Her words were swimming through his head. Juggling back and forth with the blackness and feelings of guilt. The horrible weight of responsibility.
It was almost as if someone had pushed a little button, flicked a switch somewhere inside him. He couldn’t think about the ‘right’ words to say.
He couldn’t think at all. He had to get this over with. Once Lexi knew the truth she would happily walk away.
‘Because it was my fault!’ he yelled.
The words echoed through the inky black night, carrying along the dark path and beyond.
Lexi flinched backwards, shock stamped all across her face.
There was silence. Iain couldn’t speak, he was surrounded by the steamy breath that he’d just shot out and his heart was pounding in his chest.
He said it. He’d got it out there. But instead of feeling the weight of relief he might have, he just wanted to crumple down into a ball. He’d lost his wife and children because of his selfish behaviour. Instead of protecting his family, he’d destroyed them completely. No wonder he had problems sleeping at night.
Lexi looked stunned. Her hand touched his sleeve. Her voice was quiet, almost whispering. ‘How? How can it be your fault? Your wife died during childbirth.’
He squeezed his eyes shut. ‘It’s my fault because Bonnie had wanted to give up IVF. We’d already had two attempts and she was done. She’d had enough.’ He opened his eyes again to face Lexi, pointing his finger at his chest. ‘It’s my fault because I persuaded her to give it one last go. We still had viable embryos. I wanted to give them a chance. I didn’t stop and think about the effects on Bonnie—mentally and physically. I was so fixated on getting a family. I thought with my love and support we would be fine.’
It was like scraping an iron claw down her back, digging it deep into her delicate flesh. He had no idea how much those words hurt. She didn’t believe it had been Iain’s fault for a second. But he’d just revealed how fixated he was on a family. A family she could never provide. Yet another reason to leave.
‘Are you honestly telling me that Bonnie was unhappy being pregnant?’
‘What? Of course not. She was delighted. She was over the moon to fall pregnant. And when we found out she was having twins it made everything she’d ever gone through seem worthwhile.’
‘So how does that make it your fault, Iain? Bonnie could have said no. She could have refused to be implanted again.’
‘But she did, Lexi. I persuaded her. I did.’ Even though he’d got the words out there, his frustration was still building in his chest. His voice was rising. ‘If I had left Bonnie alone she would still be here. If I hadn’t pushed for the final round of IVF Bonnie wouldn’t have died. She’d still be alive. Still here to breathe. Still here to do the things she loved with the people she loved. Instead, I see her every night in my dreams. I see the panic on her face as she realises something is wrong, something is very wrong. I watch the monitors around her as she starts to bleed out and her blood pressure plummets. Amidst the panic in the room I hear her whisper to save the babies as she squeezes my hand. She believed in me, Lexi. She trusted me to save our children.’
He leaned against the barrier to the Thames, putting his head in his hands. His legs were shaking. He was back in that brightly lit room again. Filled with more doctors and midwives than he’d ever imagined. Every time he turned he was in someone’s way. Watching the life drain out of his beloved wife, and watching the faces of the staff as they eventually delivered two still white babies.
‘I don’t deserve you, Lexi. I don’t deserve anyone.’ The words hissed out of his mouth.
He waited a moment then straightened up. Most of the anger had dissipated from his body, along with most of his energy. He stared at the black water. His shoulders sagged. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from the dark, churning water. It matched his mood. ‘You’ve no idea. To hear the words of the doctor telling you that he’s so sorry about your wife and your children.’ He turned to face her, to look into her blue eyes and catch the flutter of her sparkling dress in the cold breeze. His heart squeezed in his chest.
Lexi. His beautiful little butterfly. The first person he’d connected with in years. The first person he’d loved in years.
Words couldn’t begin to describe the rage he’d felt when he’d seen Jack with his hands on Lexi. He hadn’t been able to control himself. The red mist had just descended.
She was his. His. And he couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting her.
