Her Not-So-Secret Diary

by Anne Oliver

  Sophie’s idea wasn’t working.

  Sophie.

  It had been over three weeks since she’d left. Three fiercely frustrating weeks where he lay in bed at night and remembered how Sophie had looked on their last evening together. How she’d felt beside him—smooth and sexy and silky.

  Three long lean weeks where he didn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Where he clocked up a ridiculous number of hours in the office and still his workload increased—no surprise there because his efficiency was decreasing.

  He yanked open the filing cabinet beside his desk. Maybe he’d filed that report himself without reading it. Nope. He slammed the drawer shut again.

  Sophie.

  She’d smelled like summer and he found himself breathing deeply, as if he might conjure up the fragrance.

  He hadn’t contacted her but he knew she’d arrived safely because Pam had informed him. That had been a damn difficult day. It could only get better, right?

  Wrong.

  She’d left him. Them. There wasn’t a them, he reminded himself. He’d had his chance to tell her how he felt. Days. Weeks, even. He’d always known she was leaving, she’d always been open about her plans.

  She’d been honest about everything, except, it seemed, what mattered most.

  She loved him.

  She’d told him she loved him in the same breath she’d told him she couldn’t have children. His silence had hurt her, he knew. But how was a man supposed to get his head around that bomb two minutes before she left for the other side of the world?

  His open palm connected solidly with his desk. The registered packet that he’d signed for earlier today slipped a bit and caught his eye. He reached for it. The compact book slid out, he flipped to the first page and studied his photo. He’d never had a passport. Never needed one.

  Pam appeared in the doorway and she didn’t look happy. ‘Impeccable timing,’ he told her, leaning back in his chair, hands braced on the edge of his desk. ‘Shut the door, I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Good, because I have a few things to say to you too.’ In a firm but businesslike manner she closed the door and sat down opposite him. Shoved a hand through her unruly brown locks. ‘Does the word “resignation” mean anything to you?’

  He barked out a humourless laugh. Then stared at her. She hadn’t moved. Her mouth was flat, her eyes steady on his. ‘You’re serious.’ Straightening, he rolled his chair nearer and placed his hands on the desk.

  ‘Maybe I am. If you don’t sort yourself out, I won’t be the only one requesting that form.’

  A strange feeling slid through him and his heart thumped hard in his chest.

  ‘Excuses, stalling, evading,’ she went on. ‘They’ve never cut it with you, Jared, and they won’t cut it with me. You’re my friend as well as my boss, and Sophie’s as close as a sister.’

  She ran out of breath but he was the one who sat back as if he’d just run a marathon. He slid the legal document across the desk. ‘So what do you say to this, then? How would you like to try out the boss’s chair for a while?’

  She met his eyes. ‘Fine by me, but I’ll need a raise.’

  ‘You got it.’

  She nodded, a smile chasing away the worry lines. ‘That’s the Jared I know.’ Rising, she kissed him on the cheek and closed the door softly behind her on her way out.

  He sat there and made lists, contacted clients, postponed projects while the sky turned from blue to apricot rose to aqua. He was still there when lavender had long turned indigo and a shimmering gold staircase on the sea pointed the way to a full moon rising.

  Then he picked up the phone and called Liss. ‘I know it’s an imposition but I was wondering if you could stay over at the house for a bit and look after Angus. I’m taking a trip.’

  When Sophie clicked into her inbox after her late shift a couple of nights later she saw the email she’d hoped for, waited for, dreaded. Her hands stilled on the keyboard, her breath hitched and everything, everything seemed to stop. Why now after all these weeks?

  She blinked to make sure she hadn’t imagined it, but there it was. ‘Jared Sanderson’ in bold black print. Flagged as high priority with a document with the enigmatic title of ‘rustymag-pie’ attached.

  Torn between elation and despair, she chewed on her lip while one finger trembled above the delete key. She could kill it with one click of a button. Any contact would jab at the still-raw wound in her heart and set her back by weeks.

