by Aria Ford
“Okay! I have a taker,” Brett sounded pleased. “What about you, Cayley?”
“Ice-cream too?” she sounded hopeful.
“Skating and ice-cream,” he confirmed.
“Okay, daddy. That could be fun,” she said carefully. “Mummy?”
“I’ll come, but only if I can have hot cocoa afterward instead.” Reese laughed. “Like a sensible person.”
“Deal!” Brett said happily. He took a drink of coffee and turned to me. “Sis? What about you?”
I wasn’t going if Carson was. The last thing I needed was a morning with him, pretending to be cheerful. I looked expectantly across the table to where he sat, quiet, eating his breakfast. Brett seemed to catch my thought as he turned to Carson.
“Hey, Grant! What about you?”
Carson frowned. “Uh, no. Thanks, Brett. But I have to go to the store. Things to get before I go.”
“Okay,” Brett shrugged. “Amelia, that leaves you as the only undecided party.”
“I…” I paused. A thought had occurred to me. If the whole family and Carson were going out together, then that would give me an ideal opportunity to snoop around. I had to know if Carson was seeing another woman. Somehow, it had become like an obsession for me. If I knew the truth—whatever the truth turned out to be—I would be free. I cleared my throat. “I’ll stay.”
“Okay,” Brett said, brows raised. “If you want. So. Who’s getting ready for skiing?”
“Brett, calm down! I haven’t finished my breakfast yet,” Reese protested. I laughed.
“Brett has always been quick out of the starting blocks,” I laughed.
“Thank you, sis,” Brett said, grinning. “I do my best.”
“And your worst,” Reese observed dryly. He pulled a tongue at her.
“Okay,” Brett said, standing. “I’m going to go shower. At least then you won’t have to wait for me to get out,” he winked at Reese.
“Thoughtful of you,” she mused. We all laughed.
The kids finished their breakfast faster after that, and tumbled off in a happy heap to get ready for going out. Carson stretched and stood.
“I’m heading off.”
He was looking at Reese when he said it. He seemed to sense I was angry with him.
“Okay,” Reese shrugged. “I’m just enjoying a leisurely coffee without Mr. Quickly breathing down my neck.”
I grinned at her. “Brett is a bit of a whirlwind.”
“A bit?” she said dramatically. “Multiply that by ten.”
“A hundred,” I supplied.
While we were talking, Carson quietly went out. Reese excused herself and went upstairs to change and five minutes later I heard the front door softly shut. Carson had gone out.
Whew. That should give me about an hour.
When the family left, about twenty minutes later, I raced upstairs to Carson’s bedroom. I reckoned I didn’t have much time before he got back from the store. I stood in the doorway a moment, feeling strangely hesitant. I had never, ever snooped in someone’s stuff before. Privacy was something sacred to me. Especially the privacy of people I care about.
I looked around the room. A leather jacket was folded at the foot of the bed, where three bags stood: a small suitcase, a backpack and a tote-bag with a faded logo on it. He looked to be already packed and ready to leave.
The room smelled like him: musk and spice. There was a kind of hallowed silence about it and I hesitated to disturb the neat bags. Military-style precision, I thought. Weird to see how much it had changed his life.
I drew in another deep breath, shut the door behind me, and bent to open the suitcase.
Clothes. The scent of him grew stronger as I riffled through fleecy tracksuits, crisp shirts and a pair of smart trousers. There was a scarf and a hat and a white bath-towel. Nothing else.
Okay. Nothing suspicious in there.
The tote-bag was basically empty. I found a shower caddy and ear-plugs and a spare deodorant. Axe body spray. I grinned. I didn’t know that was what he used. Still no sign of any other woman.
Okay. If there’s nothing in the backpack, then I’ll decide I’m a needlessly suspicious woman and try and move on.
I drew in another breath and unzipped the backpack, the sound loud in the silence.
I unrolled the woolly scarf from the top of the backpack and discovered a suspicious glint underneath it. Wrapping paper. There were Christmas gifts in here.
Why? Christmas has already happened. Who were these from? Or for?
I felt my heart beating fast. Without wanting to, as if my hands moved of their own will and not my own, I lifted the gifts out of the bag, one by one. There were three of them. The one was soft and probably contained something made of cloth. The other was hard and could have been a book, or chocolate. The third was a small, squarish shape with a slogan from a department store on the fancy gold ribbon that surrounded it. Perfume, I guessed. Or a box with jewelry in it.
Oh, God. These gifts were for a woman. I just knew it.
Something about the muted wrapping, the nature of the gifts—clothing, chocolates, perfume—suggested they were for a woman. I put my hand into the rucksack and felt around. There was a torch, a spanner, some string. And a card.
The card wasn’t sealed, so I opened it. A happy snow-scene on the front suggested it was a Christmas card. I opened the flap to find neat, oval handwriting. Carson’s hand.
Dear Leona, I read. I am sorry I couldn’t be there with you for Christmas. It would have been great. Hope you like the gifts.