But what right did he have to defend her, a woman who could clearly defend herself?
And more importantly, what right did he have to expose her to his failings? He couldn’t protect the woman he loved. Life had already proved that.
He couldn’t do to her what he’d done to Bonnie. Lexi was the one bright thing in his life right now. He had to let her go. He couldn’t drag her down with him.
Lexi was the equivalent of a shooting star. He wanted her to reach for the moon and be free to fly. She deserved someone who could love her wholeheartedly and give her the attention she deserved. In his eyes she was more beautiful than she could ever imagine. Just her smile was enough for him. The smile that reached straight up from her heart and made her eyes sparkle.
But her eyes weren’t sparkling right now. Tears were marring her pretty face, tears of sadness and pity—pity he didn’t deserve.
He inhaled deeply. She had to understand this wasn’t about her at all. This was all about the encompassing guilt and grief that still filled him.
‘You’ve no idea what it’s like for the doctor to ask you if you had decided on names for your children.’
It was almost as if she could read his mind. She laid the palms of her hands on his chest. He felt his chest wall move against her. She knew. Lexi felt real empathy for people. It was the reason they reacted so well to her. Right now, she knew.
She knew how desperate he felt about naming his children without Bonnie. They’d had some provisional names but hadn’t agreed on any. To name them without her—to spend the rest of his life wondering if Bonnie would have agreed with his choices—had felt like the final nail on the single oak and two white matching coffins.
‘What did you call your children?’
She’d stayed exactly where she was. Touching him. Not running away in revulsion at his actions.
‘Isla and Ross.’ All he could see right now were the three red poppies etched on the grave.
Lexi nodded slowly. ‘They are beautiful names. I’m sure that Bonnie would have loved them.’ She looked up at him. ‘I can’t believe you’ve felt like this for the last few years. I can’t believe you’ve not spoken to anyone about this. It was not your fault, Iain. It wasn’t.’ She stepped back and put some distance between them. ‘I didn’t know Bonnie but she wouldn’t have blamed you for this. She wouldn’t have wanted you to be crippled by guilt. Bonnie loved you, Iain—she loved you. She wouldn’t have wanted this for you.’ She held her arms out. ‘She couldn’t possibly.’
And there she was, holding her arms open towards him. And after all that she’d said tonight, it was like an unspoken invitation. One that he just couldn’t take.
No matter how much he wanted to.
He stepped towards her. ‘It’s late. Let me walk you home.’
They stood under the streetlight and he could see the fleeting look in her eyes. The one that realised, no matter what he’d just revealed, there was no way forward for them. There was no noise. No sound. Just a drip of tears down her face.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at her. Otherwise he might cry too. Cry over the woman he’d already lost, and the woman he was about to lose.
‘I can’t offer you anything, Lexi. I’ve got nothing to give.’
He started to walk along the river path, giving her no option but to follow him or be left standing herself in the middle of the night. His gran would have killed him over his lack of manners. But right now he couldn’t even think straight.
<
br /> Her heels caught up with him and then slowed as she stopped herself from walking alongside him, deliberately leaving herself walking a few steps behind. Maybe it was better this way?
The streets of London had never seemed so long or so bleak. Every step seemed to go nowhere. All the streets looked the same. Her footsteps never wavered behind him. She didn’t try to touch him or talk to him again.
What must she think of him? A thought flashed through his mind. If she quit right now, Leo would kill him.
Lexi was doing a spectacular job at the clinic. And work was the one thing that gave her confidence in her abilities. Maybe he should quit? Maybe he should just leave to let Lexi get on with her life and meet someone new.
The pain in his stomach was so sudden it almost stopped him dead. Lexi with someone else. Was that really what he wanted? And if that was really what he wanted, why did he want to be sick here and now?
All of a sudden her door loomed in front of him. He heard her fumble for her key and slot it into the lock. He couldn’t even look at her.