  Just this unopened email had the power to hurt simply by its very existence. Because she loved him and she’d opened her heart and told him everything and he’d rejected her. It could only be rejection, because he’d made no attempt to contact her. Nor did she expect him to. She’d not been honest with him until too late. She’d wanted him close as long as she could have him. Selfish. Thoughtless. No better than Bianca.

  But like a chocoholic craving her next double-dipped dark-chocolate rum truffle, she clicked on his name. There was no message in the body of the email. She opened the attachment.

  A rainbow of watercolours bled onto the screen as the file loaded. There was music, soft and sweet and low, a song about Sophie’s presence still lingering there and not leaving him alone…

  She knuckled moisture away from her eyes. Oh, he sure knew how to make her tear up. She should have deleted it. And yet…and yet…why would he do this?

  The music finished and words scrolled onto the screen in a romantically flowing script:

  Last night I had a dream. It was Tuesday morning. Ten o’clock—I remember because somewhere I heard a clock chime the hour. And I was standing at the Victoria Memorial in front of Buckingham Palace. Waiting for you. Charcoal clouds sagged, their underbellies like Spanish moss above the sculptured marble statues and Victory’s gold wings. But still it was a magical place, just like you said.

  And I made a wish. And in the way of dreams, the clouds dissolved and then the whole world was shining and golden and I turned and you were walking towards me with such a smile that I could barely breathe…

  Sophie’s breath caught. Now she was the one who could barely breathe. She concentrated on drawing air in, filling her lungs as far as she could. Letting it out slowly.

  Tomorrow was Tuesday…

  The realisation smacked her upright. No. No, no, no. She slammed the machine shut. Slid it to the bottom of her bed. Not possible. Jared was not in London and he was definitely not going to be waiting for her in front of the Victoria Memorial tomorrow morning. Never gonna happen. Lies. All lies, designed to make her…what?

  She wanted to cry and scream and pull her hair out. And dare to hope? The best she could do was to drag the thin quilt over her head and pretend she’d never read it.

  But of course she couldn’t sleep. And she couldn’t pretend. She sniffed under the cover of darkness and tried to sift through her jumbled thoughts and emotions. At ten o’clock tomorrow morning she was going to make sure she was sightseeing at Windsor Castle or Oxford or somewhere well away from Buckingham Palace.

  Except…that was the coward’s way out and if he really was here…he was here to see her…and what was that telling her? Had he really left his business and come all this way around the world just to see her?

  You didn’t come all the way around the world just to see someone. Her heart throbbed harder. Not ordinary people anyway.

  Maybe it was just an email after all. To tell her…what…? Little shivers rippled up and down her body. What if…?

  Jared stopped pacing a groove around the Victoria Memorial to check his watch for the third time in two minutes. If she didn’t turn up soon he was going to wear a rut in the pavement.

  He fisted his hands in the pockets of his coat. Positive thoughts. He was a positive kind of guy, wasn’t he? Tourists swirled around him, snapping photos, enjoying London’s brisk morning. It smelled of autumn and fresh-turned earth from the garden beds nearby. A couple of kids chased up and down the shallow steps.

  Had she even read his
email? he wondered for the millionth time. Maybe she didn’t check daily… Maybe she hadn’t understood the message.

  Maybe she’d simply deleted it unread.

  She’d be here.

  And as if those words had conjured her up, there she was. Walking towards the memorial, her hands in the pockets of a rust-coloured coat. She wore black boots and a cream beret on her dark hair. Looking at her was like looking at a cream cupcake when you’ve been on a life-long diet.

  When she passed the Buckingham Palace gates she caught sight of him and their gazes collided. Fused. He had to breathe in deep because suddenly he’d forgotten how. She appeared to falter, then picked up the pace again. Moving swiftly.

  He moved too, dodging a group of noisy schoolkids on an excursion and for a moment he lost sight of her behind a tall robust man but then, there she was, smiling at him and he could smell her familiar fragrance before he could reach out and cup her face between his hands and lose himself in those dewy amber eyes.

