The Runaway Ex

by Shani Struthers

  She knew there was no point in arguing with him anymore. The man in him had made up his mind; the man in him was immovable.

  “Okay,” she conceded, “but if at any point you want to bail out—”

  “Stop right there.” He pulled her closer to him, their legs wrapped tight round each other now. “It’s you and me, babe, all the way, for better or for worse.”

  Tara laughed. There was both happiness and sadness in it.

  “You don’t have to say that. We’re not married, you know.”

  “No, but we’re going to be. You made me a promise back in Oz—I’ve got witnesses to prove it. You said you’d be my wife, and I’m going to hold you to it.”

  Tara shook her head vehemently. “I don’t need you to marry me to prove you love me.”

  Reaching up to cup her chin, he stilled her. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s me who needs to marry you. Like I said, Tara, you’re mine, forever, come what may.”

  Staring into his eyes, she thought the dark-brown of them seemed depthless, but it was his soul she was looking into, and that was what was depthless.

  “Come what may,” she whispered back, leaning closer, marveling at that ancient truth—that at the point of greatest darkness, the brightest light so often shines.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  AS HANNAH SAT COMFORTING LAYLA in the kitchen, Penny returned to the hallway with Jim.

  “Brain tumor,” he was saying, shaking his head at the revelation, trying, as they all were, to take in the sheer magnitude of it. “Tara?”

  “I know, I can’t believe it either,” Penny replied just as solemnly. “She looks well, for God’s sake. I don’t know, it’s…it’s just too awful to even contemplate.”

  With a start, Penny realized she had never known anyone affected by a terminal illness before, and although she couldn’t claim to know Tara, she certainly felt affected by it. Floored, to be precise. Her craving for Richard and Scarlett also intensified. She wanted them close to her; she wanted them here, in Trecastle, right now, this very minute, so she could keep them safe from what suddenly felt like a cruel world. The distance between her and her husband and daughter, it was too much.

  “What are we going to do about Joe?” Jim broke into her thoughts.

  “I don’t know. I think I should go after him. Try and calm him down,” Penny said. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, “It can’t be over between them, surely?”

  Jim didn’t look convinced. “I’ve never seen him like that,” he said. “In all the years I’ve known him.”

  Penny had never seen anyone like it, let alone Joseph. Angry didn’t come close. The damage that had been done, she hoped it could be undone—some of it at least. There deserved to be some winners in this abysmal situation.

  She was about to get her coat, but Jim stopped her. “No, it’s okay, Penny. I’ll go and see where he is. I don’t know the ins and outs of what’s gone on between you all, but I don’t think he’d welcome you right now.”

  Penny felt tears prick at her eyes.

  “Hey.” Immediately Jim came forward and wrapped his arms around her. Bear hugs were a specialty of his. “It’ll be all right.”

  “But what if it’s not? What if he won’t forgive Layla? All of this, it’s my fault.”

  Releasing her, Jim took a step back. “It is not your fault. This thing, this illness, what’s happened to Tara, it’s no one’s fault, it just…it just is. Joseph will be okay, you’ll see.”

  Reaching out a hand to touch her cheek, he smiled down at her before heading to the front door. Alone in the hallway, Penny hugged herself, still in need of comfort. In the kitchen, Layla’s sobbing had quieted. All Penny could hear was the low, calm voice of Hannah, murmuring, soothing. She went to go and join them but stopped. It felt too intrusive, somehow. As though her presence would only rile matters again.

  Instead, she went into the living room and sank down on the sofa. In the space of a few short hours, the world had changed—again. Change wasn’t something Penny particularly liked. Rather, she was a creature of habit; everyday routine comforted her. As wild as she tried to act on occasion, deep down she wasn’t wild at all, something she blamed her astral sign for. She was a Virgo, a fixed sign. And Richard, he was Taurus—another earth sign, solid and dependable. And that was an apt description of him, she thought with surprising affection. As for Scarlett, she was Scorpio, a water sign—passionate with hidden depths. Penny had had the baby’s star chart drawn up at birth. There was plenty of fire about her too—again very apt. Fiery was certainly one way to describe her. And scary. She could admit that now. Motherhood was the biggest change in her life, and it had scared her beyond witless. But she was also very lucky to have a baby, a family of her own. Tara never would have, by the sounds of it. A privilege denied.

