Nothing Lasts Forever (The Montebellos Book 4)

by Clare Connelly

  He stared down at her, and she felt something shift between them, the air sparking with renewed frustration.

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “That’s what I do.”

  “So how come it’s okay for you and not me?”

  “Because I’m happy.” He caught her chin and lifted her face, as he’d done so many times. Her eyes clashed with his and her footing felt unsteady. “Can you say the same thing?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  WHY WASN’T HE JUST letting her go? This was easy. Obvious. It was always meant to be temporary and she was completely right – Yaya didn’t need her anymore. So what? Did he need her? How twisted was that? Raf didn’t need anyone. He never had, and never would.

  But the way she was living her life infuriated him, that was all. How could such a beautiful, kind, loving woman be so determined to push everyone away?

  “This is the way it has to be.”

  “Because he died,” Raf intoned flatly, wondering at the zip of something low in his gut.

  She pulled her long blonde hair over one shoulder so he caught a hint of the coconut smell and memories of last night swarmed him. How was it already time to say goodbye?

  She nodded slowly. “Because Thom died.” It was a whisper, and then her eyes swept shut. “And because I loved him, and promised him I always would.”

  Another twist in his abdomen. “So you demonstrate that love by performing acts of self-denial?”

  A small sound. A sob? God, why couldn’t he just let her go? He didn’t want to hurt her. Hadn’t he promised this would be fun?

  “Please don’t do this.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “Please don’t fight with me.” She bit down on her lip and he felt bricks of regret forming. “I’m sorry if you were surprised by the timing this morning, but you need to respect my decision.”

  Respect her decision. It was a done deal. There was no changing her mind. Besides, why did he want to? Lauren had been upfront with him. He’d been honest with her.

  “Maybe I was wrong,” he said quietly.

  She blinked and he ached to kiss her, or maybe he ached with the knowledge that he’d kissed her for the last time.

  “This has run its course.” He cupped her cheek. “Look after yourself, Lauren.”

  Despite the fact it was summer, the weather in London, as she landed, was grey and cool. Lauren was glad. Her mood was bleak and the weather matched it.

  She hadn’t seen Raf again, not even to say goodbye. Their conversation in the salon had been the end, and it was appropriate, she supposed, that their relationship, or whatever it had been, should finish where it had begun.

  But God, it hurt. She arrived home in her tiny flat and looked around and saw everything as if for the first time.

  You’re existing. Not living.

  Even remembering his words had the power to sear her heart. She flinched as though he was throwing them at her again. The apartment was devoid of personal objects. A bed, a small dining table – just enough for two, not like the tables at Villa Fortune that had been large enough to fit a huge, loud, loving family, the kind of family to which she’d never belong. She ran her fingertips over the top of hers and then rested her hands on the back of the chair as though she needed its support to stay upright.

  She was used to being alone. She’d chosen this life, just like he said, but as the days morphed into night and then gave way to day again, she was almost paralysed by the sense of loneliness. She found it hard to eat. Hard to sleep. She felt as though she were grieving all over again, missing Thom, missing Raf, missing a part of herself that she suspected she’d never get back.

  She was bereft.

  A week went by and she didn’t accept any of the job offers made to her. She wasn’t ready. How could she emotionally support anyone? Part of her job required her to listen and understand; how could she listen to anything above the deafening desolation of her own heart?

  Her dad called. He said he wanted to discuss the book they’d been reading. Lauren couldn’t even remember the gist of it. She’d made an excuse and hung up. Her mum rang, suggested she’d come for a visit. Lauren dissuaded her with a vague explanation and got off the call as quickly as possible.

  Thom’s mother Ashley phoned. Lauren dodged the calls, a keening sense of guilt making it impossible for her to imagine speaking to the other woman.

  She spent a lot of time in bed. It was something she hadn’t done, even after Thom had died. She’d forced herself to get on with her life, or that’s how she’d seen it at the time, by throwing herself back into work. Was Raf right? Had she been living in a kind of emotional stasis all this time? By closing herself off to relationships had she also closed herself off to happiness?

  No.

  The two weren’t connected. How could they be? Whatever she and Raf had been doing had cut her deep. There was no happiness there. She had no doubt she would be better off right now if she’d never got involved with him.

  Two weeks after leaving Villa Fortune, a loud banging noise woke Lauren. It wasn’t early. In fact, it was past noon. She stared at her watch, frowned, and pushed out of bed, trying to remember the last time she’d seen another person. Not since the cab had pulled up at her door.

  For the briefest second she wondered if it would be Raf?

  Of course it wasn’t.

  Ashley stood on the other side, two takeaway coffee cups propped in a brown cardboard carry tray and a paper bag in her other hand. She was wearing a linen singlet top and jeans. Was it warm outside? Lauren frowned. She supposed it must be. It was still summer, wasn’t it?

  “Hey, Ash,” she cleared her throat. Her voice felt clogged from disuse. “What are you doing here?”

  “You haven’t been answering my calls.”

  “No,” Lauren searched for an excuse, then shrugged.

  Ashley’s eyes looked beyond Lauren. “May I come in?”

