The Art of Keeping Secrets

Home > Other > The Art of Keeping Secrets > Page 26
The Art of Keeping Secrets Page 26

by Rachael Johns

‘Huh?’ His brow furrowed in confusion.

  She pressed the heel of her hand on her forehead, wishing she was the type who thought before she spoke. ‘What I mean is… I’m sorry about running off on you like that.’ Although they’d still been fully clothed, she’d felt his erection pressing against her and it wasn’t nice to leave a man in such a state. ‘It was nothing you did. You were lovely and I really enjoyed chatting and catching up with you, but… but I’m not ready for more with anyone else yet. I’m still in love with my husband and, well, we might split up, I don’t know, but … I … It wasn’t fair to lead you on like that. You have every right to be angry.’

  Jeremy listened patiently, then nodded and placed his hand reassuringly on her arm. It felt warm, but in the light of day her skin no longer sparked at his touch.

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I’ve been through a separation myself, remember? It’s confusing and depressing and we all cope in whatever way we can. I can’t lie … I’d have loved to take things further with you the other night, but I’d rather you stopped like you did, than regret it later.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, kind of happy that her brief moment of insanity happened with someone like Jeremy, not some random bloke in a bar who mightn’t have taken her rejection so well.

  He dropped his hand to his side and smiled warmly. ‘It was great seeing you again, Felicity. Look after yourself. If your situation changes and you feel like looking me up when you’re ready … I’m on Facebook.’

  ‘Thank God for Facebook, hey?’ She forced a chuckle.

  ‘Indeed. Good luck.’ And with that he turned and climbed into the next cab.

  Flick waved as the car drove off and then walked back to her friends, who looked to have been watching the interaction with interest.

  ‘He’s quite good-looking,’ Emma conceded. ‘I can see why you were tempted. Now, Museum of Sex?’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Genevieve

  ‘Inhale, exhale,’ Neve whispered to herself as she followed the directions on her phone’s maps app to a little café not far from the Broadway precinct where she’d arranged to meet James for breakfast. He’d been busy yesterday but had sounded as eager to see her again as she’d professed to being.

  Thing was, her eagerness was a big fat lie.

  The cement sidewalk beneath her feet may as well have been an ocean the way her stomach lurched right now. Concentrating on her breathing, she placed a hand against her belly. If only there were some kind of pill she could take to eradicate this sensation, this feeling as if she were about to jump off one of the many skyscrapers that surrounded them. She hadn’t slept all night, her thoughts alternating between worrying about what to wear for this important rendezvous and rehearsing her speech—not that she had any idea what to actually say. Despite all this, a tiny part of her had been glad to farewell Flick and Emma and escape for a while.

  All yesterday Emma had been hell-bent on exploring as much of New York as they possibly could. In theory, Neve agreed with this sentiment—keeping busy to keep their minds off the crap—but they weren’t teenagers anymore and her feet ached from sightseeing all day.

  Granted, the Museum of Sex had been eye-opening and they’d learnt a number of useless but interesting facts, such as that a duck’s penis grew to twenty centimetres long when erect. They’d giggled like schoolgirls at this and professed thankfulness that none of them had been born a duck. Neve hadn’t laughed so much in a long time and Flick and Emma had needed this release as much as she had.

  Between the duck’s penis, the sepia photographs of carnal acts in the 1800s and the ‘interactive floor’ that was more freaky than entertaining, they’d almost forgotten their worries for a few hours. At least that’s how Neve had felt. But nothing could put off the inevitable—no matter what alarming secrets Flick divulged or scary illnesses Emma might have, she needed to face her own demons.

  Neve took a long, deep breath and pushed open the door of the hip café James had recommended. Aromas of coffee, sugar and cinnamon filled the air as she stepped inside. Usually these smells would be welcome but she could only think of James and the conversation that must be had. The scariest, most important conversation of her life. And there was Will to think of—if she cocked this up, she could ruin her son’s biggest dream as well.