She wasn’t his. He couldn’t hurt her any more. He had to get away. He caught one last whiff of her heady perfume, the one that had driven him nuts for weeks.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered as he walked away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE BIRDS WERE even earlier than usual, their singing causing thumps around her brain. She put her head under the pillow. But after a few minutes it hadn’t helped.
Last night she’d cried herself to sleep after drinking two glasses of wine. She was bundled up in the fleeciest pyjamas she owned. March was still cold in London. She couldn’t bear to wear one of the satin nightdresses she’d been wearing when she’d shared her bed with Iain. Even though they’d offered no warmth at all, she hadn’t needed it. She’d had Iain to cuddle up to.
Her stomach turned over. Iain. The look in his eyes last night. At one point she’d thought if she’d touched him, her big, burly, handsome Scotsman might crumble.
Her heart ached for him. Now it was all out there. Now she knew everything. And it was all her fault.
Why had she pushed him? What had it achieved?
She’d pushed him for information she could have lived without knowing. He blamed himself. He’d spent the last few years blaming himself.
What must that feel like? What must it feel like to wake up every day feeling responsible for the deaths of your wife and children? No wonder he’d never managed to have another relationship. No wonder he’d told her he couldn’t sleep at night.
Her stomach twisted again. There it was. His scent on her pillows. She was never going to be close enough to him to smell that again. She was never going to hold his hand. Feel his lips on hers. Feel his hands on her body.
She thumped her fist into the pillow. How could she work with him every day after all this? Some days he spent at Kate’s. But at some point every day he would be in the clinic. In her work space. Just waiting for an unsuspecting moment when they would run into one another.
Maybe she should find another job? She clenched her eyes tightly shut. She loved her job. More than loved it. It was one of the things she was most proud of. Her nomination for the award had just been the icing on the cake. Did she really want to leave the job she loved? Or could she really face having to see Iain on a daily basis? From what she knew of him, it would hurt him just as much as it hurt her.
She wrapped her hands around her stomach. Maybe this wasn’t emotional pain, maybe this was real pain. It certainly felt that way.
The alarm sounded next to her head and she flung her pillow at it as she swung her legs out of bed. Normally she jumped out of the bed in the morning, anxious to get to work. This definitely wasn’t going to be one of those days.
The sight that greeted her in the mirror wasn’t a good one. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, the dark circles under her eyes made her look ten years older. Smudges all over her face revealed that the last thing she’d been thinking about last night had been removing her make-up. Her hair was a tangled mess. She picked up a lock and dropped it again. She didn’t have a single hair product that could remedy this.
She switched on the shower. She wanted to wash everything away. All the questions she’d asked. All the things she’d been told. Every look of hurt and pain on Iain’s face.
He hadn’t even said goodbye last night. She’d just watched him walk back along the street with his head down.
She stepped into the shower. ‘Owwww!’ It was scalding. She stood in the corner of the cubicle and braved her hand underneath the flow to turn the dial. A few seconds later she stepped under the torrent of water, turning her face up to meet its blast.
Wash it all away. Wash it all away.
Seven gallons of conditioner and a tube of facial scrub later she stepped out. She pulled a sombre black suit from her cupboard, looked at it for a few minutes then flung it aside.
She reached in again, this time finding a form-fitting emerald-green dress. It was power dressing. And the last thing she felt like doing today.
She looked in the mirror again as she sat down to dry her hair. Her make-up lay across the dressing-table. She lifted her chin and looked again, determination flooding through her.
If this was the end and if she was going out, she was going out fighting.
This will be a good day. She kept repeating the words in her head like a mantra as she walked along the street. It stopped her from bursting into tears. She was going to have to get used to this. There was no getting away from it, she was going to have to see Iain every day at work whether it broke her heart or not.
The first time was always the hardest. And she was absolutely determined no one would see her cry. She was a professional.
