An ice cube slid down Dex’s spine.
Koru banged the milk jug furiously on the table and turned off the coffee machine. “I’ll be right over.” He clipped his phone shut.
Dex stood. “What’s going on?”
“That was Lily. Your ex showed up at the house. Lily let her in—she didn’t realise who she was. The fucking bitch told her she was a friend of yours.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure, but Honey’s had a meltdown.” Koru grabbed his keys. “I’ll just tell Dad.”
Dex stood there, boiling with frustration and desperation as Koru marched into the kitchen to tell his father. Cam gave a loud expletive and then the men came through the door.
“Lock up behind us,” Cam said curtly to his son.
They went out and Koru locked the shop. Cam turned to Dex, anger written all over his face. “You’d best stay here,” he said. “We’ll go home and try to sort things out.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“I think it best if—”
“I’m coming with you,” Dex said again. “It’s my fiancée and it’s my ex who’s upset her. I need to get this sorted.”
Cam stared him, then nodded.
“I’ll go in my car and meet you there.” Dex walked off.
He’d never known a journey to take so long in his life. All the way to Stormwind, his heart pounded and he felt close to throwing up. What had Cathryn said to her? She would have told Honey about the kiss, obviously. Was that all, or had she said other cruel things?
He pounded the steering wheel, nearly veering off the road in the process—not good when he was driving a cop car still in uniform. But at that moment, he could happily have taken Cathryn’s neck in his hands and squeezed until she stopped breathing. Hatred welled inside him, clear and pure. She’s ill, people had said to him at the time, not quite right in the head. You should feel sorry for her.
Like fuck he should. He was done feeling sorry.
He shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on Cathryn now. His first priority had to be Honey, and how to put things right with her.
He refused to accept that he couldn’t put things right. Somehow, he’d make her understand how much he loved her.
Eventually, after what seemed like forever, he pulled up at the house. Cam and Koru slid into the parking spot beside him. Lily’s car sat in the drive next to Honey’s. Honey’s car had a smashed windscreen. Dex swallowed, hoping she hadn’t been hurt.
They got out and ran into the house. Lily stood in the centre of the living room. Always pale, now she looked as white as a sheet of paper, her eyes wide with worry as her father and brother walked in.
“Where is she?” Dex demanded as he came in behind them.
Lily’s gaze slid to him and her eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Where is she?” Cam echoed.
“She’s locked herself in the downstairs bathroom.”
Dex twitched to walk there but Koru grabbed his arm. “Just wait a minute.”
Cam went out of the room and along the corridor. Dex heard him knock on the door.
“Honey?” Cam called. “It’s Dad.”
Dex could just hear her murmur something.
“I’m not going away. Come out please, we need to talk.”
Another murmur.
“Come out and talk like a grown up, please. Koru’s here and so’s Dex.”
This time there was no murmur. Dex walked slowly to the doorway and looked along the corridor to where Cam leaned against the doorjamb.
“Come on, sweetheart, come out.” Cam folded his arms, head bowed. “Nothing’s happened that we can’t get over together.”
“Leave me alone.” This time Dex heard her words.
“Dex is here and he wants to see you,” Cam said. “He loves you, sweetheart, and he’s sorry.”
“Tell him to fuck off.”
Dex closed his eyes.
“Honey, come on,” Cam urged. “You’re not twelve anymore. Come out.”
“I want some time to myself. Just go away.”
“Please come out and just talk to Dex. He’s your fiancé and you’re getting married on Saturday—you need to talk to him.”
Honey murmured something that Dex didn’t catch. Cam sighed and looked over at him.
“What did she say?” Dex asked.
“She said ‘The wedding’s off.’”
Chapter Twenty-One
Honey could hear her father talking to Dex along the corridor. She knew Dex would try to talk to her and convince her to come out. Couldn’t they see she wanted some time alone? She needed to think, to work through the tangled wool of her brain and get things clear.
Pushing herself to her feet, she stood on the toilet seat and opened the bathroom window. Luckily she was wearing trousers. She pulled herself up and over the ledge, held onto the palm tree outside the window and managed to manoeuvre herself down onto the grass. It would take them a while to figure out she wasn’t in there.
She ran soundlessly across the lawn behind the house to the copse of trees at the bottom, then followed the river to the bush forming the Waitangi Forest that lay at the foot of their property. The palms and ferns closed around her, welcoming her into their quiet world, enveloping her in the fresh, earthy smell of nature.
For a while she just walked, staying close to the river so she didn’t get lost, accompanied by flittering fantails hopping from tree to tree, tui birds calling from the high palms, and once even a weta, the huge cricket-like insect—big as her hand—waving its long antennae at her as she passed.
Eventually, she reached the waterfall that tumbled over the rocks, the water dark green in the fading light. There she sank down with her back against a palm and waited for the expected rush of emotion to overtake her.
