by Amy Andrews
Evie gripped the cup at the other woman’s calm response, her pulse pounding in her ears. What must Lydia think of her? Carrying Finn’s baby. Did Finn love her back? Was that why he couldn’t love her?
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know …’ She put a hand on her belly. ‘I would never have … if I had known he was with you.’
Lydia frowned. ‘What?’ She made an annoyed little noise at the back of her throat. ‘He hasn’t told you about me, has he?’ She reached across the coffee table and patted Evie’s hand. ‘Finn’s my brother-in-law. I’m Isaac’s wife. Widow, to be precise.’
Evie felt a rush of relief like a slug of Finn’s whisky to her system. She let out a pent-up breath in a loud rush. ‘His sister-in-law?’
Lydia grinned again. ‘Yes.’
‘Oh,’ Evie said, lost for words as the high robbed her of her ability to form a complex sentence. ‘That’s good.’ She smiled. ‘That’s good.’
Lydia nodded. ‘Although in the interests of full disclosure we did have a … relationship. A very messed-up one for a few years after Isaac’s death. I was a complete wreck … it was a very dark time … I think we both held on for much longer than we should have because we were each other’s link to Isaac.’
‘Oh,’ Evie said again, still having trouble with sentences but this time because of Lydia’s frankness. Finn and Isaac’s widow had been lovers? ‘Did he … did he love you?’
Lydia shook her head. ‘Not in that way, no. I wanted him to … needed him to at the time … but he’s been through a lot … seen a lot … he’s a complex man. He doesn’t love easily.’
Evie nodded slowly. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘You love him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And yet you won’t marry him.’ Lydia smiled. ‘You have him quite riled up.’
Evie shrugged, looking into the bottom of her cup. ‘He doesn’t love me. And I’m not settling for anything less.’
‘Good for you.’ Lydia laughed. ‘If it’s any consolation, though, I think he does love you.’
She looked up at Lydia sharply, expecting to find her looking as flippant as the remark, but she seemed deadly serious. ‘Well, I think he does too,’ she said. ‘But he has to say it. He has to admit it. To himself more than anything.’
Lydia nodded. ‘Yes. For a man so bloody intelligent he can be exceedingly dim-witted.’
Evie laughed and Lydia joined her. When their laughter died Lydia suddenly sat forward and grabbed Evie’s hand. ‘Don’t give up on him, Evie, please. He needs you.’
Evie was reminded of Ethan’s words. It spoke volumes that Finn had people who loved and cared about him.
‘I need him too,’ she said. ‘But I need all of him.’
Lydia let her hand go. ‘Of course you do.’ She sipped at her coffee. ‘He showed me the house,’ she said after a while.
‘Ah,’ Evie murmured. ‘The house.’
‘You don’t like the house?’ Lydia asked, her brow crinkling.
‘I freaking love the house,’ Evie muttered. ‘But I don’t want grand gestures from him.’
Lydia gave her a sad smile. ‘You have to understand what that house means to Finn.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Evie asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of her voice. ‘And what’s that? Believe me, I’d love to know. But he doesn’t tell me anything. He just wants to install me there like bloody Miss Haversham.’
Lydia pursed her lips again as if deciding what to say next. Evie hoped and prayed she’d say something, anything, that would give her some insight into the man she loved.
‘Finn and Isaac grew up in the system,’ Lydia said. ‘Their mother abandoned them when Finn was eight. Isaac was six. It was … tough. They got passed around a lot. Finn fought to keep them together, which was hard when most families only wanted one troubled child and that was usually the much sunnier Isaac. There was a lot of rejection. A lot of … bouncing around. Finn would tell Isaac stories about their dad coming to take them away to Luna Park for the day and a ride on a ferry then bringing them back to his home by the sea.’
Evie sat for long moments, letting the import of Lydia’s words sink in. Finn had bought his childhood fantasy home for his own son, the house he’d never known, with the hope of providing his child with an upbringing he’d never had.
