“Pinterest,” she countered, putting her phone down beside her. “I’m completely addicted. I swear, I need a job so I can think about something other than shiny shoes.”
I passed her a glass and clinked mine on hers before seating myself opposite on a single seater chair. The last thing I wanted was embarrassment when the menfolk came in because Finn would be sitting with Jill and I didn’t want Nicholas sitting with me.
I wasn’t sure what to think of our sexual attraction, and discussing it with Jill had been uncomfortable enough. To have him in the same room, with Jill and Finn watching us…
I shook my head, and decided the best thing was to concentrate on something else. “I’m still waiting to hear from the hospital,” I said. “Marcus might be able to have visitors tonight.”
I’d resigned myself to the fact that I had to go. It was my responsibility to be his support until Adele arrived. Not that I wanted to. And I particularly didn’t want Nicholas with me at the hospital, but I knew he’d insist and I also knew I’d agree. It was the sensible thing to do.
Jill took a healthy slug of her drink, then chewed on some raspberries before saying, “The girls should be here soon. Maybe we can all go together?”
She said it so blithely, I could have been mistaken into imagining she’d already warned me. Only, she hadn’t. “You rang Angela and Fritha?” I sounded appalled and I wasn’t sure why.
“Of course. Marcus was shot. If something happened to Finn, wouldn’t you come to me?”
“You didn’t tell me you’d invited them here.” I’d texted them about Marcus but the idea of having them watching Nicholas and I made the sexual tension between us feel even more uncomfortable.
Jill was still frowning and I wanted to explain that the affair with Nicholas and myself wasn’t something I wanted broadcasted to anyone else—so to please keep that to herself when the girls arrived—but before I could, he walked in, with Finn close behind.
“Cocktails!” Jill raised her glass to them.
Nicholas propped part-way into the room and said, “Berries?” He turned to Finn. “How about a beer?”
“Perfect.” Finn continued into the room and sat next to Jill who immediately snuggled up to her man as he said to me, “I hope that didn’t insult your hospitality?”
I shook my head. “I always want my guests to be comfortable.”
Jill raised her glass. “If I was any more comfortable I’d start blabbing.”
“Let’s not go there.” Finn said it before I could. Then he kissed the top of her head and said to me, “I’m so sorry about Marcus.”
I nodded, and felt suddenly awkward, torn between the more relaxed Louella I had been of late, and the reserved Mrs. Knight that was all Finn had known of me. My instinct was to silence and fake smiles—my armor—but any minute Nicholas would be back in the room and he might call me out on that. I couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that might be.
I stood abruptly, suddenly realizing I hadn’t thought this through. A week ago I would have been perfectly comfortable with this get-together. Nicholas would have been in The Quarters and I would know exactly how everyone was likely to behave.
Both Finn and Jill looked up at me, and I realized I had to say something. “I’ll ring the hospital.” Then without waiting for a reply, I left them to go into the library. I was shutting the door behind me when Nicholas shoved a foot in it and said softly, “Hey? What’s wrong?”
I let the door go and stepped backwards, giving him room to enter with a beer bottle in each hand. He closed the door with his backside.
“Are you okay?”
“Beer goes in glasses.” I nodded at the bottles.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then, “Is this too manly for you?” gesturing with the bottles
“It’s not…” cultured.
“Not Rose Bay enough?” he asked. “Not something Marcus would do?” I could see he was starting to get angry. “Marcus was gay,” he said, enunciating every word slowly. “And maybe that aligned his sensibilities more closely to yours. Or maybe he was a rich guy who knew how rich people should behave. I can drink beer out of a glass if you want me to, but I thought the hallmark of a lady or a gentleman was that they made the people around them feel comfortable.”
Was he quoting me back at myself? It sounded like something I’d say.
“…so I don’t know why you’re trying to make me feel uncomfortable,” he went on. “If Finn wanted to drink beer out of a bottle, would you question him?”
I had to be honest. “No.”
“So this is about me looking like someone who deserves to be in your bed.”