It wasn’t signed by name, just three letters: xox. Kisses and a hug.
I put the card back in its cover. Put it in the bag. Put the presents back in the reverse order to that in which I’d taken them out. Put the scarf on top. My hands were working on autopilot. I zipped the bag, stood and left the room. I closed the door, went into my room and cried.
I cried and cried. The tears ran down my cheeks and the mucus ran from my nose and I rocked myself, crying. Somewhere inside me my heart was numb.
Oh, Carson, I thought sadly. You dear, awful, loveable, cruel asshole.
I couldn’t actually hate him. He was too loveable for that. But I did hate him—I hated him for hurting me, and for doing it so childishly. Did he really think that I wouldn’t find out? That his clumsy attempts at covering things up would fool me? Of course I was going to find out.
At least she only gets department-store presents, I thought wildly. I got something nicer.
I laughed at myself. Come on, Amelia. The point is he lied to you. He acted as if he was single and he wasn’t. What does that mean he thinks about you? That you are just there for his use? How dare he treat me like that?
I was trying to make myself angry with him; trying hard to make myself hate him. It wasn’t actually going to work, I knew it. I had loved him, silently, deeply and inside, for decades. But if I didn’t hate him, I would hate myself. I groaned.
You cruel man.
I couldn’t think anything other than that. He was cruel to have treated me this way. Cruel to have given me his love and then retracted it like this. Cruel to have made me love him back.
I sniffed. He didn’t make me love him. I always had loved him. From the moment Brett brought him back to the house, all tall and dark and quiet. I loved him then and I still loved him now. Only now, he had hurt me.
I stiffened. The front door was opening. I recognized the way it stuck a little and then juddered on the hinges as it was pushed inward. Someone cleaned their boots on the doormat and walked in, hung a coat on the rack by the door, the buttons clicking on the metal pole of the coat-rack.
Please, let that not be him. My whole body stiffened.
“Hey, Reese! You think I should go shopping now?”
Brett. I sighed with relief. At least I wouldn’t have to hide up here alone with Carson next door, trying to fight the urge to cry loudly, or confront him, or leave.
“No,” my sister-in-law replied quietl
y. “It’s okay. We’ve got a pumpkin in the pantry—we could make supper around that.”
“Okay,” Brett called cheerfully. “So, kids! Who wants to see photos from the skating?”
“Me!” Cayley yelled happily. “Did you see me turn? I did turns like a ballerina!”
I smiled. It was good to hear the kids in such high spirits. I sighed and stood from where I had been crouched on the floor. Checked my face. My makeup was all streaky and my eyes were red. The swelling round my eyes wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t cover it up with makeup, which was good, because I didn’t want anyone asking me about why I was sad. I washed my face, took a good five minutes to reapply my makeup and headed downstairs.
In the sitting room, I found Brett with the two kids, looking at his tablet. Reese was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. I felt bad—I should have done that while they were out.
“So, how was the skating?” I asked, coming to help.
Reese pulled a face. “I fell on my bottom. The kids loved it, though.”
“You were good, Mommy,” Cayley objected from the lounge.
Reese smiled at me. “My guardian angels,” she said lovingly. I nodded. The kids were both very emotionally aware. I often felt like they were the adults in this picture. I wished I could have taken more care of my own feelings. My heart was broken.
“They’re amazing,” I agreed, bending and shutting the dishwasher.
“I don’t know what I did without them,” Reese smiled. “Um, Mel? Are you okay?”
I sniffed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said firmly.
She raised a brow but said nothing. “Are you okay with salmon for lunch?”
“Are you kidding?” I laughed. “That sounds awesome!”
She smiled. “Good. That’s settled. We can send Brett to the store to buy it.”
I grinned. “Let’s go and ask him…I’d pay to see the look on his face when you tell him you’re sending him into the cold.”
Laughing, we left the kitchen together. In the hallway, I bumped into Carson.
He was turning to hang up his coat and I wasn’t looking where I was going. He looked down into my eyes and I looked up into his.
We were wordless for a moment. My body ached for his touch, but my mind was in torment. Come away, it told me. He doesn’t love you. He loves someone else. Forget him.
I drew in a shaky breath. Let my eyes go blank. Walked past him up the hall. I didn’t look for long enough to see what he would do, but I saw his brown eyes cloud over with confusion. He looked hurt.
Seeing him hurt was at once a pain and a little satisfaction. Good. Now you know how I feel.
He didn’t, of course. I hadn’t and couldn’t do to him what he had done to me. And it wouldn’t have helped either of us if I could.
I walked away up the stairs and shut my door. Then, slowly and systematically, I started to pack. I was leaving this evening anyway. He would probably leave after lunch. I would walk out of this place, I told myself as I savagely stuffed my jerseys and shoes into my suitcase. I would walk out and not think of him again. I would never look back.
My hands closed around the gold locket where it lay where I had hidden it and I closed my eyes, feeling fresh tears slide down my cheeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Carson
I went back up to my room to pack. Then I went back downstairs. I could hear Brett in the kitchen, making lunch. I wanted to talk with him before I left, so I went in.