She sat very still, moved almost to tears. And yet she was blindingly jealous too. Why had she had to hear this story from Lydia? Why couldn’t he have told her himself? If he’d told her this the day he’d taken her to the house she might not have been so bloody angry all week.
‘He told you all this?’ she asked, looking up at Lydia.
Lydia shook her head with a wry smile. ‘Good grief, no. Isaac did. Finn never speaks of it. I doubt he’s ever told anyone.’
It shouldn’t have made her feel better. The story was tragic and awful. But somehow it did. Somehow knowing that he hadn’t told any woman about his younger years gave her hope. Hope that he would open up to her about it eventually.
Over time.
Which was what they had now. Time. Before the baby was born.
Maybe she could use it wisely to get them what they both wanted?
CHAPTER SEVEN
AVA HAD BEEN in her office for one minute on Monday morning when the door opened and Finn stormed in.
‘What do women want?’ he demanded.
Ava looked up from the mail she’d been opening. He was in his usual work attire of a carelessly worn suit, his tie pulled askew. ‘And good morning to you too, Finn.’
Finn waved his hand dismissively. ‘I bought her a house—a goddamn house—and she still turned me down.’
‘You bought her a house because … you love her?’
He shoved his hand on his hip. ‘This has nothing to do with love. I bought her a house so our son has a roof over his head.’
‘Right … so you bought her a house but you don’t love her? Goodness.’ Ava tsked. ‘That’s a tad ungrateful.’
Finn glared at her. ‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’
Ava sighed as Finn prowled back and forth in front of her desk. ‘Okay. Did she say why she turned you down?’
Finn stopped pacing. ‘She said she could buy her own house.’ He shot her an incredulous look. ‘Like I’d offended her feminist principles.’
Ava nodded patiently. Of course Evie Lockheart could buy her own house. With or without the Lockheart fortune behind her. But years of being a psychologist told her there was a lot more to Evie’s refusal than an affront to feminism.
‘What else?’
‘What?’
‘Did she say anything else?’
Finn took up prowling again and Ava leaned back in her chair to wait him out.
‘She wants me to open up to her,’ he said eventually.
Ava suppressed a smile. Opening up was not something that Finn was known for. He made it sound as if Evie had asked for a sparkly unicorn or some other such nonsense.
‘And you don’t want to do that?’
‘How does talking about my past have anything to do with raising our son together?’ he demanded.
Ava swung slightly in her chair, watching Finn pace. ‘Because it’s what couples do?’ she suggested.
‘We’re not a couple,’ he snapped, coming to an abrupt halt.
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘And yet you want her to marry you …?’
‘None of that stuff is important to a successful future together.’
Ava knew he was dead wrong and she suspected that somewhere beneath all the injury and barriers he knew it too. But it wasn’t her job to tell him he was wrong. ‘Is it important what you think or what she needs?’
He glared at her. ‘Goddamn it. Can’t you just give me one piece of useful advice instead of answering every question with another question? You’re a sex therapist, aren’t you supposed to be full of practical ideas about making relationships work?’
Ava sighed. He was far from ready for practical exercises and she
should be annoyed that he wanted her to give him a magic wand without doing any of the hard yards he obviously needed. But this was Finn, who wasn’t a client, and for Evie’s sake maybe she could help.
‘Fine.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Woo her, Finn.’
He frowned. ‘Woo her? Are we living in Shakespearian England all of a sudden?’ he scoffed.
Ava knew that good wooing took time and if Evie was smart she’d use it to her advantage. ‘You wanted my advice.’ She shrugged. ‘You got it.’
‘I’ve already got her pregnant—don’t you think it’s a little late for the wooing?’
Ava shook her head. ‘It’s never too late for wooing.’
Finn shut his eyes. Bloody hell. He’d bought her a house and now he was going to have to woo her as well?
He opened his eyes. ‘Gee, thanks.’
Ava grinned at Finn’s look of distaste. ‘Don’t mention it.’
Finn knocked on Evie’s door that night in his suit, juggling some flowers and a bag of Indian takeaway. He knew she was on days off because he’d checked the emergency department’s medical roster at lunchtime.
