Still no sign that she had ever heard of him.
Why did that surprise him? Just because Adeline had spent a week with his family didn’t mean she’d spoken to her family about him.
As they moved deeper into the house he realized why Adeline looked like an extra on a building site.
They were moving.
A kernel of something unpleasant unfurled in his gut.
She hadn’t mentioned this. She’d only spoken about her house in passing, but it had been with a sense of love.
My house is like that, she’d said, when he’d spoken of his love for the island. The memories that ghosted through these walls for her. Memories of her father and brother. Another twisting of the knife as the enormity of what he’d done sunk through him.
“You’re moving?” He asked Sylvie conversationally, as they neared the kitchen, the question giving no indication of his inner-turmoil. It was just the bare bones, a few mugs on the side of the sink, a kettle. The windows looked out over another very charming garden, with a small pond at the back.
Sylvie’s cheeks paled and she nodded, stepping away from him. Emotions were thick in the air.
“After thirty years,” she said, finally, putting her at slightly older than Guy had guessed. “I never thought I would.”
Addie’s smile was overbright as she sloshed water into the mugs. “It’s time for a new adventure, mum.” She lifted the teabags out, one by one, but stood for a moment staring at the drinks, bracing herself on the edge of the counter.
Guy ached to reach out for her, to comfort her. She was in pain, and he wanted to take it away. How ironic, given that he’d spent a significant portion of their relationship inflicting emotional wounds on her.
“Tea done?” Sylvie asked, moving over and lifting one up without waiting for an answer. “I’ll get back to the pictures. I’ll just wrap them all for now, shall I, love?”
Addie didn’t say anything.
“Darling? The pictures?”
“Oh.” Addie nodded, another weak smile on her face. “Yeah. I’ll sort them once I… later.”
Sylvie nodded, taking herself and her tea from the room.
They were alone, and Guy, uncharacteristically, had no idea what to say. He stared at Addie for a long moment and then moved closer, his expression grim.
“You’ve sold your house.” He didn’t even want to follow that thought through. There was only one reason for her to sell the house – she still needed money. She’d sold the house rather than accept his cheque.
She’d sold somewhere that was a beacon of her childhood, filled with important memories, because she preferred that to accepting his help.
Except he hadn’t offered help. His eyes swept shut for a moment. He’d offered money in exchange for more lies. For sex. He’d trapped her on an island and he’d made her miserable in every way at his disposal.
“Yes.” Addie’s response was softly spoken but it might as well have been shouted against Guy’s heart.
“Why?” He asked, the question heavy between them. He propped his hips against the counter, so close he could catch the faintest hint of her sweet vanilla fragrance.
She didn’t look straight at him, and her evasion was beyond frustrating. “Because it was time for a change. What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t bank the cheque.”
She stared straight ahead, her eyes heavy on the garden beyond, but he suspected she wasn’t really looking.
“So?”
“You sold the house instead.”
A delicate pulse trebled at her jaw. “It’s not really any of your business.”
He nodded, but every fiber of his being pushed back against that summation. Of course it was his business.
“Am I going to be able to take my phone?” Sylvie’s voice came through to them from a distant room. “Will I need a charger?”
Adeline shook her head. “No, mum,” she called, swallowing. “No phones.”
Guy had about three thousand questions he wanted answered. “Where is she going?”
Adeline pressed her lips together. “It doesn’t matter.” She curled her fingers around the tea cup and moved to the other corner of the kitchen. With the distance, she apparently found it easier to look at him.
In fact, she stared at him unflinchingly.
“Adeline,” he said softly. “I need you to tell me why you returned the cheque.”
She sipped her drink. “Is it important?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” His expression was one of frustration. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Of course it does,” she contradicted. “I couldn’t take your money.”
“You came and asked me for it,” he reminded her.
“Yes.” Tears filled her eyes and his gut twisted painfully. He didn’t want her to cry. His insides screamed at her visible agony; he wanted her to laugh again, like she had in London. Like they had.
“I came and asked you for help. If you’d … I asked you as … I suppose, as a friend. As someone who cared for me. I needed your help, Guy. But as soon as it became payment for … payment …” she squeezed her eyes shut. “I was never going to take it,” she said, dipping her head forward. “From the moment you made it a quid pro quo, I knew I wouldn’t accept it.”
Only the skills he’d learned in the boardroom enabled him to keep a neutral expression. “That was before we went to the island.”
“I know that.”
A small flicker of doubt crossed his face. “So why come then?”
Addie sipped her tea. “Why do you think?”
“I have no idea, Ava.”
She paled visibly.
“Adeline,” he corrected swiftly, mentally kicking himself. “I have no idea.”
“It was a week with you.” The words were whispered so quietly that he barely caught them. “And I would have done anything for that.”
Guy’s heart was twisting in his chest, ripping at his insides. “Why?”
“Because I loved you, and I thought you would remember that you loved me, too,” she said simply. “None of which is relevant anymore.” She straightened, and her face was wiped of emotion. “I’d like you to go now.”