Was it? Jill’s comment about the princess and the pauper came back to haunt me. I’d been completely at ease with everything about Nicholas when he’d been my employee. He might wear jeans and a leather vest, but they were designer clothes, and I could see that the beer he was giving Finn—which had to be his, I didn’t stock beer—was an expensive brand.
Was I that much of a snob that I was embarrassed to be with someone who earned less than me?
He shook his head, frowning, then put one beer down onto the desk beside me. “You know what, you entertain your guests. Pour it into a glass. Do whatever you want. I’m going upstairs to do my job.” And with that he stalked out, leaving me to take the beer to Finn and to apologize that work had required Nicholas to absent himself.
Jill raised an eyebrow, but the conversation flowed on about their trip and baby plans. An hour later the doorbell rang, and I was halfway to it when Nicholas overtook me in the hallway and rounded on me to say, “Since when is it alright for you to open the door?”
“Since you went off in a sulk,” I said calmly, but he shook his head.
“Under no circumstances.” He eyeballed me. “I don’t care how much I piss you off, you do not compromise your safety.”
I felt some of my confusion settle. This part of our relationship was known, familiar, reassuring. “I’m sorry. Jill has phoned Angela and Fritha. I hadn’t realized, or I would have told you.”
“It’s the redhead.” His expression was prosaic, and I realized then that he must have seen her in his surveillance equipment. I knew Fritha had annoyed him at Jill’s wedding, trying to get him into bed, but her propositioning had rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.
I’d appreciated his single-minded focus on me then, and I liked it even more now. While we gazed at each other, his expression softened, then he said, “You look beautiful in grey.” My heart stuttered in response, “And just so you know, I see you, not your money or your house or your car. Just you.” He reached out and touched my arm, sliding his fingers down to glide over my inner wrist and palm before letting me go.
It was the slightest touch, but it set every throbbing nerve-ending on sensual alert. If we’d been home alone, I might well have wanted to kiss him. Instead, I said, “Fritha.”
His expression grew wry. “Beware the rainbow tornado.”
He went to the door and let her in.
“Nicky!” she squealed, and launched herself at him as if they were besties. Green cheesecloth flapped in all directions.
“Ms. Wynde,” he said formally, his hands out of the way while she gave him an over-enthusiastic hug, rubbing her freckled cheek against his chest which pulled her long red curls out of their haphazard ponytail.
Then she let him go and said, “You still have a very nice ass,” and winked at me.
Nicholas, for all his aplomb, started to blush. “If you’ll excuse me.” He didn’t look at me as he shut the door and then walked past us on his way upstairs.
“What?” Fritha asked, and stared at me as if it was my fault. “I didn’t swear.”
An hour later Nicholas let Angela and Jack in before excusing himself again. It was my second meeting with the outback farmer who’d won Angela’s heart. The first time I’d broken up argument between them, and all I’d registered was that he was very tall and solid. This time I coul
d agree with Fritha’s assessment that his chest was prime acreage, and his rugged good looks were certainly appealing.
He was attractive, but I wasn’t attracted to him. Nicholas was the only man who seemed capable of eliciting that response, which was confusing and more than a little unnerving, so instead of pondering it, I concentrated on my friends. Angela was wearing a beautiful, orange Punjabi suit—one of her favorites—which she insisted showed off a tiny baby bump. I suspected it was too early for her to be showing any external signs of pregnancy, but while Jill and Fritha cooed over her unseen fetus, Finn and Jack made the necessary male small-talk to become acquainted enough to relax.
Jack was content with a neat whisky and I scouted out another beer for Finn before excusing myself because I’d started to become distinctly uncomfortable with Nicholas staying in his room when our guests knew he was home.
I went upstairs, intending to knock on his door, but as I drew closer I heard his voice, so I stopped outside to wait until he’d finished, intending to ask him if he wanted to join us.