  The thought of Will was the only thing that made her step further into the café and scan the tables for James. He wasn’t here yet. Her chest tightened and she sucked in another breath.

  ‘Looking for me?’ came a voice from behind her, followed by the heat of a warm, hard body against her own. The woody, masculine scent of him annihilated every other smell in the café. Her resolve wavered as he whispered seductively into her ear. ‘I’ve been thinking of nothing but you the past couple of days.’

  Oh shite, she thought as he spun her round and pulled her against him, planting his lips on hers and kissing her in the way every woman should be kissed every single day. Pleasure flooded her body, her limbs loosening as desire curled inside her. Heedless of their audience, James slid his hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pressing their bodies closer together so that she’d have to have been dead not to notice how happy he was to see her. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue into her mouth and deepening their kiss. If they’d not been in a public place she had no doubt where this would end.

  But no! Will’s anxious, eager face appeared in her head. This cannot happen. She could not let it happen again.

  She slid her hands up onto his chest, tore her mouth from his and pushed firmly against him. Their eyes met, a frown furrowing his brow and confusion in his gaze.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she whispered.

  ‘O-kay.’ He sounded uncertain. ‘Shall I order us coffee?’

  She nodded. ‘Thanks, that would be great. I’ll grab a table.’

  As James spoke to a waitress at the counter, Neve slid into a booth, her knees knocking together as she did so. When he returned, his smile was no longer as wide as it had been when he’d first arrived. He dithered a moment as if deciding whether to sit beside her in the booth or across the table. She breathed a sigh of relief when he chose to sit opposite.

  ‘So,’ he said, planting his elbows on the table and looking at her as if they were the strangers they’d been for years. ‘You lied about not being married? Is that it?’

  She shook her head—how ironic that would have been. ‘No, of course not.’

  Although I have lied. But was lying by omission technically lying? Feeling as if she might faint, or vomit, or have a heart attack—possibly all three—she glanced towards the door, counting the tables between herself and the exit, much like the flight attendants told you to do on an aeroplane. In the event of an emergency…

  ‘What do you want to talk about then?’ he asked and she’d almost have preferred to be in a plane crash than tell him.

  ‘Our son,’ she blurted.

  The colour drained from his face, his stance grew rigid and his eyes bulged.

  Neve froze—so much for running—and cursed herself for her appalling delivery of this news. But then again, was there any good way to tell a man he had a teenaged son? It was a little late to show him the positive pregnancy test.

  The silence dragged until finally James shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, did you just say our son?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. He’s seventeen. His name’s Will. Well, William—William James actually—but everyone calls him Will. It suits him. He’s tall and good-looking, the girls all think he’s adorable. He’s doing really well at school—he’s almost finished—although he’s unsure what he wants to do next year. He’s a rower and plays soccer and tennis as well, but rowing is his absolute passion. I’ve never been sporty so he must get that from you.’

  James’s mouth hung open. He looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language, but she couldn’t seem to shut up.

  ‘He’s kind of got a girlfriend. Stacey. She’s a sweetie but you know boys at that a
ge, I think sport and food rank higher on his priority list. His favourite subjects are maths and science but he did media studies for a few years and loved the whole film and TV angle. I guess—’

  ‘Stop. Just stop!’ James held up his hand, glaring at her.

  She shut her mouth, her heart hammering as she waited for him to say something. She watched as colour climbed up his neck and painted his face a terrifying shade of red. His eyes narrowed and tiny beads of sweat pooled on his forehead. She’d never seen him look so furious and guessed that meant he wouldn’t be jumping her bones again anytime soon. Why the heck had she wasted time worrying about what to wear? James wasn’t thinking about her clothes after the bolt from the blue she’d just thrown him.

  Finally, he broke the silence. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? Is this some kind of sick joke? It’s not April bloody Fool’s Day, is it?’