He stared at her, the world spinning way too fast. “No.”
“What about nail polish?” Sylvie appeared at the door now, holding a bag of cosmetics.
Addie pulled herself together, flashing her mother an encouraging smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “They’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I think the letter said something about it…”
“No, mum. Nail polish is fine,” Addie promised her mother with a small nod. “No phones. No alcohol. No scissors.”
“I thought…”
“It’s fine,” Addie’s voice was terse. She softened it with a smile. “I’ll come help you in a minute, okay? Guy’s just about to leave.”
“Oh, very good, dear. Nice to meet you.” Sylvie said as she disappeared from the room.
“Where is your mother going?” He pushed, moving closer.
Adeline drained her tea and then placed the cup in the sink. She stared at the garden once more, a complex knot of emotions chasing themselves over her face.
“She’s going to a rehab facility,” she said after a heavy pause.
“Rehab?” Surprise burst inside him. “She’s an alcoholic?”
“No.” Her eyes were heavy with feelings. She looked up at him, and then looked through him. “Please leave.”
“I want to know,” he said, lifting his hands to his forearms. “I want … to help.”
The sob that bubbled out of her cut through him like a shard of glass. “It’s too late to help.”
“I don’t believe that,” he shook his head, speaking gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Addie’s voice quivered with her sadness. “Guy, there’s no need. I’ve fixed this. I’ve worked it out.”
“By selling y
our house?” He demanded, his tone soft even when there was urgency in his words. “Why? Why did you need the money?” His mind moved over the information he had, and found there wasn’t enough to connect the dots. Unless the rehab facility was incredibly expensive? “Is it the cost of the programme she’s going into? Is that why you needed the money?” He hoped she would say no. He wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt of that revelation. To know that was why she’d come to him and he’d used her desperation to manouever her into his bed.
“Not really.” She swallowed, and then sighed, as if mentally accepting that the only way to get rid of Guy was to be honest. “Mum has a gambling problem.” She kept her eyes lowered. “It started after they died.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped at it, a small groan of impatience. “Just a flutter, at first, but before long, it was high-stakes. The house, which my parents had owned outright, had to be mortgaged.” She pulled away from him, and continued speaking in an almost robotic voice, as if forcibly keeping her emotions at bay.
“I didn’t know.” She lifted her shoulders. “I mean, all through high school, I didn’t know. I only found out a week before I was meant to go to Bristol, to study.”
He nodded. So that part had been true, about her winning a scholarship to study drama.
“It would have been my first time living away from home,” she said softly. “I wanted to apply for a small credit card, just for emergencies.”
“Of course,” he murmured, not willing to risk saying anything else in case it stalled her.
“My application was rejected because of my poor credit history.”
“What?” He stared at her in confusion.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Addie was instantly defensive. “She has a problem. An addiction. It’s a real thing. It’s not a choice, it’s a disease.” Her glare was a warning not to be critical of the mother she clearly adored.
“She borrowed in your name?” He clarified, needing to understand exactly what he was dealing with.
“As soon as I turned eighteen, she took out a line of credit. She maxed it within a week,” Addie winced.
“Hell.” Guy hadn’t, in a million years, thought any of this to be the case. But how could he have? He hadn’t thought beyond his own prejudices and resentments; he hadn’t given her even the smallest chance to explain.
“It’s why I worked nights. I needed to be here to keep an eye on her during the day. But then, she stopped sleeping altogether, downloaded gambling apps on her phone. When I took that away she bought a new one. I’ve never seen someone run up such huge debts so quickly.” Addie’s words were measured, but Guy knew the emotions that were behind them. He felt her grief. “My credit card is at its limit. I literally use my pay cheque to pay it down each week, but I can never get ahead. I tried for so long, Guy. I tried to keep it together. For dad and for Chris.” She swept her eyes shut. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Not at the rate she runs up debt.”
“How can she keep getting in debt? Can you not limit her access to funds?”
Adeline jerked her head. “I did. Then she went and borrowed it from … well, less than savoury money lenders.” A shiver ran down her spine and an answering need to protect Adeline took hold of him. “They weren’t exactly willing to negotiate a payment plan.”
“For God’s sake, Adeline,” he stared at her for a piercing moment and then closed the distance between them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t want to talk about the past. You didn’t want me to explain.”
The accusation was a noose, tightening around his throat. Because she was right and he could see now how completely he’d failed her. “I mean back then.” The words were graveled. “In London.”
She looked at him and then shifted her gaze over his shoulder. “Because I was ashamed. And I knew mum wouldn’t want anyone to know.” The words were simple enough but they stretched his insides painfully. The words had a heaviness to them that moved straight into Guy’s chest and hollowed it out. “And you were just so perfect … how could I tell you what a mess my life was in? How could I tell you about my mum, or any of this, knowing that you might think it was why I was with you?” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I lied to you, but it was only because I was so scared of what the truth would do to us.” She sobbed and then shook her head, desperately trying to bring her emotions under control. “And I … I liked the way I was with you. I liked the way it felt being Ava.”