  “Oh, of course.” God, what must her flat look like?

  She opened the door wider and winced at what Ashley would be seeing. Dishes in the kitchen, a blanket rumpled on the sofa from where Lauren had been sleeping the day before. An ice cream carton on one of the side tables.

  “Here.” Ashley passed the coffee over, saying nothing about the state of the apartment.

  “Thank you.” Lauren took a sip to be polite. Her stomach groaned. She hadn’t eaten in a while and the hit of coffee didn’t sit well. She placed the cup down.

  “So?”

  Lauren pulled her hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through its ends, her eyes not holding Ashley’s.

  “So what?”

  “No, you don’t. I know you too well for that, young lady.”

  Despite the heavy sense of grief and guilt that sat around Lauren’s throat, Ashley’s turn of phrase brought a smile to her face. “Not so young anymore.”

  “I know you better than just about anyone. You’re like my own daughter, so don’t you stand there and tell me there’s nothing going on. We’re worried about you.”

  “We?” She nodded jerkily. Her parents. They were friends with Ashley; they’d been bonded by Thom’s death as much as anyone.

  Silence shifted between them, heavy and accusatory. Lauren reached for the coffee cup simply in an attempt to break the noiselessness.

  “I’m fine,” she said eventually.

  “Sure you are,” Ashley said with a shake of her head. “You’re fading away to nothing, you look like you haven’t washed your hair or slept in weeks, and more than that, I know you, Lauren. I know you. What’s happened?”

  Lauren shook her head, unable to put it into words, especially to this woman. “I can’t –,”

  “You know I love you. Tell me what’s happened.”

  And just like that, the floodgates opened and tears fell down Lauren’s cheeks unchecked. She dipped her head forward in a poor attempt to hide them but it didn’t work. Ashley’s arms folded around Lauren, wrapping her in just the hug she needed, so warm and accepting. She sobb
ed as she’d never done to Ashley – she’d always felt it was her place to be strong for her mother in law, rather than to indulge her own emotions. But now she cried, freely, openly, heavily and Ashley rubbed Lauren’s back and made soothing noises, calming, comforting, loving. Lauren sobbed again, shaking her head. It was too hard.

  She cried and then, without her consent, words began to tumble from her lips. “You know how much I loved Thom, Ash. He was my husband and I thought – I always meant – to love him until I died. I never wanted to meet someone else, and I wish, I wish –,”

  “Shhh, shhh,” Ashley murmured, running her hand over the back of Lauren’s head before pulling away so they could see one another’s faces. “You’re telling me you’ve met another man?”

  Lauren bit down on her lip, unable to say the words aloud.

  “And you feel guilty, because you think that means you somehow love Thom less?”

  Lauren squeezed her eyes shut.

  “You think that man, my son, the boy I raised to be good and noble and who loved you more than just about anything, would have expected you to stay single as some kind of tribute to your relationship?”

  Lauren kept her eyes closed.

  “You honestly think he would want that for you?”

  Her heart thundered.

  “All Thom ever wanted was to make you happy.”

  Lauren sobbed.

  “If the positions had been reversed, would you have wanted him to be alone?”

  Lauren blinked, looking at Ashley, shaking her head. “No.”

  “So why the hell have you been putting yourself through hell all these years? At first I thought it was just your work but lately your mum and I have been starting to wonder. I can’t believe you thought he would want this.”

  “It’s not just –,”

  “Or that loving someone else means you loved him any less or differently. Oh, Lauren, you were everything for Thom. You loved him in a way I will never forget. I’m his mum and I saw the pair of you, and how you supported him and cared for him – you were just a baby, eighteen years old, and you oversaw his medicine and his appointments. You. Not me. Because you insisted and he knew how much that mattered to you. You gave him everything you had and I’m grateful but please don’t martyr yourself in his memory. He wouldn’t want that and nor do I.”

  Tears ran down her cheeks. “Ash, you don’t understand, I promised I’d love him forever –,”

  “And you will.”

  “But how can I love him and love someone else at the same time?”

  “Oh, come on, Lauren. You know life’s not that simple. We don’t exist in a world of black and white, linear, perfect choices. There’s no way anything will diminish what you and Thom had; if you love someone else it will be a different love. Your relationship with that man will be completely different to what you shared with Thom, and that’s the way it’s meant to be.”

  Lauren felt the words shift inside of her but there was no pleasure in them, no light piercing the darkness. “It’s kind of you to say, but it doesn’t matter.” She swept her eyes shut.

  “How can you say that? You’re obviously miserable. If this has been stopping you from being with this other guy, then please put the worry aside. Thom would expect me to be here saying this to you. He’d expect me to push you into the other man’s arms, for God’s sake. Is he a good person? Does he make you happy?”

  Lauren sobbed. There was that word again. Happy.

  Yes, the truth was, Raf had made her happy. When she’d been with him she’d felt the happiest she’d been in a long time. But underneath it all there’d been a sense of worry too. She thought it was guilt because of Thom, and that had been a part of it, but far more important was the knowledge that Raf would never want more from her. Every moment they were together, Lauren had been falling more and more in love and that had never been on his radar.

