‘He won’t,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘He won’t,’ she said again with more conviction.
He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet perfumed scent and feeling her fragile and vulnerable beneath his touch. Nothing else but that moment mattered. All he wanted to do was love her, adore her, and all she wanted was him.
Their lovemaking was slower this time, gentler, but the passion, the breathtaking rollercoaster ride of discovering each other, was just as enthralling. And afterwards, as they lay spent in each other’s arms, there was no shame in her tears, no turning away and pretending to sleep. Just the gentle peace of acceptance, the utter joy of a new love born.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT SHOULD have been perfect.
It almost was.
Meg awoke slowly, lying on her stomach, feeling the heavy weight of his leg over her, an arm draped over her back and the soft kiss of his breath on her shoulder. Wriggling slightly, she turned her head, watching Flynn sleep. Watching the sun on his face, the full sensual mouth, the dark hair, his eyelashes short jet spikes, and she waited.
Waited for the pang of guilt, the shame of the morning after, the desire to pull the sheet over her head and groan with embarrassment.
It didn’t come.
Instead Meg realised she was actually smiling. Smiling as she watched him wake—the way his eyes screwed up and his lips curled, the restless movements of a body coming out of a deep long sleep. One lazy eye opened, immediately closing as a shaft of sun hit it.
‘Morning.’ Meg grinned.
He ran a lazy hand over her bottom and despite his grumbling as he awoke Meg knew he was delighted to feel her there from the way he luxuriously touched her. ‘Is it morning already?’
‘Has been for ages.’
He ran a tongue over his lips. ‘I shouldn’t have had that liqueur.’
Meg laughed. ‘Tell me about it! Do you want some coffee?’
He nodded gratefully. ‘And a gallon of water.’
Slipping on a robe, Meg padded out to the kitchen. It was only when she was alone, watching the water spurt through the filter machine, that the demons crept in. What if he thought less of her? What if he was lying there across the hall right this minute regretting every moment? What if that dig about drinking a liqueur was his way of saying that he’d never have slept with her if he hadn’t had too much too drink?
Stop it.
Pulling the ice tray out of the fridge, she broke some on the bench and filled a long glass. His intentions had been clear long before they had even arrived back at her flat. He had told her he loved her, practically proposed to her! Meg ran the glass under the tap, mentally shaking herself. She was being an idiot.
And anyway, the grin that greeted her when she padded back into the bedroom, balancing a tray and a mountain of Sunday papers, was more than enough to suspend any doubts.
‘God, I love Sundays.’
‘Me too.’
He read every last piece of the papers, his hand running over her body now and then and taking breaks to kiss her, to laugh with her. Somewhere between the business page and the colour supplement he made love to her all over again, and for a while there Meg thought she had died and gone to heaven.
For a while.
‘Hey, sleepy head.’ Flynn broke into her postcoital doze.
Sitting on the bed, his unkempt hair and the dark stubble on his chin emphasizing the crumpled white shirt of his dinner suit, Meg thought she had never seen a man more beautiful.
‘I have to go.’ He watched her force a smile, attempt to mask the disappointment in her eyes.
‘Sure.’
‘There’s a few things I need to take care of.’
Meg glanced at the bedside clock; it was two p.m. after all. ‘Okay.’ She hesitated a moment before continuing, not sure if she was pushing things too hard. ‘I’m on a late tomorrow. Will I see you?’
‘I certainly hope so.’ He picked up her hair and gently moved it off her face. ‘But do we have to wait until tomorrow?’
Hope surged in her and Meg’s smile finally caught up with her eyes.
‘Do you want to come over to mine tonight? I’ll ring for a takeaway.’ He was pleating the sheet, his eyes not quite meeting hers, and Meg realised he was nervous too. ‘You could bring your uniform—if you want to, that is?’
She did want to; there was nothing Meg wanted more. And this time when he got up to go there was nothing playing on her mind, nothing but all the thrill and promise tonight held.