She did her best to sweep though the reception area of the clinic as quickly as possible. ‘Hi, Lexi,’ Mel, one of the receptionists on duty, called. ‘I’m so sorry about last night.’
Her stiletto heels stopped abruptly. She spun round, trying to stop her mouth from gaping open. ‘What?’
Mel stood up and walked over towards her, a quizzical expression on her face. ‘The awards, of course. We all thought you should have won.’
The panic subsided. She could breathe again. Just as well really, because a few other staff had emerged and were all looking at her.
She pasted a smile on her face. ‘Oh, thanks for that. I was just happy to be there.’
Fiona, another receptionist, stood up from behind the desk and picked up a tabloid newspaper. ‘You made the headlines.’
Lexi felt her blood run cold. She moved over to the desk and looked at the front page. ‘Iain McKenzie’s secret love—Lexi Robbins’. She let out a strangled gasp. ‘What?’
Both receptionists laughed. ‘It’s a great picture, isn’t it?’ Mel gave her a sideways glance. ‘You do look like a couple, by the way. And how on earth did you get our Scotsman into a kilt? He looks good enough to eat.’
‘He phoned in this morning,’ said Fiona. ‘Something’s came up. Asked me to cancel his appointments this morning. He’s going to be stuck at the Lighthouse Hospital all day.’
Her mouth dried instantly. She couldn’t speak as her eyes scanned the article. ‘Can I keep this?’ she asked, trying not to crumple the paper beneath her grasp.
‘Sure, I’ll buy another one.’
‘Thanks.’ Her feet flew down the corridor until she reached her office and slammed the door behind her. No! This was the last thing she wanted.
In a way she felt a sense of relief. Iain wouldn’t be here today. She wouldn’t need to see him. She wouldn’t need to face him. Maybe he hadn’t even seen the paper—after all, she hadn’t until she’d come to work this morning.
She sat behind her desk. The first thing that caught her attention was the picture.
It was in full colour, showing off Lexi’s dress and Iain’s kilt in all their glory. But the thing that had obviously captured the photographer’s interest was the look that was passi
ng between them. It was there for the whole world to see.
They were both smiling, looking straight into each other’s eyes. Neither of them was looking at the camera. Iain’s hand was wrapped around her waist and with his other he was holding her hand—right in front of her stomach.
And with a look like that between them …
She put her head on the desk and groaned. This would be a disaster. She started to read.
Internet sensation Dr Iain McKenzie attended the Dakota Jefferson Awards last night with Lexi Robbins, daughter of supermodel Penelope Crosby and chat show host Steve Robbins. Speculation was rising last night regarding their relationship.
It was apparent they only had eyes for each other as they spent most of the evening together and sneaked off early after the awards. Lexi was dressed in an as yet unidentified stylish designer dress, with Iain in a black and white kilt, revealing more of his now famous physique.
Lexi and Iain work together at the Hunter Clinic in Harley Street and she was nominated for one of the PR awards. But maybe this is her biggest PR coup of all?
Lexi launched the commercial featuring Iain McKenzie just a few days ago and it currently has over nineteen million views on the internet. Not much is known about Iain McKenzie, a thirty-five-year-old reconstructive plastic surgeon from Edinburgh. He was widowed following the death of his wife Bonnie three years ago.
Maybe Lexi Robbins has caught the biggest catch of all?
Could this really be any worse? Wait until Iain saw it, it made her sound as if she’d deliberately set out to catch him—all for the sake of publicity. Too bad her heart only functioned around Iain and not her brain. She couldn’t have planned this if she’d tried.
The corners of her mouth turned up as she noticed a little picture down in the bottom corner of the piece. The one with her mother, her father and herself. Penelope would go ballistic. Of all the people in the world she’d expect to push her off the front page, Lexi would never be one. For the first time that day a tiny little surge of pleasure crept through her. It was childish, and she’d never say the words out loud, but just imagining the look on her mother’s face this morning would be pleasure enough. It would make up for almost being completely ignored last night.
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