  “None of this matters, Ashley. He – doesn’t love me. It was a one-sided thing.”

  Saying those words aloud were like having a knife twisted in her abdomen, but she also felt braver for the admission, as though she were claiming her grief, facing it head on.

  Maybe that was how she’d get through this?

  “Come on.” Raf growled the word as he pushed one arm higher, catching the outcrop with his fingertips, curling them over the hold just in time. His other hand fell away, the piece of rock he’d clung to crumbling. He found a new grip and took it, before looking down to see the rocks tumbling, disintegrating as they crashed lower, against the side of the cliff. He swore under his breath and looked back up, fixing his gaze on the top of this climb.

  He’d done this often enough to know the gruelling ache, but no two climbs were ever the same. Rocks changed, grass grew, weather conditions altered. Today was hot as hell, and the rocks were dry, some of them – apparently – crumbly from a prolonged heatwave. He pushed up, focussing on the top. Focussing on the agony that was in his arms and legs. Focussing on the mechanical motion of lifting his body, of carrying himself to the top of this cliff.

  Determination fired in his blood. He would conquer this.

  The cliff? Or Lauren?

  He grimaced. It had been one month. One month since she’d told Yaya she was leaving. One month since he’d confronted her in the salon. One month since she’d told him she didn’t see any point in staying.

  One month since he’d watched her walk away for the last time.

  And so?

  He was used to things ending with women. That was the way he lived his life. True, he was usually the one to walk away or say ‘when’, but that was a matter of semantics, wasn’t it? They had both agreed, on numerous occasions, that this would be temporary. And her job description was a grief counsellor. She helped people accept the inevitable after a poor health prognosis. Yaya had turned a corner. The stroke they’d all feared would prove fatal had been nothing of the sort. A month after Lauren left and Yaya was essentially back to normal, with the exception of a slight muscle weakness in her left hand, if she over-exerted herself.

  Lauren had been right to leave.

  So why the hell was he still fuming about it?

  Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

  Why did he find his fingers reaching for his phone – and especially at night time, when his memories of her were at their strongest – wanting to text her? No, not to text her. To call her and hear her voice. How was it possible he didn’t have a single photograph of her? A voice mail, a video, nothing tangible he could replay and take the edge off his need.

  His hand slipped again and he swore, knowing the risk of trying to climb while distracted. He had to put her out of his head or he’d do what she’d accused him of and fall to his death.

  He pushed higher, pausing for a moment when he had a good footing, holding the mountainside and waiting. It felt good to exert himself like this. No, it felt great.

  She was another man’s wife.

  He’d realised that a week or so after she’d left, when he still couldn’t unravel the way she’d left, as though escaping a fire that was burning her tail. She’d said she was leaving because Yaya was better but it had all happened so quickly and he got it: she felt like she was still married. Like she was having an affair. She’d turned Raf into the other man and guilt was eating her alive.

  He should have understood that better, assuaged her concerns or at least addressed them head on, but he’d been dealing with his own changing perceptions, his own addiction to her growing beyond all reason. He’d become obsessed by her. What other explanation was there for the way she flooded his mind and body at all hours? For the fact he’d moved to Villa Fortune – yes to keep an eye on Yaya but also so he could see more of Lauren?

  She’d bewitched him in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

  He scanned the rocks for his next grip and moved up, tired now, ready for the climb to be over. His arms shook as he took the next step.

  But the way they’d ended it had been all wron
g. He’d been angry, she’d been hurt. They’d argued and instead of telling her that their time had been an incredible gift he’d basically said ‘good riddance’.

  He groaned; the last thing he wanted to think about was the look on her face as he’d said their relationship had ‘run its course’.

  He paused, closing his eyes for a second, trapping her face in his mind and examining it, every little flicker in her eyes and on her features, burning through him now.

  He cursed again.

  After she’d left he’d told himself he was glad. Every day that passed, he’d thought, would bring him closer to normal. But the opposite was true. With every day that passed the more he felt as though a chasm was opening up in his chest, and he had no clue how to close it again.

  He would conquer this. He would. He pushed up but just as he did so a bird flew towards him and despite knowing better, in a moment of distraction, he lifted a hand to ward it off. His foot gave way; he was falling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Is this someone from the family you were with?

  She read the subject line of her dad’s email with a fluttering heart, picking up the coffee cups Ashley had brought the day before and discarding them in the bin as she clicked into the attachment.

  A newspaper article loaded up, and Lauren read it with a sinking feeling.

  ITALIAN BILLIONAIRE IN CLIFF-FALL

  There were scant details included. He’d fallen from a cliff on the family’s property in the Tuscan countryside and had been flown to a local hospital where he was in a critical condition. She read the small piece and pain spread through her chest, and all she could think was how stupid she’d been. How selfish. Raf might not love her but if anything happened to him and he hadn’t known how she’d felt, she would regret it forever. And she couldn’t – wouldn’t – let anything happen to him.

  She grabbed for her keys and passport as she ran to the door, pausing only to slip shoes onto her feet then hailed a cab at the corner near her home. The flight she booked from her phone as the car drove towards Heathrow.