He hadn’t left her much hot water—Meg’s tiny flat wasn’t exactly designed for two—but it didn’t stop her singing or rubbing conditioner into every strand of her hair and body oil into every crevice of her body. Tonight was going to be perfect. She walked back into the bedroom, surveying the tousled bed and the newspapers littered everywhere, and was hard pushed to wipe the grin off her face as she set about tidying up. The place looked as if a bomb had gone off, and when the phone rang it took a moment to locate it under the pile of her hastily discarded clothes.
‘Has he gone?’ Kathy’s voice was a loud whisper, bubbling with excitement.
‘Kathy!’ Meg exclaimed indignantly. ‘We shared a taxi.’
‘You might be able to fool Mum…’ Kathy let out a low chuckle. ‘Actually, you can’t. She was out first thing for Mass, and now she’s upstairs doing the Rosary. Praying for your sins, no doubt.’
‘Well, there’s no need.’
‘Not feeling guilty, then?’
‘Not a bit,’ Meg said firmly.
‘Good. Well, hold that thought and I’m on my way.’
Meg’s stomach let out a huge rumble, and before Kathy could hang up she called her back. ‘Stop at the bakers on Beach Road, would you? Bring some croissants.’
‘Hungry, are you?’
‘Starving,’ Meg admitted without thinking, and Kathy started laughing. ‘Just bring the pastries.’
Hanging up, Meg dressed quickly and put on the coffee pot for the second time that day. Just as the jug was filling and the flat was taking on a semblance of normality her doorbell rang loudly, and with a wide grin Meg opened the door.
Her grin didn’t last long.
‘Vince?’ He was the last person on earth Meg had been expecting to see, and the shock was evident in her voice.
‘I only just heard. I came as soon as I found out.’ He ran a hand through his blond hair—straggly hair, Meg noted. And he looked thinner now, with dark rings under his eyes.
Meg gave him a bemused look. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Your accident.’
‘But that was ages ago.’
‘What you must have been through.’ He stared at her with sorrowful eyes. ‘And I wasn’t there to help.’
‘Of course you weren’t,’ Meg said stiffly. ‘You were with your wife. How is she, by the way?’
‘Meg don’t bring Rhonda into it…’
‘She’s your wife, Vince. I know you seem to find that little fact rather easy to forget, but I for one can’t.’
‘Please, Meg.’ There was a note of desperation in his voice. ‘Can I just come inside?’
Her instinct was to scream no, to slam the door in his face and retreat to the safety of her flat. But what would that solve? A slanging match in the hallway she could do without. ‘Just for a moment, then,’ Meg mumbled, standing back stiffly to let him in.
‘Hell, Meg,’ he said once the door was closed and the only sound was Meg’s pounding heart. ‘I’ve missed you.’ When she didn’t respond his voice took on a slightly pleading note. ‘Please, Meg, when I heard about the accident…’
‘Does your wife know you’re here?’
‘Meg, just listen, will you…’
She swung around then, her eyes blazing with fury. ‘What were you expecting, Vince? That we’d fall into bed? That we’d carry on as before?’
‘Of course not,’ he spluttered.
‘Then wh
at?’
‘I just wanted to see for myself that you were okay.’
‘Well, you’ve seen.’ She held her hands up and slapped them quickly down to her thighs. ‘I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting company.’ Undoing the latch, she went to wrench open the door—but his hand got there first.
‘Please, Meg.’ His hand was over hers, and in a reflex action Meg pulled it away. But not quickly enough. The door flew open at that moment, and as Kathy burst in, her arms full of greasy paper bags, the happy smile on her face died in an instant.
‘Oh,’ she said her eyes turning questioningly from Vince to Meg. ‘The adulterer’s here.’
‘Kathy.’ Meg’s voice had a warning ring to it, but Kathy hadn’t finished.
‘He looks like a duck.’ She walked over to the bench and put the bags down as Vince stood there, a muscle pounding in his cheek. ‘Walks like a duck.’
‘I don’t need this from you!’ Vince had finally found his voice.
‘And quacks like a duck!’ Kathy finished triumphantly.
‘Vince was just leaving.’ Meg flashed Vince a look. ‘For good.’