Strangely, though, the tears didn’t come. Instead, all she felt was a kind of dull acceptance. She’d gone through the five stages of grief, she thought absently—she’d tried to deny it to herself. Grown angry that Dex had told Cathryn intimate details about their relationship. Tried to come to a compromise in her head once she realised it was the truth—maybe it didn’t matter, they could still get over it. Got depressed when she knew that wasn’t going to happen. And now there was nothing to do but come to terms with the fact that the marriage wasn’t going take place. She’d lost him, or he’d lost her. Whichever, they were done.
Maybe I’m not supposed to be happy, she thought. Maybe Fate didn’t have happy families and babies in store for her. She crossed her arms over her stomach and hugged herself tightly, trying to accept that, but the deep longing inside her wouldn’t go away. She was only twenty-five, but the maternal urge had risen strongly in her since she’d met Dex. Yes, of course, she wanted him desperately, but she also wanted the whole package—hearth and home, and children—lots of them. They’d spoken about it, and Dex had been happy to agree to the idea of a large family. And now she’d lost everything.
She pulled her legs close to her, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Of course, there was every chance she’d meet someone else. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Dex had been her one chance at happiness.
In the pocket of her pants, her mobile buzzed. She’d forgotten she still had it on her. She’d put it on silent while in the courthouse and hadn’t yet switched it back.
She took it out and examined the text. It was from her father. They must have realised she’d climbed out of the window.
Just let me know you’re safe.
Her throat tightened. Cam worried so about her. He probably thought she was hanging from a tree somewhere. She texted back, I’m fine. Need time to think. Back later. Then she switched the phone off.
The forest was beginning to darken as the sun set, but the moon was just off full and would give enough light to see by. Honey wasn’t worried. In England she’d often gone walking in the dark in the nearby forest, and the creatures of the bush didn’t f
righten her. She rather hoped she’d see a kiwi bird. She’d been to Auckland Zoo and peered into the little houses at them, but she’d not yet seen one in the wild.
The bush rustled a few feet from her and she turned her head tiredly to see what had made the noise. It was a possum, round and furry and cute, its eyes wide and shining in the semi-darkness. It studied her for a moment and then bounded away into the undergrowth.
She closed her eyes. What would she say to Dex when she saw him? And what would he say to her? Would he be apologetic? Angry? Would he cry? She thought she might slap him, too, if he did that. Would he be impatient that she was making such a fuss? Ian would have been. Would have turned it on her, made her feel it was all her fault, that she was overreacting, being too emotional. In the end, she would have been the one to apologise, her head spinning as she wondered how that could possibly have happened.
The bush rustled again to her left. Louder this time. Feet scrunched on twigs and leaves. She sighed and opened her eyes, wondering who’d found her and wishing they’d leave her alone. Then the ferns parted. The first thing she saw was his blue uniform.
Dex stopped in his tracks and for a moment they just studied each other. Honey’s heart pounded. He looked gorgeous and wild at the same time—his hair stuck up as if he’d raked his hands through it several times, and his eyes were wide with fear. As he saw she was all right, though, the fear faded, and he let out a long, slow breath.
Would he demand she get up and accompany him back? Berate her for worrying them all?
He did neither, though. He walked over and sank down onto the ground next to her, back against a rock, his upper arm brushing hers.
Honey’s heart continued to hammer. Inside, she whirled with emotions. But it didn’t escape her that overriding them all was relief.
He took out his mobile and sent a quick text. As he tucked it back into the pocket of his jacket, he glanced over at her. “Sorry. Just letting your dad know I’ve got you.”
A shiver ran down her back. Dex always did that to her. Spoke with the tiniest hint of possessiveness, as if he wanted everyone to know she was his.
“Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he unbuttoned his jacket, slipped it off and placed it around her shoulders.
“Thank you.” She pulled it close, nestling into the thick material. It smelled of him—of warm male, with a hint of his aftershave. It was almost as good as having his arms around her.
There was something bulky in the top pocket, and she undid the button and pulled it out. It was a small bottle of Irish whiskey. “What the hell?”
“I stole it from Cam’s cupboard,” Dex said. “Thought you might need it.”
She studied it for a moment, then undid the top. The sweet, strong smell hit her nostrils, and she placed her lips over the rim, tipped it up and swallowed a large mouthful. It made her cough and the liquid seared all the way to her stomach, but it warmed her right through.
She passed the bottle to him, and he took a swig before passing it back.
They sat silently for a while, listening to the sound of the river chasing itself over the rocks and the low hoot of a morepork celebrating the rising of the moon. Occasionally, they took swigs of the whiskey in turn. He made no move to touch her, and she was glad, because she didn’t want to have to push him away.
Eventually, as her tension eased, she said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He rolled his head on the rock to look at her. He looked sad, defeated. “I don’t know where to start. With I’m sorry, I suppose, because I am, more than you can ever know. But that doesn’t come near to making things right.”
“No.” It did help, though, that he was sorry. Ian would never have said he was sorry.
“Do you want me to explain what happened?” he asked.
She sighed. Did she want to hear all the gory details? About how he’d stuck his tongue so far down Cathryn’s throat he could have tasted her tonsils? “Not really.”
