‘She’s a good woman—and you’re a good man, Jake. A very good man. You’ve always been good to her, but to take on this commitment—’
‘We’ve already got a huge commitment, Jean. Our entire careers are now locked together. We’re just extending that to our domestic situation.’
Jean sighed. ‘But you’re still young, and you’re talking about a legal arrangement. Is that really what you want?’
‘What more could I want? She’s the kindest, fairest, most generous person I know. She’s also without exception the biggest nag, but I can live with that.’
Jean smiled slightly, but she wasn’t fooled. ‘Yes, of course you can, because you love her. I can see it in the way you look at her when she’s not watching you. Peter never did that. I know he was my son, and I don’t want you to think I’m being disloyal, I’m not, I just knew him very well, but Peter leant on her very hard, and she let him, but I had hoped that now she was free she might find real happiness with someone who genuinely loves her for herself, and not for what she could do for them, but that’s what she’s doing. She’s doing it all over again.’
He stared at Jean, shocked. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing? Using her?’
‘No. I know you’re not, and she’s not using you, although you’re using each other, I suppose, but—Jake, does she know how much you love her?’
‘Yes, of course she does. I tell her that all the time.’
‘But not in the right way. Not in that way. She needs to know, Jake. You owe it to her and to yourself to tell her.’
He looked away, his eyes tracking back to Emily and the children, his throat filling with emotion.
‘She’s happy, Jean. Look at her—you can see she’s happy. And it’s enough for us. I don’t believe in happy ever after anymore. I’m not sure I ever did, and I’m certain Emily doesn’t—’
‘Are you? Are you really?’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘Don’t close the door to love, Jake. It comes in many guises, and she loves you, too, you know.’
‘Not in that way.’ He swallowed and glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, we’re going to have to leave you or we won’t get back for the children’s supper time and they’ve had a busy day.’
‘You could feed them here before you go,’ Jean said hopefully, but he shook his head.
‘No, they’ll just fall asleep in the car and then they won’t go to bed when we get them home. I’m sorry to cut it short. We’ll come for longer next time, maybe stay the night if that’s OK with you? I know Em would like to.’
‘Oh, that would be lovely—and if you wanted to go out, you know, for dinner or something, we could always have them both for a sleepover. Any time you like.’
‘Do you really mean that? Because if you do, we’re going to the hospital summer ball this time next week and we haven’t arranged a babysitter yet.’
‘Perfect! Drop them off on Saturday and pick them up on Sunday. It’ll be a joy to have the children, and you’ll have a wonderful time! I used to love summer balls. They’re always such fun, and the music will get everyone up and dancing.’
Dancing. Damn. He’d forgotten about the dancing. It had got him into trouble at Kat’s wedding, but the last time he’d danced with Em had been at her own wedding. Pete hadn’t been well enough, but Jake had dragged her onto the dance floor and tried to help her forget that she’d just committed her life to a dead man walking.
So long ago, so much water under the bridge, but he’d never forgotten holding her as she swayed against him to the music, and it dawned on him too late exactly what he’d let himself in for.
As if this whole thing wasn’t tough enough already, but there was one thing he knew for certain.
He couldn’t tell Emily how much he loved her, because it would trash their finely balanced status quo and destroy everything they’d worked for. He’d just have to keep quiet, do a better job of hiding it and carry on as before.
He’d already hidden it for years. How much harder could it be?
CHAPTER NINE
‘I DIDN’T REALISE you’d asked Jean if they’d have the children next weekend,’ Em said as they drove away.
‘I didn’t. She offered to babysit, said it would be nice to have them for a sleepover if we wanted to go out anytime, so I asked her about the ball, and she jumped at it.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Really? Well, that’s a relief. I was wondering who we could ask, because I’m sure all the willing nursery staff will already have been booked, and I don’t know anybody else.’
‘That’s what I thought, and I would never have suggested it if she hadn’t sounded so keen to have them.’
She would be, of course. They missed Pete, and Jean had been angling to have his mini-me to stay for ages, but she’d never needed to take them up on it. But with Matilda as well?
‘What about Tilly? Are you sure she’s ready for it?’
He laughed. ‘I’m sure she is, she’ll love it. They’ll spoil her rotten, and anyway, Jean offered and I didn’t want to hurt her by refusing, and it gets us out of a hole.’
It also took away any excuse for not going to the ball, and Em felt a frisson of—what? Anticipation? Dread? Both, probably. She hadn’t danced since her wedding, and apart from a very gentle sway with Pete, she’d only danced with Jake then, and she’d never forgotten the feel of his arms around her, his body so in tune with hers.
Was then when she’d realised how much she loved him?
Or was it just because she’d had way too much champagne to drown out the reality of what she’d done?
Then Jake’s phone pinged, and he handed it to her.
‘It’s bound to be work. Can you see who it is, please?’
He told her the code—Zach’s birthday, which left her feeling slightly odd. ‘Nick Jarvis. Brie’s been admitted—her membranes are leaking.’