‘I am allowed to be concerned,’ Vince said from hallway the as Meg finally ushered him out. ‘We were together for a long time, and they were good times, Meg. You know that as well as I do.’
Meg closed the door behind Vince. Leaning her head against it, she took a deep cleansing breath before turning to Kathy. She had expected a sympathetic grin, or at the very least a look of understanding, not the suspicious, even hostile stare that was coming from the usually easygoing Kathy.
‘What the hell are you doing, Meg?’
‘He just turned up out of the blue, honestly,’ Meg said somewhat taken aback by the accusing note in Kathy’s voice.
‘I didn’t ask what Vince was up to. I couldn’t care less about him and neither should you.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Then what were you doing letting him in?’
Meg shrugged. ‘What was I supposed to do? Discuss things in the hall so all the neighbours could hear?’
‘You shouldn’t have anything to discuss.’
‘We don’t. Look, Kathy, he just found out about the accident. He was worried.’
‘I bet he didn’t tell his wife he was dropping by.’
‘We were together a long time; he was bound to be concerned,’ Meg reasoned, but Kathy was having none of it.
Kathy, happy-go-lucky Kathy, who never got rattled, never, ever got cross, was suddenly on her feet, literally shaking with rage. ‘Oh, grow up, Meg. Just grow up, will you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Instantly Meg was on the defensive. She had truly done nothing wrong and couldn’t believe how Kathy was reacting.
‘Exactly that. The best thing that’s ever happened to you has just rung Jake. He’s asked him to go over—wants to move things on in his life.’
Meg shook her head, bemused, not understanding where Jake came into all this.
Kathy threw up her hands in despair. ‘Flynn’s sorting out his house—clearing things away. He doesn’t want to upset you with constant reminders of Lucy when you come over tonight. And what are you doing? Having a cosy afternoon tea with Vince, that’s what!’
‘Kathy, will you listen to me?’ Meg’s quiet deliberate tones were such a stark contrast to Kathy’s angry rantings that she actually snapped her mouth closed, her suspicious, angry eyes turning to Meg.
‘Vince arrived two minutes before you. I honestly had no idea he was coming.’
‘Honestly?’
‘Kathy, this is me you’re talking to. I’m your sister—have I ever lied to you?’
Kathy sniffed. ‘Yes.’ Her anger was abating and Meg saw a flash of the old Kathy as a reluctant smile wobbled on her lips. ‘You told me you’d taken those books back to the library and I found them under your bed.’
‘Seven years ago,’ Meg pointed out. ‘I meant about anything important.’
Grumbling, Kathy picked a bag off the bench. She selected a pastry for herself first then tossed the rest of the bag to Meg. ‘I still had to pay the fine.’ Closing her eyes for a second, Kathy let out a little sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Meg, I just overreacted—seeing that creep here, knowing the hell he’s put you through. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.’
‘I’m not going to get hurt,’ Meg said resolutely. ‘At least not if I’ve got any say in it.’ She took a small bite of her croissant. Funny, but after seeing Vince she suddenly didn’t feel so hungry.
‘Are you going to tell Flynn?’ Kathy asked. ‘That Vince was here, I mean.’
Meg swallowed the pastry, it tasted like cardboard. ‘I don’t know. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, but if what you told me about him clearing out the house is true, I don’t think it would be exactly great timing. Are you going to tell Jake?’
Kathy looked at her sister thoughtfully for a moment. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘But I’m not covering up for you, Meg, and don’t ever expect me to. I just don’t think Flynn needs it, today of all days.’
* * *
‘Meg.’ He kissed her warmly and fully, right there on the doorstep. ‘I was just about to ring and see where the hell you’d got to.’
Meg looked at her watch. ‘I’m not even late.’
Flynn pulled her inside. ‘I guess I just missed you.’
The first thing Meg noticed, or rather didn’t notice when she stepped inside was his wedding photo. It was still on display, she saw when he led her through to the living room, but on the dresser. His eyes followed hers and she felt his hand tighten around her fingers.
‘I can’t just put it away.’
‘I’d never expect you to.’