He’d been brooding about Ava’s advice all day and by the time he’d finished his afternoon theatre list he’d decided it might be a worth a try. He had time, after all, and instead of rushing like a bull at a gate, which was what he had been doing, maybe a little subtlety was called for.
But it had better show dividends pretty quickly because, come hell or high water, they would be married by the time the baby was born.
The door opened and he suddenly felt awkward and unsure of himself standing there with flowers. Women usually came to him—flowers and that kind of thing weren’t his style.
Evie blinked. ‘Finn?’
‘I have flowers,’ he said, pushing them into her arms. He lifted up the plastic bag in his other hand. ‘And Indian takeaway. Have you eaten?’
Evie shook her head, the aroma of yellow roses and oriental lilies enveloping her. ‘I was just doing some … yoga.’
Finn noted her workout gear. Skin-tight Lycra knee-length leggings. An equally form-fitting top with a round neckline and spaghetti straps that bared her shoulders and stretched over her full breasts and rounded belly. Her hair had been scraped back into a messy ponytail.
‘I see,’ he said, exceedingly self-conscious as he tried not to stare. She seemed to get bigger every time he saw her.
‘Come in,’ she said, falling back to allow him entry.
Finn stepped inside and then followed her through to the lounge room. There was some low Gregorian chant playing from a sound system somewhere and he noted the yoga mat on the floor. He sat where she indicated on the three-seater lounge and started to pull the containers out while she took the flowers out of sight.
He heard water running, a fridge door opening then shuffling of crockery and tinkling of glasses as he pulled the lids off. He almost called out to just bring some cutlery but he supposed part of the wooing process was to eat off good plates rather than straight from the containers.
Evie, her brain busy trying to fathom what Finn was up to now, was back in the lounge room in a couple of minutes, balancing a tray and the vase of flowers. Finn, who’d taken off his jacket and tie, stood and relieved her of the tray as she placed the vase on top of the television cabinet and used a remote to turn the music off. When she turned back he’d unloaded the tray and her plate was waiting for her, the napkin a bright slash of red against the snowy white pattern.
He was pouring them both sparkling water and he smiled at her as he handed her the glass. A smile that went straight to her insides. She sat towards the end of the lounge, tucking a foot up underneath her, being careful to leave a cushion’s distance between them as he asked her what she wanted then proceeded to plate it up for her, passing it and the napkin over when he was done.
She took it and sat unmoving for a few moments as he turned his attention to his own meal. When that was done he smiled at her again and then tucked in.
‘Okay,’ she said, placing her plate on the coffee table. ‘What’s going on?’
Finn, in mid-swallow, thought about feigning obtuseness as Bella had already accused him of being obtuse anyway. But he was a cards-on-the-table kind of guy.
He finished his mouthful and took a drink of water as the spicy lamb korma heated his mouth. ‘Ava thinks I should woo you.’
Evie frowned. ‘Ava? Ava Carmichael?’
Finn nodded. ‘The one and only.’
‘You’re seeing Ava?’
‘Yes. No. Not like that. We just … chat sometimes …’
Evie was lost for words. ‘I … see …’ What on earth could she say to such a startling revelation?
It was Finn’s turn to frown. ‘You don’t like it.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew it was a dumb idea,’ he muttered.
Evie shook her head. ‘No, I just …’ Just what? Was shocked, amazed, flabbergasted? That Finn Kennedy had not only asked a sex therapist for advice about their relationship but had also obviously taken it on board. ‘It’s sweet … really sweet,’ she ended lamely.
‘Great,’ Finn grumbled, as he also put his plate down. ‘Why don’t you just pat me on the head and tell me to run along?’
Evie watched as he ran a hand through his hair. This was her chance to start making inroads into his reserve. If he’d finally dropped his bullying tactics and was willing to take others’ advice he might just be open to doing things her way.
She leaned forward, resting her bent elbows on her knees. ‘I don’t want you to woo me, Finn.’