  Although he didn’t shout, the curse words that punctuated his speech and his barely clipped tone gave away his fury.

  ‘I’m not kidding,’ she breathed. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He leaned towards her, his height suddenly more threatening than appealing. ‘You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? You waltz back into my life, tell me I have a son who is practically an adult and this is the first I’ve ever heard of him, and you’re sorry?’

  As James’s voice rose, Neve flinched, her heart rate accelerating even more and tears prickling in her eyes. But she refused to cry. She deserved whatever he threw at her and she didn’t want him to think she was trying to manipulate him with tears.

  ‘I know it’s not enough, but … what more can I say?’

  ‘Are you sure he’s mine?’

  She nodded. There’d never been any question of that—James had owned her heart and soul as well as her body. Back then, no other guy stood a chance.

  Sadly, nothing much had changed.

  ‘So that’s why you disappeared? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s happened to suddenly make you come clean? Is he … Is Will sick? Do you need money?’

  James fired questions at her like gunshots but every time she tried to answer, he barrelled over the top of her with more. A waitress arrived at their table and put down their coffees. She glanced from Neve to James and then crept backwards as if they were savage beasts. All other eyes in the café were glued on them but James appeared oblivious.

  ‘And what the hell was the other night about? You came to tell me about our son and instead you—’ He stopped abruptly and glared at her as if she was dog shit on his best Italian shoes.

  ‘That was—’ She started to say that sleeping with him wasn’t intentional but he stood and shook his head as if he couldn’t bear to look at her, couldn’t even bear to breathe the same air. For a second she thought maybe he might hit her, but instead he slid from the booth and stormed out of the café, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Of course he wouldn’t get physical. She was the villain in this story, not him.

  Silence surrounded her as strangers stared, expressions of repulsion on their faces. They’d heard everything. The awful secret she’d not even shared with her closest friends until recently would now be the subject of gossip over the photocopier at morning-tea time in offices all over New York. The two steaming mugs of coffee sat untouched on the table in front of her. All she wanted was to stand and flee, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.

  And then the door opened and James stormed right back in and sat himself down opposite her again. Her mouth opened in shock and she blinked back the tears that were so close she could taste them.

  ‘Do you have a photo of our boy?’

  Shock paralysed her for a few moments, then she swallowed and nodded, digging her mobile phone out of her bag. She opened her photos app and handed him the phone. ‘Aside from a few work photos of clients, they’re mostly of Will. A lot are from his year twelve ball, which was only a few weeks ago. He usually looks a lot more casual.’

  Without a word he took the phone and started swiping. She watched—fascinated, guilt-stricken and heartsick—as he took long moments over each photo. The expressions on James’s face changed frequently—sometimes he smiled, other times he frowned—but when a tear slid down his cheek, she felt like the cruellest, most despicable woman on the planet. Eighteen years ago she’d been so certain leaving was the right thing to do. Now she was even more certain that it was not.

  ‘Do you have any of when he was little? When he was a baby, a toddler, first day at school, that kind of thing?’ James’s voice swam with emotion and she cursed her stupidity and lack of forethought.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring any, but I can scan some when I get home and email them to you.’

  ‘I can never forgive you for this,’ he said after another long silence.

  She nodded, expecting nothing less. How could he forgive her when she now knew she’d never be able to forgive herself? This knowledge didn’t stop her heart shattering.

  ‘So what now?’

  Neve blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

  He hissed out a breath. ‘What made you suddenly decide to tell me? Does Will know about me? Because I sure as hell want to meet him as soon as possible.’

  She nodded, grateful at least that Will’s dream would be fulfilled. ‘He wants to meet you. He’s always known about you …’

  ‘But?’ he asked, when her voice drifted off.

  Her stomach twisted. ‘But he believes you never wanted anything to do with him.’