  He hauled her face to his before she could answer and kissed her. Tasted her unique sweet caramel flavour, heard her murmured sigh against his mouth. And all he knew was that he never wanted to let her go again. He drew back a little to see her better, stroking her cheeks before he took her hands and held them against his chest.

  ‘Jared.’ A shadowed expression crossed her face and her smile faded a little and he knew he’d put those shadows there.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked, obviously expecting him to loosen her hands. ‘In London, I mean.’

  He didn’t let her go. ‘Just over twenty-four hours.’

  ‘I got your email…’ With a rueful grimace, she shook her head. ‘Of course I did or I wouldn’t be here…’

  An awkward silence suddenly enveloped them. ‘Let’s go somewhere nearby where we can talk,’ he suggested.

  ‘St James’s Park,’ she said, indicating the way. Already a local, he thought, and, still holding one trembling hand, he accompanied her along the footpath.

  They had a somewhat stilted conversation while they walked along Pall Mall. Her job was busy, she loved London. She’d seen the Tower and Westminster Abbey and been to Brighton on her day off last week. Melissa was enjoying her new apartment but staying at the house to babysit Angus. And yes, the mutt was gaining weight. A real personality, no doubt about that.

  But all he could think was how right her hand felt in his, how he’d missed her, how much he wanted her in his life.

  They passed through some beautiful ornate gates and, because the ground was damp, chose a wooden bench facing the lake. Autumn was busy here, painting a glorious palette of red and brown and gold amongst the green. A weeping willow on the little island in the lake reflected in the water. Even the air smelled different.

  Sophie breathed in the scents of autumn and Jared. As long as she lived, she’d never forget this moment. They sat at an angle facing one another. He’d lost a few kilos. Fatigue shadowed his green eyes but there was emotion there too. And nerves, she thought, like her. She waited for him to speak first.

  ‘Sophie.’ He paused, then took both her hands and looked into her eyes. ‘First off, I love you, Sophie. I’ll always love you.’

  She blinked up at him. Just for a moment her heart glowed and the whole world glowed with the wonder of it. A huge ball of emotion lodged in her throat.

  ‘And knowing that you feel the same way, I have a question. The most important question I’ll ever ask. Sophie Buchanan…will you marry me?’ He squeezed her hands, his green-eyed gaze so tender and true she felt as if she’d been sliced through the heart, because it couldn’t happen—not with them. She’d told him why.

  ‘No.’

  Something flitted across his gaze but he jogged their joined hands gently on his knees just once. Then he leaned in, pressed a quick but tender kiss on her lips. ‘You told me you loved me—have you changed your mind already?’

  ‘I… No.’

  ‘Well, I sure as hell can’t think of a single solitary reason why two people who love each other shouldn’t get married.’

  ‘You know why. Kids, Jared. You want kids. You…you told me you broke up with Bianca because she didn’t want children.’

  ‘Ah, Sophie, Sophie, is that what you thought?’ He shook his head, pressed a kiss to her brow. ‘I broke up with Bianca because she didn’t want Melissa as part of the marriage deal. She expected me to shunt her off to her big sister after we got married and I wouldn’t do it. That’s entirely different, honey.’

  ‘Oh…’ It was, it was. Sophie’s heart started to gallop.

  ‘Now, is there any other reason?’ he said. ‘Because if there’s not I’m going to ask you to marry me again.’

  ‘You didn’t try to stop me leaving, you didn’t tell me you loved me when I left.’

  ‘Because I was fighting my feelings. Afraid of how I felt. And I knew how much you wanted this trip, Sophie. I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you. After what you told me I needed time to think. I asked myself if I wanted those kids without you, and the answer is no. Never. You are my life, Sophie.’

  She could no longer hold those carefully banked tears back and they spilled over and down her cheeks. ‘I know how much you love kids, what a great father you’d make…’

  Barely a pause, hardly a flicker in his eye. But there was something steely in the determined jut of his jaw. ‘Sophie. We can’t have children. We, plural. Shared. The two of us. Together. I’ll say it again—we can’t have children.’