“…someone must know.” Pause. “Well sniff around some more. I’m sure there’s more going on there than beauty treatments. But don’t tell anyone else. This has to stay between us.” Another pause, while I felt my heart pounding in my throat. He had to be talking about The Rocks Spa, trying to find out why I’d been upset. “No, especially not Gisel. You know how she gets when my clients are women.” He listened for a moment, then chuckled softly. “Oh yeah, there are jealous bones in her body.”
Instinctively, I turned away, absolutely not wanting to hear more about Gisel’s jealousy and how amusing that was. When I returned to the living room, Jill jumped up and grabbed my arm. “So, let’s make snacks in the kitchen.” Angela and Fritha piled up behind her and it was very obviously a ploy to ditch the men, but Finn waved us off and he and Jack exchanged a patient glance—two remarkably handsome men who appeared smitten enough to allow their womenfolk free rein.
As I let the girls bustle me into the kitchen, I wondered if I’d be happy with the sort of relaxed relationships these girls had. They were so different to the formality of my relationship with Marcus.
The moment we reached the kitchen, Jill grabbed wine out of the fridge and soda water for Angela while Fritha got glasses and soon we were facing each other across the breakfast bar, speaking in hushed tones.
Fritha started first. “If I’d known you were fucking Nick,” she said to me, as if everyone in the world knew about my sex-life, “I would have been hands-off at the wedding, you know that.”
Tellingly, Angela made no sound of surprise, so I turned on Jill who didn’t even have the grace to blush. “I’ve got the blabbermouth gene. You know that.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or relieved that it was out in the open. But I had to ask, “Did you tell Finn?”
“No! I’m not completely indiscreet.”
None of us bothered to argue.
Before I could say more, Angela interrupted with, “So, this new. Is it good?” She looked at me expectantly. “You’re happy?”
I shook my head. “I’m confused and still married to Marcus, so it’s all a bit premature.”
Fritha snorted. “So long as he isn’t.”
Jill sniggered at that, then they glanced at me and wiped the smiles off their faces.
As usual, it was Angela who took the sensitive approach, her dark Indian eyes gentling as she spoke. “It’s completely understandable that you’d want things with Marcus behind you before…you know. And how is Marcus? Have you heard from the hospital?”
I shook my head. “Adele arrives tonight. It’s a lot to put on her young shoulders, but I’ll be glad to have someone else take over.”
“Take what over?” Angela leant forward. “I thought the accident had only just happened.”
I looked from one to the other and realized that I was tired of keeping things from them. It was a miracle that Jill hadn’t blabbed this already, but it would be only a matter of time before they found out he was gay. I may as well tell them the rest.
So I laid out the whole sordid story, from finding out Marcus was gay six years ago and turning to alcohol, the lie about me having a love interest so we could divorce, to his reckless relationship and debts, the suicide attempt, then the shooting. By the end of it I felt quite emotional and was embarrassed to be misting up in front of the three of them.
That had never happened before.
“Oh, L.” Angela grabbed my hand. “Why didn’t you tell us? I’m so sorry you had to face that alone.”
“I wasn’t alone through the worst of it,” I admitted. “I’ve had Nicholas these last few weeks, and that’s been very stabilizing.” Then I shook my head. “Until the reckless lovemaking episode. That changed everything—our roles, my sense of identity.”
Jill leant forward. “But it must have been cathartic. Was it emotional?”
I nodded. Very.
She smiled, a gentle been there, done that smile. “Then it’s good. It’s all good.”
Fritha was uncharacteristically quiet, gazing at me with big, brown, cocker spaniel eyes so I reached out a hand to her but she pushed past it to snuggle into my grey flannel suit as if it was a quilt. “Don’t go crazytown on us, L,” she whispered. “You’re the momma bear.”
“I’m okay,” I promised, trying to put Gisel and her jealousy out of my mind, along with the idea of Nicholas discovering what I’d done at The Rocks Spa. That episode seemed so long ago—another life. And while it had helped me release a deep-seated anger, that wasn’t me. I didn’t want to be defined by that one aberration.
