could ever offer.
Goodness gracious, how had she been reduced to such a mess? Lifting her head, she saw him watching her with furrowed brows and a tightened jaw.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s okay.” He handed her a tissue. “Now dry your tears, blow your nose, take a deep breath, and tell me what all this is about.”
She took the offered tissue and dabbed at her face.
Emilie yanked at her father’s sleeve. “Can I go play in the maze now, Papa?”
“Sure, go ahead. Be careful, though,” he replied.
The little girl shot from her chair and disappeared in the colourful play area in the corner of the floor.
The interruption gave Diya time to gather her thoughts. What a scene she must’ve caused. However, Eric didn’t seem to mind. In a way, his reaction reminded her of her father’s whenever she’d thrown a fit or a tantrum. Was it their doctor’s training that gave them such patience and control?
“How come you’re so unfazed by my outburst?”
A grin etched on his face. “I’m married to your sister, remember?”
“Oh.” And her father was married to her mother. Which explained a lot. Shoot, were all the women in her family nutters?
“So, what’s this all about?” he asked.
Somehow, even she didn’t know. Diya did a small mental calculation, and the answer popped up. If she had the dates right, she hung at the very bottom arc of a PMS swing. “Hormones.”
“Meaning trouble with men,” Eric said with a raised brow.
Shoot. How could he read her so well every time?
“I’m a good listener,” he said in a calm voice.
“Yes, you are.”
How many times had she unburdened her heart on his shoulder? How many times had he allowed her to vent her frustration in his ear? Eric was the big brother she’d never had, and a wave of affection rushed over her as she reached out and clasped his hand.
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“How about the beginning?”
The beginning. Her mind travelled back to her first meeting with Trent. As the images flashed by, she started talking. She told him everything about Trent, the boys, Gareth. He tightened his grip on her fingers when she came to the part about the assault on her, but he let her continue.
Finally, she reached the incident with the blonde at the mansion, and she stopped after recounting their parting.
“So, what do you think I should do?” she asked.
He heaved a heavy sigh, before running a hand over his face and in his hair. “I don’t know, Dee.”
She bit her lower lip. “Lara thinks I should give him another chance if I love him.”
“Do you want to listen to her?”
<
br /> “I don’t know. This is why I’m in dire need of advice.”
After placing his forearms on the table, he leaned his head closer to hers. “What advice would you give to someone in this position?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Listen, Dee, this much I know.” He paused, his deep blue eyes plunging into hers. “It’s your life. This decision concerns you, and you alone.”
His voice thrummed low, but she heard a steely edge in it, something that sounded very much like conviction.
“I don’t get it, though.”
“If you listen to everyone’s advice, you’ll be making this decision according to them. Not according to you. Listen to your own inner voice, Dee, and then, you’ll never go wrong.”
The power contained in his words shook her.
“My inner voice seems to have deserted me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It never leaves you. You’re just choosing to ignore it.”
Wham. What more could she reply to that?
***
Trent stood with his back pressed to the Saab as he waited in the parking lot of the school. Any minute, the bus bringing the children back from their camping trip would arrive, and he’d see his boys again.
He missed them, but even more so because after Diya’s departure, a numb, dull echo reverberated in the sudden quiet that had descended on his life.
He still couldn’t believe she’d left. How had it happened?
But a part of him knew—he’d played his cards too close to his chest, and the game had backfired, in the end. Yet, how could he have anticipated Camilla bursting into his life again? How could he have worked out that fate had Gareth Clark in store for him in Mauritius?
He’d been right on one point, though. It had been Gareth who’d told Camilla where to find him. He should’ve known the “don’t say I didn’t warn you” would spell doom and disaster. Gareth had gotten in touch with Camilla out of the blue, and the rest had become history.
Their history.
He’d extracted the confession from his childhood friend after Diya had left. He’d stormed into the house to find her lounging on his bed. In the rage shrouding his perception, he hadn’t had time to bother with her tears and her cries that he was hurting her. He’d dug his hands into the flesh of her naked arms and had all but shaken her like a rag doll.