He swore softly. ‘How many weeks is she now?’
Em thought for a moment. ‘Thirty-three today? Or yesterday? We’ve kept her going for four weeks, at least.’
‘More than that. She was only sixteen weeks when I first saw her and without intervention she would have lost it then, so that’s at least seventeen weeks, so that’s pretty good. I’ll go in and see her when we get back, if that’s OK?’
* * *
He kept her going another three days, but then on Tuesday morning at five he had a call to say she was in established labour, so he told Em and went in, arriving just in time for the birth of Brie’s small but healthy baby.
He rang Em at six forty-two. ‘It’s a girl, four pounds, perfect little thing. She’s absolutely gorgeous and Brie and her husband are over the moon—’ He broke off, feeling a little choked. ‘She’s going up to SCBU in a minute, but they’re just having a cuddle first and everything looks fine. I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Oh, I do, I’m so pleased! Give her my love and tell her well done and I’ll come and see her tomorrow.’
He passed the message on, then went down to the café, got a takeaway coffee and a bacon roll and went back to work, still smiling at the outcome of what had been an uncertain and eventful pregnancy.
But they’d done it, they’d kept the baby where she belonged as long as possible, and it was all going to be all right.
* * *
The coffee group met at Daisy’s that day, and predictably they were all agog about the engagement.
‘Where’s the ring?’ Kate asked, and she just laughed it off.
‘It’s only just happened, we haven’t had time and anyway, that sort of thing doesn’t matter.’
Of course it mattered, no matter how much she told herself it didn’t, but she kept that to herself, just another one of the lies she’d told them, and the talk soon switched to the ball on Saturday and what everyone was wearing, and she listened in mounting dismay.
‘I haven’t got a thing to wear,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing suitable, anyway. It sounds really dressy.’
‘It is,’ Daisy confirmed. ‘Why don’t you go to the boutique at the bottom of the hill just above the prom? It’s brilliant. They had some gorgeous dresses in there the other day. In fact, why don’t you leave the children here with us and go now?’ she suggested.
‘Really?’
‘Really. Take the shoes you were wearing the other night, and knickers that don’t give you VPL, and your best bra, and go for it.’
‘Yes, go on, and bring it back here when you’ve found it. We all want to see.’
‘No pressure, then,’ she said with a laugh, but nevertheless she went, dropping into the house en route to grab the shoes and decent undies.
‘I need a dress for a ball on Saturday,’ she said, trying not to feel too frumpish next to the glamorous lady behind the counter.
‘Are you Emily?’ she asked with a beaming smile. ‘I’ve had Daisy on the phone, she told me to expect you. Let’s have a look, I might have just the thing. Did you bring your shoes?’
* * *
She got Jake to hang the dress from the curtain pole in her bedroom when he got home from work. It was the only place high enough, and she’d tried to reach by standing on the chest of drawers, but it was too far away.
‘Wow, that’s glam,’ he said as he hung it up for her, and she laughed a little awkwardly.
‘Yes, it is, so you’d better up your game, Stratton,’ she quipped. ‘I don’t want to show you up.’
He rolled his eyes and left her to it, and on Saturday evening he lifted it down again and laid it on her bed.
The children were safely installed at the Cardews’, and for the first time they were alone together in the house and it felt weird, as if the safety net that had hovered under them had been whipped away, leaving them dangling over an abyss.
She showered, dried her hair and at the last minute decided not to straighten it as usual but to run the curling tongs through it and pile it up as she had last week.
She applied her make-up with more care than normal, but her fingers were shaking and she splodged the mascara and had to blot it off with a cotton bud. Crazy. Her insides felt as if a zillion butterflies were having a party, and she stepped into the dress, pulled it up over her shoulders and then called Jake.
‘Can you do the zip up, please?’ she asked, turning her back to the door, and she heard the slight hiss of his indrawn breath as he came in, then felt the touch of his fingers, warm and—trembling?
‘There. All done. Anything else?’
‘No, that’s all. How about your bow tie?’ she asked, turning back to face him and catching a strange look on his face.
‘It’s fine. I gave up with the knots and bought a fake one. The cab’ll be here in five minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’
* * *
She looked stunning.
Even more beautiful than she’d looked on her wedding day, and probably nearly as nervous, for some reason. He helped her out of the cab and squeezed her hand.
‘Hey, come on, it’s just a party. Let’s go and find the others.’
They spotted Ben and Daisy standing with Ed and Annie and Sam and Kate, and soon Nick and Liv joined them, then James and Connie, and they went and found their table for dinner.
He’d been hoping they’d be split up at the table but whoever had been in charge had seated them with their partners, so throughout the meal his senses were bombarded with the sound, the scent, the warmth of her beside him. Her perfume curled around him, her laugh made him want to smile, and every now and then their bodies brushed against each other—a leg, an arm, her shoulder as she leant back against him and took a selfie.