Finn gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Probably just as well. I obviously suck at it.’
Evie laughed. ‘You were doing fine. I’m sure with a little practice you’ll be perfect.’
He glanced at her. ‘But it’s not what you want?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘How about I do you a deal? I will marry you after the baby is born if we spend these next few months getting to know each other first.’
Finn’s heart started to pound in his chest. It was the same thing she’d told him she wanted at the house. Except she’d made a major concession—she was promising to marry him. ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he said warily.
Evie nodded. ‘I spoke to Lydia. She thinks you’re worth a little perseverance.’
Finn felt every muscle in his body tense. ‘Lydia?’
Evie almost shivered at the sudden drop in his tone. ‘She told me a little about you and Isaac growing up in the care system and what the house at Lavender Bay symbolises for you. She asked me not to give up on you. So, by the way, did Ethan.’
Finn wanted to roar at the interference. How dared they talk about him behind his back? This stuff was deeply, deeply personal! ‘Lydia and Ethan,’ he ground out, ‘should really learn to keep their big mouths shut.’
‘They care about you, Finn,’ she murmured. ‘As I do. And I’m willing to meet you at this halfway you wanted, to marry you, but only if you’re willing to meet me halfway. I want us to get to know each other, Finn. No holds barred. No topic off limits.’
Finn felt the slow burn of anger being doused by hope as the push and pull of emotions seesawed inside him.
He could have what he wanted.
But at what cost?
Was she hoping her amateur attempts at psychology would result in some breakthrough? ‘Do you think me spilling my guts to you will make me love you somehow? Is that what you’re hoping for, Evie? Because it’s probably just going to make me resent you.’
Goose-bumps broke out on Evie’s arms at the conviction in his voice. She shrugged. ‘Well, I guess that’s a risk I’m prepared to take. This isn’t about making you love me, Finn.’
‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it?’ he demanded, his emotions swinging again. ‘So when we get to the end of it all and you know all the sordid details of my life, especially the bit where I don’t know how to love anybody because I grew up without any and I still can’t give you the love yo
u want, you’re still going to marry me? Is that right?’
Evie swallowed at the stark facts he hadn’t bothered to sugar-coat. ‘Yes. That’s right. I just want to know you better. Is it so wrong to want to know the man you’re married to? The father of your child?’
Finn hated that she was so bloody rational. They were talking about his life and there was nothing rational about that. He stood and glared down at her. ‘So you want to know how it felt to have Isaac die in my arms?’ he demanded. ‘And my awful childhood with a mother who abandoned us? You want to know all my dirty little secrets?’
Evie nodded, knowing it was vital to stay calm in the face of his consternation. She understood she was asking a very big thing of him. It was only fair for him to rail against it for a while.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want you to tell me everything in one night. We can build up to the hard stuff but … yes, I want to know it all.’
Finn felt lost as the storm raged inside him. He’d thought she’d back down in the face of his outrage but she wasn’t even blinking. He felt angry and scared and panicked as he contemplated what she wanted.
Cornered.
And then Evie slipped her hand into his and it was like the storm suddenly calmed and he had an overwhelming urge to tell her everything. Completely unburden himself. ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Eat your curry. It’s getting cold.’
Finn sat, his heart beating like a bongo drum as he raked his hands through his hair. She picked up his plate and handed it to him and he took it, eating automatically as his thoughts whizzed around and collided with each other like atoms on speed.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked eventually after half his meal had been demolished and he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
‘It’s okay,’ Evie said. ‘We don’t have to talk tonight. Just … tell me about your day.’
He frowned. ‘My day?’
Evie gave a half-laugh at his bewildered expression. ‘Yes. Your day. You know, the stuff married people talk about all the time.’
It was awkward at first but they were soon chatting about safe hospital topics—his theatre list tomorrow, how Prince Khalid was going, some new whizz-bang monitor he wanted for the cath lab and the new salads on the canteen menu. And before Evie knew it, two hours had passed and Finn was on his second cup of coffee.