“Adeline,” he cupped her face.
She glared at him and made a throaty sound of surrender. “No!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend.”
“I wanted you to have that money,” he said.
“How could I take it?” She demanded. “I’d do anything rather than have you think me capable of that.” They were quiet for a moment. “Now that you know, would you please leave me alone? I have the moving truck arriving in two hours and too much to do to walk down memory lane with you.”
“Let me help you,” he said insistently.
“I told you, I don’t want your money.” The words were flung at him with fury.
And he understood – it was too late. He couldn’t make amends so easily – a cheque wouldn’t cut it. He had to start slowly. To try anything. “I mean with the move. Let me help you box things.”
But Addie was adamant. “No.” She shook her head. “I need you to go, Guy. Please. I can’t … Today is hard enough. I can’t deal with you as well.”
His breath was burning his lungs. “That day on the boat…”
“Don’t.” Her eyes were begging him to stop. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“I was so angry. I’ve been angry with you since London. Since that night at the restaurant.”
“I know.” She swallowed.
“But I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Her expression showed impatience. “You feel guilty.” Her shrug was small. “But you don’t need to. This is my life. I never should have asked you for help. It was never your responsibility to fix this for me.”
“It was!” He contradicted forcefully. “Everything about you became my responsibility from the moment we met. My God, Adeline, I’ve let my own stupid hang ups colour me this whole time, my whole life. Because Maria lied to me, I’ve been so sure all women are liars.”
“I did lie to you,” Adeline pointed out stiffly, moving away from him.
But he caught her wrist, and pulled her back, holding her close, so close that she could feel his warmth. “You were caught in a lie,” he corrected. “And you didn’t know how to get out of it. It’s not the same as willingly deceiving.”
She had tried to tell him that again and again. Hearing the admission on his lips, now, when it was too late, was a painful balm.
“It doesn’t matter.” She pulled her wrist free. “When we were first together, I used to think that us meeting the way we did, on the anniversary of the crash, when I was at such a low… I know it sounds foolish, but I used to think that you were a gift from heaven. That perhaps my father and brother, or some guardian angel – I don’t know – that someone had brought you into my life, knowing you were just exactly what I needed.” She made a guttural noise of rejection. “It’s stupid. So stupid.” She pulled herself back to the present, ignoring the pang in her heart. “What we were … it’s over. It’s … broken.”
His eyes swept shut. He was dropping off the edge of a cliff, in free-fall. “It can’t be.” He stared into her eyes and wrapped his hands behind her back, holding her to him. “You’re the first and only woman I’ve ever loved. And I plan on loving you for the rest of my life. So this, what we are, it can’t be broken.”
She stared up at him for a long time, consternation obvious on her features before she pushed away from him, breaking the circle of his arms. “You don’t love me.”
“I beg to differ,” he said firmly.
“You can’t love someone and hurt th
em like you did me. You threw me out of your life.”
His stomach clenched. He had done that. He’d unceremoniously dumped her when their week together had come to an end. The sight of her face that day, tormented and miserable, was something he would never forget. “Something I am so sorry for,” he said heavily. “Something I regret. Something I wish I could undo.” He moved closer. “But I do love you.”
Addie nodded, yet Guy could see that she was mentally pulling away. That she was pushing him from her. Sure enough, when she spoke, it was with finality.
“When I came to ask for your help, you told me that I’d killed whatever you felt for me.”
“Addie --,”
She held a hand up to stall his interruption. “And I remember thinking, at the time, what an absurd notion that was. You can’t kill love. Not our love. Not what we shared. It was too robust and strong, surely. Too special and rare.” She swallowed, her throat lined with razor blades. “But then I spent a week with you in Spain, and every single day, you did just that. You killed what I felt.” She blinked, not able to focus on his face for the tears that were clogging her eyes. “It’s done, Guy. There’s no sense rehashing any of it now.”
The last time Guy had cried he’d been eight years old and his dog had been run over before his eyes. Yet he felt an odd welling of emotion in his chest; a heaviness that wrapped around him, constricting his breathing.
“You were right the first time. You can’t kill love. Not our love.”
“For God’s sake!” She pushed at his chest, and he felt her emotions snap, like the wall of a dam breaking. “No!”
Her breath was loud and fast.
“No?” He said, lifting a hand and catching her wrist, rubbing it gently, hoping to reassure her.
“No, you don’t get to come back after this many weeks! Just because of the damned cheque! Because now you have some kind of tangible proof that I’m not after you for your money? You shouldn’t have needed proof! I loved you. I needed you.” She blinked, as if waking from a dream. “But I don’t anymore.”
“I need you,” he said softly, quietly. “I need you to watch horror movies with, to bring you peppermint tea in bed every morning for the rest of our lives, I need to run with you, to swim in pirate caves with you, to be with you, to love you, Adeline, forever.”
Claiming his Secret Baby & Blackmailed by the Spaniard (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 4) Page 35