He cleared his throat. ‘I just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.’ He showed her around briefly, depositing her bag on the large double bed, and even though Meg had never been in the bedroom before, a woman’s instinct told her that the freshly polished smell and the incredibly clean dressing table were the results of a poignant afternoon. Her instinct was confirmed when she excused herself to the loo.
The picture was still on the wall, but the incense burner was pushed back a bit and the perfume bottles had been moved from the bathroom shelf. Maybe she shouldn’t have looked, maybe she was being nosy, but even as she opened the bathroom cabinet Meg knew what she would find. There, nestled amongst the combs, shaving brushes and aftershaves, were Lucy’s perfume bottles. Sure, he’d moved things around, tried not to overwhelm her, but she knew that when push had come to shove he simply hadn’t been able to do it. Taking a bottle down, Meg sniffed at it for a moment, her eyes welling with tears as she inhaled the heady fragrance. Tears for a young life lost. For all Lucy had lost and for all the pain Flynn had been through.
Oh, Flynn.
All she wanted was for Flynn to be honest—not just with her, but also with himself.
But honesty was a two-way street. Replacing the bottle, Meg took a deep breath, and as she headed down the stairs her mind was whirring. She couldn’t start with lies, no matter how white, no matter how small. A lie by omission was still a lie, and it was the one thing she dreaded Flynn doing to her.
He had to know.
He handed her a glass of red wine as soon as she stepped in the kitchen. ‘I didn’t know how you took your coffee,’ he admitted. ‘And if you don’t like red wine, we might as well call it quits now. Joking,’ he added seeing her serious face.
‘I know.’ She took a sip. ‘It’s delicious.’ She didn’t know how to start, wasn’t sure that she wanted to. But all Meg knew for certain was that she had to.
As it turned out, Flynn made the opening for her.
‘I saw Jake this afternoon. He said Kathy was heading your way. How was she? Still on cloud nine after last night?’
‘Not exactly,’ Meg muttered, swirling the wine in her glass. ‘Flynn, there’s something I have to tell you.’
‘Sure.’ He was staring at her so openly, not a t
race of concern on his face. Meg had the same feeling that plagued her when she was about to give a baby an injection. That rotten feeling as they smiled at you, trusting and gorgeous, not remotely aware that you were about to stick a two-inch syringe into their fat dimpled legs.
‘Vince came over this afternoon.’
‘Vince?’ His eyebrows creased for a moment. ‘You mean ‘‘bloody Vince’’?’
‘The very same.’
‘Are you all right?’
Meg looked at him, a touch startled by his question. ‘I guess so. It was just a shock. I thought it was Kathy when I opened the door, and there he was.’ She took a large slug of her wine. ‘Apparently he’d heard about my accident—said that he was coming to see how I was doing.’
‘A bit late,’ Flynn snorted, but the scorn was directed at Vince, not her.
‘I know.’ She simply couldn’t believe how well he was taking it. ‘I got rid of him as quickly as I could.’
‘And he didn’t give you a hard time?’
Meg shook her head.
‘Good. So why’s Kathy upset?’
Meg was staring at his back now. He was pulling open an overhead cupboard and grabbed a large bag of potato chips, tossing them in a bowl as she tentatively continued.
‘I think she thought it was a bit inappropriate.’
‘Inappropriate? Has she been taking lessons from your mum?’ Flynn laughed, really laughed then, and unbelievably, after all her angst of just a few moments ago, Meg found herself joining in.
‘She was just worried you might be upset.’
‘Had you rung him the second I’d gone, begged him to come over and jumped into bed with him, then I’d be upset.’
‘How do you know that I didn’t?’
Flynn shrugged. ‘If you did, why would you be here?’ He came over and, taking her wine glass from her, picked her up and deposited her none too gently on the bench, pushing his groin into hers, Meg found her legs instinctively coiling around him as he quietened her with a deep, slow kiss. ‘Meg,’ he said, pulling away, cradling her face with his hands. ‘You don’t have to earn my trust; you’ve already got it. Now, enough about Vince already,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s think about dinner.’ He gestured to the fridge door. ‘Pick a menu.’
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