  Poor Tara, poor Joseph, poor Layla, and if she were going to be kind to herself for once instead of beating herself up for her myriad failings, poor her. If only she’d admitted she needed help, had talked to Richard, instead of being jealous of the easy relationship he had formed so rapidly, so easily, with his daughter—a relationship she was having such trouble getting the hang of. Rather than just accept that motherhood took some getting used to, she had gone on the defense instead, pushed Richard and the baby as far away as possible, despite occupying the same living space as them.

  Rubbing at her temples with her hands, she had to admit it wasn’t an easy thing to come clean about. She had gotten the impression from other women in prenatal and baby yoga classes that admittance of abject defeat would only be treated with the utmost disdain. Each and every one of the pregnant ladies she had met while she had been pregnant seemed almost serene with happiness, not exhausted beyond belief. And when their little bundles had been brought into the world, by water birth usually, that serenity for mother and baby seemed only to increase.

  She recalled once meeting a group of new mothers at Treacle, a café in Hove. She, Beth, Lizzie, Jane, and Deryn had all had babies within days of each other. Once everybody could walk again—and she had barely been able to, thanks to an hour’s worth of stitching post-baby—they had swooped with their prams on Treacle.

  Only Penny seemed embarrassed that their parked prams effectively prevented anyone else from enjoying cake and coffee in the café too. There were a couple more empty tables, but you’d need to clamber over shiny new Bugaboos and Maclarens to get to them. The other mums either didn’t seem to care or were oblivious. They were oblivious to everything except their babies, also shiny and new. And the babies themselves—Penny gritted her teeth at this particular memory—behaved beautifully. All except Scarlett, who had struggled and grumbled and groaned constantly. Penny had missed out on most of the conversation between the women, even though she’d been desperate to hear it, little anecdotes of how they coped. She’d been too busy pacing with Scarlett in what little space was available, jiggling her up and down in an attempt to soothe her but only succeeding in enraging her further. The end result? Prolonged bouts of deafening screams. When she could, though, she had listened in, wanting to be a part of the group, to be a part of something when she had felt so adrift.

  “Darcy slept through the night, again. Can you believe it?” Deryn had cooed.

  No wonder Deryn looked so bloody good; most people did if they’d slept.

  “And breast-feeding, it feels so natural, doesn’t it?” Beth had piped up.

  Felt natural? It did not! She had tried it; it was nothing less than excruciating.

  “It completes your life,” Lizzie had sighed. “Having a baby.”

  Wrecked it, more like.

  No, she was definitely the odd one out among them. When the next invite to coffee had come, she had politely declined. Far from making her feel part of something—the biggest club in the world—their raptures had made her feel even more isolated. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice they hadn’t persisted in inviting her. Clearly, whatever she had felt about them, they had felt about her
too.

  But surely, and this was something she’d thought a million times, not every mother in the world took to motherhood straightaway? Surely someone other than herself found the adjustment equally as hard. Often she fantasized about finding someone she could be honest with. Say things to like, “Changing nappies, it makes you heave, doesn’t it?” or “I miss wild nights out. You know, dancing, drinking, staying up until the early hours.” They could have laughed about it, consoled each other that such high dependency didn’t last forever, that eventually you got your life back—or a semblance of it, at least. She yearned for someone who wasn’t going to look at her as if she were Satan in a skirt for hinting that sometimes, just sometimes, it got boring looking after a baby day in, day out, that the mind disintegrated when your main vocabulary consisted of mama, dada, and baba. Richard could have been that someone. But, no, Richard had been as bad as the mothers. Sometimes more so.

  Despite wishing they were here, Penny couldn’t help thinking Richard and Scarlett were better off without her. They didn’t need her in their lives. They had each other. That was enough. That was why she had left them in the first place—not because she wanted to, not really, not deep down. What she had wanted was to make it work between the three of them. What she didn’t know was how to.