  Her tears spilled faster. He’d known, yet still he’d come all the way across the world for her. Because he loved her. He wanted to marry her.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he begged her softly. ‘Did you lose a baby? Is that why you didn’t want anything to do with Arabella?’

  She sniffed away her tears. ‘I’d always wanted children. Glen wanted children almost as badly as me. But I’d always had problems in that area. When I didn’t fall pregnant they ran tests. The doctors told me it was unlikely I’d ever conceive even with surgery, I had too much scarred tissue. And I was only twenty-one.

  ‘Then a miracle happened. I was pregnant.’ She looked down at her hands, remembering the heartache. ‘It was an ectopic pregnancy. After…I only had one tube left and my chances were halved. Practically zero.’

  She was conscious of Jared’s hand over hers, his quiet empathy. ‘Go on,’ he murmured.

  ‘Glen didn’t see why he should miss out on being a father just because I was only half a woman—’

  ‘Hang on, half a woman? He said that?’

  She nodded and felt a tremor run from his hand to hers. ‘So he set out to find a woman who could give him what I couldn’t. He didn’t consider being married to me to be an impediment. Apparently he worked his way through quite a few lovers before he hit the jackpot.’

  ‘Bastard.’ The word slid out between clenched teeth.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Did you look at other alternatives? IVF, for instance?’

  She shook her head. ‘Why would Glen want to pay all that money with no guarantees? A divorce is faster and cheaper. And far easier to go out and find someone more fertile to father his offspring.’

  ‘I’m not like Glen.’ He seemed to choke on the man’s name.

  She looked into his eyes. ‘I know you’re not like him. But I’ve seen you with Arabella and I know how good you are with babies. You’d want your own children…’

  He shook his head. ‘Sophie, maybe under present circumstances we can’t have our own children, but we haven’t really given it a go yet, have we? You talked about your miracle—what makes you think two miracles can’t happen? In the meantime we can look into those alternatives. And if all else fails, we can foster or adopt. There are always kids in need of loving homes. You have to remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re a team. All you have to do is say you’ll marry me.’

  ‘You mean that.’ She breathed the wonder of it. ‘You really mean it.’

&nb
sp; ‘Don’t look so surprised, honey.’ Smiling at her, he stroked her hair. ‘Of course I do, with all my heart and soul and everything that I have.’

  ‘I love you too, and I don’t want to be without you but it’s taken me years to get here…I…haven’t finished yet.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ve taken leave. I’ve never taken leave so I reckon I deserve it. And I’ve got a nice suite for the two of us in a top hotel with a view of the Thames a ten-minute walk from your place of work. That is if you still want to work… Or would you rather travel the UK and Europe in style? With me.’

  ‘Oh…’ A whole new world was opening up to her. A world with Jared by her side…

  ‘You don’t have to be alone any more, Sophie. Let me be a part of your decisions. Let’s make those plans together. Paris, Rome, Florence…wherever you want to go. As long as we go home together when we’re done.’

  Home. And she realised that was what she wanted, more than anything. To have this man—the man she loved—sharing her life. The good times…and the bad. She could still maintain her independence. She knew Jared would support her one hundred per cent in whatever she chose to do.

  She looked up into his eyes warm with love. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, then louder, clearer, firmer, ‘Yes. I’ll marry you.’

  The visitors to St James’s Park might have looked on in amusement as he let out a joyous whoop then rose, hauling her up with him. ‘Right answer,’ he murmured, before laying his mouth against hers. Then, lips locked, he managed to twirl her around three times before setting her down.

  He grabbed her hand once more and they began retracing their steps back to the Mall. ‘Do you think you can get the evening off?’

  ‘We have the afternoon…’

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  SOPHIE smiled as she glanced out of the kitchen window while she stirred the gravy for their traditional lamb roast dinner. She loved lazy Sunday afternoons when all the family was here. Lissa and Jared were playing ball with a chubby little Arabella and a much larger Goldie while Angus chased and barked joyously between their feet. Crystal and Ian watched on under the shade of an umbrella.