‘Another one for the album,’ she murmured, her breath teasing against his skin, and he found a smile and turned back to Liv, just as the MC announced the start of the auction.
At least that gave him something to concentrate on apart from her, but in no time at all it was done, the band struck up and the lights went down.
‘Right, come on, everybody, let’s have you on the dance floor,’ Ben said, getting to his feet, but Emily looked oddly uncomfortable.
‘Do you really want to?’ she murmured, but Ben was having none of it, so they ended up on the crowded dance floor with all the others.
Which was fine while the beat was pumping, and there were all the usual songs to get everyone going, like ‘YMCA’, and he had to watch Emily waving her arms above her head and laughing when she got it wrong, which she did, repeatedly.
And then the tempo slowed, and she turned towards him and met his eyes and he was lost.
* * *
He opened his arms, she moved into them and his right arm closed around her. She could feel his hand against her back, his fingers touching her skin in the deep V above the zip. His other hand found hers and held it lightly, his fingers warm and firm and reassuring, and she moved with him, their bodies closing in on each other as if they were made to fit together.
His shoulder was just there, broad and inviting, and she rested her head against it and let the music flow through her, cherishing this moment, this rare opportunity to hold him, to feel his body against hers, his heartbeat under her ear, the solid warmth of his body so right against hers.
Except it wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted, and if she had any sense she’d step away before she made a fool of herself.
* * *
The song changed, the mood romantic, the air heavy with the sensual words, and as he turned his head and bent it a fraction to suggest that they sit this one out, her head lifted and her eyes locked with his and blood roared through his body, deafening him to everything but his need for her.
They were right back where they’d been fifteen years or more ago after Kat’s wedding, only they weren’t in Brighton, and Pete wasn’t going to be sending her a text to bring them to their senses. They were going home together to an empty house, and if he didn’t pour cold water on this right now it was all going to go to hell.
He had to step away, to get off the dance floor and call a halt to this, but her eyes held him like a spell, and he was powerless.
‘Em,’ he breathed raggedly, and then his lips touched hers and he was a goner.
‘Get a room, you two,’ Ben laughed from behind him, and it broke the spell and he pulled away.
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough.’
They picked up his jacket, her bag, her wrap, and headed for the door, a careful space between them as they went out into the foyer of the hotel.
‘Can you walk in those shoes or shall I call a cab?’ he asked, his voice gruff, but it was a miracle he could speak at all, and he was relieved when she shook her head and said she could walk.
Thank heavens for that. There was no way he wanted to hang around for a cab at almost midnight on a Saturday night, and maybe a brisk walk home would settle this blaze that was ripping through him like a wildfire.
But as they walked back into the house and he closed the door behind them a few minutes later, all he was aware of was the emptiness of the house closing around them like a prison cell.
They were entirely alone, no one to save them from this madness. No Pete to send Emily a text, no Zach to cry out, no little Tilly to appear at the top of the stairs and demand another story, or make him sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ for the fourth time.
‘Do you want a drink?’ Em asked him, but he shook his head.
‘No, I’ve got work to do. I’ll just change out of this lot and I’ll sort myself out.’
He ran upstairs, and the landing light slanted across her room and fell on Pete’s face. Jean’s words came back to him, the fact that Pete had leant on Emily, that he’d never loved her as she’d deserved to be loved.
Had she loved P
ete? Or had she really just married him out of kindness? And was he about to use her in the same way Pete had?
He went into his room and closed the door, turning the key and throwing his jacket down on the chair, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt—and then he heard the door handle rattle.
‘Jake? Jake, let me in.’
‘No.’
‘Jake? Please don’t do this. Please talk to me.’
‘No. You’ve been drinking, Emily, and so have I, and I’m not doing this again. Just for God’s sake leave it and go to bed.’
He held his breath then, heard the faint rattle of the handle as she let it go, then the creak of a board, the soft click of her bedroom door closing.
And then, moments later, the sound of a muffled sob that tore his heart in two.
He went out, crossed the landing to her room, rested his hand on the door, his palm flat against the wood, and cursed himself for hurting her, for doing this again, for letting the music and the atmosphere reel him in just as it had before fifteen years ago.
Jean had told him to tell Em that he loved her, but he didn’t dare. Not tonight, when their emotions were running so high, when so much was riding on it.
He’d tell her tomorrow, when they were both sober and he’d had time to work out what to say. Not that he’d had much to drink. Hardly anything, because he’d wanted to make sure he stayed in control, but he hadn’t, had he, and neither had Em, but he’d pretty much accused her of being drunk and sent her away in the only way he knew how, and now she was breaking her heart.
He hadn’t wanted to do that to her. He’d never meant to hurt her, not now, not ever—but he had, and maybe more than once. He rested his head against his hand on her door, and felt something wet fall on his wrist.
Tears.
Tears that were refusing to stay unshed, sobs that were rising in his throat and tearing it apart.
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