“It didn’t mean anything, Honey. I know that’s what men always say and it’s a stupid comment because of course it’s not meaningless to you. But it wasn’t a loving kiss. I was angry and frustrated. It wasn’t a nice kiss. I wasn’t nice to her. I don’t think I’ve ever been nice to her.”
Honey sat quietly, thinking about his words. What could she say in reply to that? That it didn’t matter? Because of course it did—the thought of Dex—her Dex—kissing another woman speared her through the heart every time she thought about it.
“The thing is,” she said softly, “it’s not really about the kiss. I know you might not believe me, but actually I kind of understand. I thought about what might have happened if it had been Ian who had turned up on my doorstep, wanting me back. Of course I wouldn’t want that—I don’t want the bastard within a continent of me ever again. But if he was here, standing in front of me… I know what it’s like, how a person can have a hold over you.”
She took a swallow from the bottle, winced, then passed it to Dex. He took another mouthful and passed it back. She examined the label as she continued. “I had to go through it all again today—at the court house.”
“Oh shit of course, how did it go?”
She shrugged. “We found the woman guilty. I held out as long as I could, but ultimately it was eleven to one, and if I’d refused to change my vote we would have had a hung jury and the poor woman would have had to go through it all again. I feel bad about it, but it’s done now.” She picked at the label on the bottle, trying not to think about the defeat on Sarah Green’s face.
“Anyway,” she continued, “As I said, it’s not really about the kiss, or even about Cathryn at all really. I don’t believe you love her. It’s more about what she said. I suppose all she did was confirm the worry that’s been circling in my head for a while.”
“What worry?”
“That I’m not enough for you,” she said, glad when he didn’t brush her words away with platitudes.
Instead, he said, “What do you mean, not enough?”
She turned against the tree to face him. His eyes, usually the same colour as his cornflower blue shirt, had darkened to navy in the fading light.
She didn’t know where this was heading, or even what was going to come out of her mouth. But suddenly it felt important to get to the bottom of things. It was as if they’d spent the past six months growing flowers in a beautiful garden, but finally they were going to dig down into the soil and discover the whole secret world that lived beneath the surface.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dex watched as Honey paused to gather her thoughts. Without his jacket, the cool evening air caused goose bumps to rise on his flesh beneath his shirt and the rough rock behind him dug painfully into his back. But he didn’t care. He would have sat there for a thousand years if it meant he had a chance of getting Honey back.
He’d never felt anything like the relief that had flooded him when he’d found her sitting there. Surprisingly, Cam had not been worried to find she’d escaped out of the bathroom window. He’d just sighed and said, “She’ll come back, when she’s ready.” When Dex had protested, Cam had reminded him, “She’s twenty-five, not fifteen. She’s a grown woman, and if she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, that’s her right. She knows where we are, when she’s ready to talk.”
But Dex couldn’t bear the thought of her sitting in the dark on her own somewhere, trying to deal with God knew what horrors Cathryn had thrown at her. He would have combed the bush all night to find her.
She unscrewed the bottle top and took another tiny sip of the whiskey, following it with the delicate wince that amused him every time before passing him the bottle. He took a mouthful, reminding himself that if he carried on like this he wouldn’t be able to drive home, and passed it back to her. She screwed the top on carefully. The moonlight that coated the bush around them, turning it into real silver fern, painted her nose and the apples of her cheeks with pure silvery-white. She looked like a Greek statue, et
hereal and sad, and it made him catch his breath.
“Marriage is for an awfully long time,” she said finally. “I mean, I know you can get divorced if it doesn’t work out, but it doesn’t seem great to go into it thinking like that. ‘Till death parts us,’ is what we’ll have to say, and it seems to me you have to be pretty certain of each other to make that commitment.”
“I’m certain,” he said, but she waved the words away.
“You proposed to me very soon after we’d met. And I said yes. And since then the outcome hasn’t been in question. But I don’t think either of us has really sat down and thought about what it means, and if we’re right for each other.”
“I’m certain,” he said again, meaning it.
She gave him an exasperated look. “I’m serious, Dex. I’m not looking for false flattery or glibness here. This isn’t Regency England—it’s not an arranged marriage. A little compatibility is sought for before couples get together now. And we didn’t know a thing about each other at the beginning. We made the decision based on a kind of desperation, a hope that things couldn’t possibly be as bad as they had been for both of us in the past. For me, certainly, I saw you—a policeman with a strong sense of justice—as a kind of hero. I put you on a pedestal—I know that.”
“I like being someone’s hero,” he said.
Her lips curved wryly. “And you saw me as some sort of innocent angel who’d wash away your sins. Don’t deny it, Dex—I know it’s true.”
“I’m not denying it. It is true. And I still believe it.”
“I’m not an angel—nowhere near it.” Frustration furrowed her brow. “I’m very much an ordinary mortal with tons of foibles and weaknesses.”
“I guess that makes two of us then.”
“Dex… Do you see what I’m saying? Being with me doesn’t make you into a different person, any more than being with you makes me different. Our past doesn’t dissolve when we’re together—we just paper over the cracks.”
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