When I let Fritha go, I noticed that Jill was looking particularly pensive. She met my eye and said, “So now I’ve got a problem of my own to unburden.”
Angela waved for her to start. “I’m fine. You go.”
Fritha nodded. “I’m good.”
Jill breathed deeply and then began, not looking at any of us. “So here’s the thing. I’ve got a problem and I don’t know what to do, and Finn is no help. He just wants to give Brittany whatever she wants so I won’t stress, but this can’t go on.”
I straightened in my chair. “What can’t go on?”
Jill swallowed and looked tense, as if she was girding herself for something terrible. I hated seeing her so upset so I reached across the table and took her hand.
She looked up at me and blinked back tears. “I lied to you guys.”
Angela patted her shoulder. “About the husband sitting. We know.” She looked around at Fritha and I, her own eyes suspiciously damp. “There was nothing to forgive in the first place, and we’re all over our reactions now anyway, aren’t we?”
Fritha and I murmured agreement, but if anything, Jill became even more tense.
“I wasn’t saving to buy my own home. I did it for Brittany,” she said softly, staring down at the table, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at us while she spoke. “She ran off to Bangkok for cheap breast implants that got infected. The hospital bill was $120,000 Australian. If I didn’t pay it, they were going to throw her in jail.”
Stunned silence followed as I felt outrage start to boil inside me.
Fritha growled, a very un-Fritha-like sound. “Little bitch,” she spat. “That fucking ungrateful—”
I had the presence of mind to nudge her with my shoulder and she stopped.
Jill’s hand had gone limp inside mine, and her shoulders were slumped. It was as if all the life had gone out of her. Still, the outrage inside me was building and I had to ask, “You knew I had the money. Why would you prostitute yourself instead of asking me?”
Jill withdrew her hand and Angela frowned at me but I waited. At last Jill lifted her head and met my gaze. “Because our friendship is too important to me.”
Before I could stop myself, my own eyes stung with tears. “What part of I’m here for you, don’t you understand?”
Jill shook her head. “I’m a fuckwit. What can I say?”
Angela swallowed down her own upset to say, “What is she asking for now?”
I sucked in a steadying breath, glad that someone was moving the conversation forward. If we stayed back with Jill suffering so needlessly for that brat of a girl, I might have said something I’d regret.
“Money.” Jill shook her head again. “It’s always money.”
Fritha spoke up at last. “Why do you even bother with her? Tell her to fuck off.”
“I’m all she’s got.”
There was silence then. We all knew that Jill’s philandering father had run out on her dying mother. At the tender age of ten, Jill had run the household until they’d been kicked out of their rental home. After months of sleeping on various couches, their grandma had come to town and taken over. Shortly after that, Jill’s mother had died.
The two girls had grown up with only each other to rely on, so we could all understand why Jill tried to ‘be there’ for Brittany. But enough was enough.
“You’re married now,” I said to Jill. “Things are different. You have Finn to protect.”
The other two frowned at me but I could see Jill was listening.
“Marriage isn’t just about love and sex and babies,” I went on, and gave her a you know I’m talking about myself here glance. “It’s about sharing your lives. All the tiny details. The great things. The sad things. The terrible things…”
Jill reached out and grabbed my hand.
“…and you can’t get through it unless you protect each other.”
She nodded for me to go on.
“Finn protected you from his divorce, which I’m sure was unpleasant. Now it’s your turn to protect him from Brittany.”
She clung tighter to my hand. “But I can’t divorce her.”
I nodded. “Yes you can. If you want a family with Finn, you have to draw boundaries, or your husband won’t be safe from the trouble she brings, and neither will your children.”
Angela gasped quietly, and even Fritha was silent.
“My children…” Jill whispered.
The last thing I wanted was to upset her more, but she clearly hadn’t realized what her tolerance had encouraged. “If you keep pandering to your sister’s emotional blackmail, the situation will only escalate. She’ll turn into a monster—”
Husband Heel (Husband #3) Page 14