  Fury flashed in James’s steel-blue eyes. He slammed his fist against the table, sloshing the now cold coffee over the rims of the mugs. ‘You really are a piece of work, Gennie. You not only stole a son I would have loved and looked after, but you told him I didn’t want him? And to think, two days ago, I thought I was falling in love with you again.’

  Neve winced. The tiny joy and hope his last words brought was short-lived. She’d suspected for years that she’d never stopped loving him, and having him sitting in front of her now, staring at her with such utter revulsion, only confirmed her fears. She’d been nothing but a coward running away all those years ago, and now she was going to pay the penalty. The man she loved—the man she’d always loved—could hardly bear to look at her.

  Nothing could excuse what she’d done, so she sat there numbly, mute, prepared to take whatever he gave.

  James ran a hand through his permanently mussed-up hair. He opened his mouth and then closed it again as if he too couldn’t find the words to express his feelings. He sighed an angry breath and relaxed his fists only slightly on the table.

  Finally he spoke. ‘I’m finding this hard to digest. I need to think it all through and work out when I can get to Australia. I need to tell my girls they have a little brother. I need …’ He shook his head and changed tack. ‘You’ll have to tell Will the truth as soon as you get home.’

  ‘Tell him?’ Almost hyperventilating at the thought, she could barely get the words out. Of course that was the next step but she’d never allowed herself to think that far ahead. Finding James, seeing him again, had been enough to deal with, but the terror of that paled in comparison to telling Will the truth.

  James nodded, determination in his stare. ‘Yes. Because if you don’t, I will. I won’t have my son thinking his father didn’t want him.’

  Even in the face of James’s wrath, her heart swelled at the way he said ‘my son’. He may only have seen photos but she could tell he already loved Will with everything he had. Why had she ever doubted this would be the case? His marriage may have been on the rocks years ago, but she’d never heard anything but love and pride in his voice when he’d spoken about his daughters. The tears she’d been wrestling to keep inside sprang to the surface, spurted from her eyes and she started to ugly cry. The harder she tried to stop the more the tears came. She swiped at her eyes and saw black streaks across her fingers. Mascara. What a sight she must be.

  She hated herself. For crying. For not being able to stop. For making terrible decisions
. For the way James was looking at her now with pity, hatred and disgust.

  He shoved the holder of serviettes towards her. ‘When do you fly home?’

  ‘Saturday morning,’ she managed as she reached out and took one.

  He nodded once. ‘I’ll be in touch before then.’

  And this time when he stood and marched out of the café, he didn’t come back.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Emma

  Emma sat on the edge of the sofa bed, flicking through the channels on the hotel TV. The US might have more choice than Australia but she still couldn’t find anything she wanted to watch. Being confined in their room gave her too much time to think, which was why she’d insisted on spending as much time as possible out exploring New York. Flick and Neve kept trying to make her talk about her situation, but she’d become an expert at dodging their questions and redirecting the conversation. Although keeping up her positive act exhausted her, she couldn’t deal with discussing the news of her brain mass just yet. And talking about her fears wouldn’t change the outcome.

  In her heart of hearts she knew she had cancer and she just wanted to enjoy the few last days before the diagnosis crashed into her life and changed everything. Watching her mother get sicker and sicker, until she’d become little more than a shell of the woman she’d once been, had broken Emma’s heart and crushed her spirit. She’d seen the horror of chemotherapy and radiation treatment and the pain her mum suffered in the end, and couldn’t bear to think that would be her future. And her children’s future. While she’d been an adult when her mum had been dying, her own kids were still teenagers. They didn’t deserve to go through any of this.

  She glanced over at Flick, who was reading on her iPad, and sighed loudly, wondering when Neve would return. For a few moments her mind drifted from the one thing that had occupied it for the last forty-eight hours to Neve’s meeting with James. How would he react? She hoped for Will’s sake he would be able to get over Neve’s deception and that he’d want to meet his son. Picking up her mobile, she was about to shoot her friend a quick message of encouragement when the door of their room burst open.

 

‹ Prev