  She tried not to cry. There’d been tears enough tonight.

  “Bugger,” she swore as tears fell regardless.

  Blowing her nose hard, she heard a ringing sound. The doorbell! Joseph returning, realizing he’d been too harsh on Layla and desperate to make amends? Layla would be swift to apologize too. That mess cleared up at least.

  She heard someone rush down the hallway. Layla, no doubt, thinking the same thing. She wouldn’t investigate; she’d hang back, stay out of harm’s way.

  “Penny.” It was Hannah’s voice, not Layla’s, calling. “It’s for you.”

  For me? But who? The only people she knew in Trecastle had a key to this flat; there was no need to ring the doorbell.

  Wiping at her nose again, she scrunched up the tissue and threw it into her bag; she’d dispose of it in the bathroom later. She then smoothed down her hair and her T-shirt before heading out of the living room, hoping she didn’t look too frightful.

  In the hallway, she almost fainted. There, as large as life, with a sheepish smile on his face and a struggling baby in his arms, stood Richard.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, looking first at Hannah and then more beseechingly at Penny. “This baby lark, you’re right, it’s no picnic, is it?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  WHEN THE DOORBELL HAD RUNG LAST NIGHT, Layla thought her heart might burst. Please, she remembered thinking, let it be Joseph. She was as shocked as Penny to see Richard and Scarlett there instead. Shocked and, she couldn’t help it, disappointed too. Joseph wasn’t coming back anytime soon; she knew that.

  Hannah had settled the young family in the front room. The sofa bed was big enough for both Penny and Richard, and the baby could sleep in between them.

  “Sleep? We should be so lucky,” Richard had muttered. He looked exhausted, truly done in. To be fair, everyone around her did.

  Layla had hung around only for as long as was polite. As soon as she could, she had made her excuses and escaped to her room, assuring both Hannah and Penny she’d be fine.

  “Where’s Joe?” Richard had asked, mystified.

  Layla had left that to Penny to explain.

  The night had seemed endless—and so lonely. Again and again she played Joseph’s words over in her head, words like tumor, brutal, and death not causing her more pain as she thought they would but numbing her until she was hardly able to feel a thing. Like she had done when her father died, Layla packaged up emotions too hard to deal with and put them in a box, slamming the lid shut. It was a temporary measure, she knew. She’d have to revisit that box soon—in the morning, perhaps—but for the immediate hours ahead, she made the most of not feeling at all.

  She must have dozed, because rays of sunlight woke her. But if she had, it was for moments only. With daylight, however, came resolve. She knew what she had to do. Rising, she made her way to the kitchen. In the drawer of the Welsh dresser, Hannah kept a notepad and pen. Retrieving them, she began to write.

  Dear Tara

  I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. And if you tear this letter up without reading further, I don’t blame you. But I want you to know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for sending Aiden over without discussing it with you and Joseph first. I’m sorry for the way I felt toward you. I’m sorry I doubted you at all.

  The strange thing is I actually liked you. I just wouldn’t let myself believe it. When we had lunch together at The Admiral Inn, I thought you were just the kind of girl I’d like to hang out with. I wish I’d held on to that thought.

  Joseph has told me about your condition, and I’m sorry about that too. My heart breaks for you—dramatic but true. I pray there’s some way you can beat it.

  I don’t suppose we shall ever meet again, but the impact you’ve had on me is huge, and I don’t mean in a negative sense. You’ve made me grow up. Quite frankly, it’s about time.

  Layla

  She folded the letter neatly in half, found an envelope, sealed it tightly, and marked Tara’s name on it. Returning to her bedroom, she left it on the side while she took a shower. As water splashed over her, she tried hard not to think about Joseph, about where he was and about how he was feeling too, upset about Tara and disappointed in his girlfriend. If she allowed herself to dwell on his feelings too much, what little resolve she had might break. As she dried her hair in front of the mirror, she found it hard to look at her reflection. When she did, she didn’t like what she saw.