“Brett?”
“Hey, Grant!” he called cheerfully, using my surname as he had done. “How are you doing?”
“Okay,” I said, sitting down at the table. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Not really,” he said. “The salmon is in the oven, doing what it does. Amelia’s just gone to fetch the parsley from the garden, so…”
“Oh?” I stood. Somehow I didn’t want to come face to face with Amelia right now. The way she had looked through me in the hallway had scared me. Even though I spent the last few days doing my best to try and push her away—making a real hash about it, I had to admit—I hadn’t expected how bad it would be when it really worked.
“What’s up, brother?” Brett asked, looking confused. “Did I say something wrong?”
“N…no,” I stammered. Just then the kitchen door opened. Amelia appeared. With her cheeks red from cold, her hair loose and shiny, cleaning her boots on the doorstep, she was beautiful.
“Brett? Is about a handful enough?”
“Sure,” my friend said obliviously. “Put them at the sink, will you?”
“Okay,” she said. Then she saw me. She looked surprised, then that shutter came down over her eyes again. I winced.
“I should be going, Brett,” I said quickly.
“Okay,” he said, looking suspiciously at me. “But wouldn’t you like…”
At that moment, my phone vibrated. Then rang. I pulled it out of my pocket. Oh, heck. I need to take this call.
“Sorry, Brett,” I said quickly, pressing the answer button. “Hey, sweetie!” I said. I walked quickly out of the kitchen door and into the hallway, then upstairs.
When the call was over, I closed my eyes, worried. I had planned to leave this afternoon, but it seemed like I’d have to stay another night. I hoped Brett and his family would be okay with that.
I went down to the kitchen. “Brett?”
“Yeah?” my friend was on his knees by the oven, looking in on the salmon. He looked up at me.
“I…I’m sorry, brother, but I…would it be possible to stay for another night?”
He blinked at me. “Sure. Why not? Are you okay? I mean…”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay,” he said mildly. “Well, I think we need to give these guys a couple more minutes, then we should be able to eat. Have you seen Amelia anywhere?”
“No,” I said quickly. That was the one topic I didn’t want to think about. Anything about Amelia was like stabbing my heart.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Josh said, appearing suddenly in the kitchen. His father laughed and ruffled his hair.
“I think it’s almost done, Josh,” he said gently.
“Would you like to do some fencing?” I suggested as the little boy’s face fell.
“Yes!” Josh said, brightening again. “Can we go up to your room?”
“Well, it’s your room, actually, Josh,” I pointed out kindly as we went upstairs together. I grabbed the broom-handle from behind the front door—my saber—as I passed.
“I suppose so,” Josh said mildly.
We went through the basic blocks together, he with his toy saber, and me with my broom-handle. The little boy frowned with concentration as I showed him a lunge and he practiced over and over to get it right. I sat on the bed while he was occupied. I felt miserable. After a minute of earnest practice in front of the mirror, he dropped the sword and looked at me.
“Carson, why are you so sad?”
I closed my eyes. “You noticed,” I said mildly.
“Sure, I noticed,” he said, coming to sit beside me on the bed. I sighed.
“I’m okay, Josh,” I said sadly. “It’s just…some trouble has come up and I won’t be able to go home before tomorrow.”
“Really?” Josh said brightly. “That’s nice.”
I was touched. I blinked rapidly and ruffled the little boy’s hair. “Aw. You’re great, Josh,” I said.
He looked up at me with admiration. “Thanks.”
Now I really was in danger of tearing up. I stood and went to the window. On top of all the emotional upheaval of the last week, his honest, unconditional care was more than I could handle. I sniffed and then, when I had gotten a hold of myself again, turned around.
“Do you think your dad has finished cooking lunch yet?” I said with a credibly even voice.
“I think we should go see.”
We went downstairs to the kitchen together. Reese was setting the table
and Cayley was already seated. Brett was at the stove, stirring sauce.
“Are we ready?” I asked.
“All set,” Brett declared positively.
I took a seat as far away from where Amelia usually sat as I could find. Josh sat down next to me. When Reese came and sat down too, in Amelia’s usual place, I was surprised.
“Is Amelia still here?” I asked, feeling a sudden panic that she might have left without saying goodbye.
Brett looked uncomfortable. Reese blinked. “She’s feeling ill,” she said smoothly. “She won’t be joining us.”
“Oh,” I said awkwardly. I wasn’t sure what to say so I didn’t say anything.
“So you’re staying with us tonight, Carson?” Josh asked me.
“That’s right,” I agreed.
Cayley looked at me with a frown. “I thought you were going today?”
I grinned wryly. “You seem eager to be rid of me?”
“No!” Cayley looked mortified and I felt bad. “I just got confused.”
“I didn’t really think you were excited to be rid of me,” I said consolingly. “I just got held up. Change of plans. Sorry, Reese,” I added mildly.
“Not at all,” Reese said calmly. “Now. Where’s this lunch going?”