  After pulling on some clothes, she returned to the kitchen and forced herself to have a glass of orange juice and a piece of buttered toast.

  Penny came hurrying into the kitchen, looking tired but happy. As though she were ashamed of feeling that way, she adopted a more solemn face.

  “Oh, Layla,” she said, walking straight up to her and giving her a hug. “Did you manage any sleep at all?”

  “A bit. What about you?”

  “Strangely enough, we were fine. The baby settled peacefully—an all-time first.”

  “Maybe things are changing?” Layla suggested. “Getting easier.”

  “Maybe,” Penny conceded.

  “Penny, I’m sorry…”

  “Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Penny started to protest.

  “I have,” Layla rushed on. “So many things. I knew you were finding the baby hard to deal with. I saw how overwhelmed you were by her arrival when I came to stay. But I was so wrapped up in my life—my happy, perfect life—I put your feelings on the back burner. And then when you turn up in Trecastle without Scarlett, it’s still my feelings I’m concerned with rather than yours. I never thought of myself as selfish, or jealous or vindictive, but I’ve proved to be all three. I’m sorry you felt so alone. I suspected you did, and I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I’m such a bad friend.”

  Without a word, Penny drew her close again. Layla was not only relieved but grateful for the comfort she offered so unstintingly.

  “You’re my best friend,” Penny said upon releasing her. “Never doubt that. And I don’t blame you for anything. It wasn’t your place to notice; it was Richard’s. I was glad you were happy.”

  Her eyes resting on Layla’s plate of half-eaten toast, she continued, “I’m going to cook you something. You’ll feel so much better after you’ve eaten breakfast.”

  Layla stopped her. Half a piece of toast was all she could manage.

  “Well, okay, if you’re sure.” With brightness in her voice that Layla knew was forced, Penny continued, “What shall we do today? Shall we go somewhere nice?”

  “We?”

  “Yes, you and me, I mean. Richard’s okay. He’s going to take the baby out sightseeing. We can go for a walk somewhere if you want. Get s
ome lunch, talk.”

  A seven-month-old sightseeing? Layla had to smile at that.

  “I take it from the look on your face that’s a yes.”

  “Actually, Penny, it isn’t. It’s a no.”

  “Oh.” Penny looked downcast. Grabbing the chair next to Layla, she lowered herself onto it. “What are you planning to do, then?”

  “I’m going to see—”

  “Joseph?” Penny interrupted.

  “Tara,” Layla corrected.

  “Tara?” Penny looked horrified. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I’m not actually going to see her,” Layla amended. “I’ve written her a letter, and I want to deliver it.” Contemplating this for a few seconds, she added, “I would actually like to see her, you know, apologize to her too, but I doubt she’d want to see me.”

  “But what about Joseph?” Penny dared to ask.

  “What about him?”

  “Oh, come on, you know what I mean.”

  “I do, but right now, I can’t think beyond Tara.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Penny declared, rising determinedly from the chair. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll get showered and dressed too.”

  “Penny, stop.”

  Amazingly, Penny did as she was told.

  “I appreciate your support, really I do, but this is something I need to do by myself. The Defender’s still out back; I checked earlier. I’ll take that.”

  “Oh, Layla.” Penny reached across and covered Layla’s hand with her own. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I feel I’m as much to blame as you, more so even. Me and my stupid theories. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

  “This is not your fault. It’s me who made a mess of things, and me alone.”

  “Well, we’re not going,” stated Penny. “Me and Richard, I mean. We’ve agreed. We’ll stick around for as long as you need us.”

  “Thanks, Penny, but don’t worry. I still intend to leave on Monday.”

  “Go back to Florence?”

  “Perhaps. I’m not sure yet. It depends on Joseph. But, if it is all over between us—” Her voice cracked on the word “over,” and she had to stop to collect herself. “If it is all over,” she continued, “yes, I’ll fly back to Florence, pack what I need, and go and stay with Mum and Georgio in Milan for a while. I’ll decide from there what happens next.”