‘I would never deprive you of having a bond with your child,’ she continued gently. ‘I know what you went through with Samantha.’
‘So what are your suggestions?’ When it came to the art of compromise, his skills were remarkably underdeveloped, but now Matt understood that compromise was precisely what he would have to do. Until he could persuade her round to his point of view. Legitimising their relationship made perfect sense to him, but he knew that he would have a lot of ground to cover. He had sidelined her, and she wasn’t going to let him forget that—even though circumstances had now irrevocably changed.
Like a dog with a bone, he chewed over her assumptions that they were better off apart, that they were ill suited to one another. She seemed to have forgotten very quickly just how compatible they had been—and not just in bed. This about-turn in his thinking was perfectly acceptable to Matt. Things were different now. Instead of trying to spot the possible downsides, she should be trying to see the definite upsides. As he was! He was prepared to make any necessary sacrifices. Why shouldn’t she?
‘I could stay on in Manhattan…’
‘That’s non-negotiable.’
‘Maybe live with Claire until I find myself a flat and a job.’
‘Have you heard a word I said?’ Matt looked at her incredulously. ‘You won’t be working. There will be no need. Nor will you be rooming with your sister.’ His face registered distaste. ‘If you’re hell-bent on not accepting my proposal, then a suitable place will be found. Somewhere close. Very close.’ He scowled, still disgruntled with the way his plans had been derailed. ‘With regards to my work, I know that you want to contribute financially, but there will be no need for you to think that I come as part of the package.’
‘Why are you so determined to put obstacles in my way!’
‘I’m not putting obstacles in your way, Matt. You accused me of having ulterior motives in going to bed with you…’ Tess felt her voice wobble, just thinking back to that hurtful accusation.
‘I apologise,’ he inserted quickly. ‘You have to understand that it’s my nature to be suspicious. I was just taking a step back and voicing possibilities.’
‘There’s no point trying to backtrack now,’ Tess told him stiffly. ‘You said what you said in the heat of the moment but you meant every word. I’m not happy about the thought of living off you, and I won’t do it.’
‘Most women would kill for what you’re being offered,’ Matt intoned with intense irritation.
‘I’m not most women, so don’t you go bundling me up in the same parcel as everyone else!’
‘What job are you going to get?’
‘I want to go into teaching. I told you. I’ll investigate the process.’
Matt instantly determined that, whatever the process was, he would make sure that he decided it. He would not envisage a life with his child being raised separately while Tess vanished off to teach other people’s children. She should be with her own, keeping the home fires burning for him, looking after Samantha.
It was a comfortable image. Seductive even.
‘Now—’ Tess stood up ‘—I feel really drained. It’s been stressful for me too, believe it or not, and I have a lot of things to be thinking about. So if you don’t mind I’m going to head back to the apartment. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.’
He was being dismissed! Control had been completely wrested from his possession, and for once he was in the position of having to grit his teeth and take it.
‘What time? I could send Stanton for you. We can have lunch. Dinner, if you prefer. There’s still a lot to discuss.’
‘I’ll…I’ll let you know…’ Tess said vaguely. She had so much to think about. Was she doing the right thing? He had offered marriage. Was it fair to the baby growing inside her that she turned him down? Her head felt as though it would burst.
They both needed space to think, and she wouldn’t let him call the shots. That was a dangerous road which she had already travelled. Matt Strickland didn’t love her. He never had and he never would, and the arrival of a baby wouldn’t change that. And without love how could she marry him? That thought infused her with strength.
‘Perhaps the day after tomorrow,’ she amended. ‘And then we can meet up and talk this over like two adults. Once we’ve done that, we can start sorting out the practicalities. This sort of thing happens to loads of people. We’re not unique. We can both deal with it and move on.’
CHAPTER NINE
TESS returned to her sister’s apartment to find that nothing in life ever went according to plan. The answer-machine was blinking furiously and there were five messages. Four were from her sister and one was from her mum. Her mother’s message, delivered in an awkward, stilted voice—her I’m-leaving-a-message voice—informed her that her father had been rushed to hospital with a suspected heart attack. ‘Everything will be fine, we’re sure,’ her mother had added as an afterthought. ‘No need for you to come back home early. Our Mary is on top of things. It’s wonderful to have a doctor in the family.’
The remaining messages were from Claire, repeating what their mother had communicated and adding that she was at the airport and would be in the air by the time Tess got the message. Then she demanded, ‘Don’t you ever answer your cell phone?’
There were eight missed calls and several text messages. Her cell phone had been innocently forgotten and was still in the kitchen, on charge.
The thoughts that had been driving her crazy on the trip back to the apartment now flew out of her head, replaced by panic. Her father was never ill. In fact, Tess didn’t think that he had ever registered with a doctor—or if he had he had been a once-in-a-lifetime patient. If her mother had seen fit to call, then it must be serious. That was the path her logic took. It also advised her to get on the next flight out.
She flung some things in a hand luggage bag, and on the way to the airport reflected that getting out of the country for a while was probably the best thing that could have happened. Away from Manhattan, she would have time to think in peace. She would phone Matt in a few days and arrange to meet with him just as soon as she judged that her father was fit and fine.
Not seeing him would be the biggest act of kindness she could give herself, because seeing him earlier on had just reconfirmed what she had already known. He wreaked havoc with her peace of mind. The second she laid eyes on him it was as if an electric charge had been plunged into her, and it didn’t matter how much she tried to think herself out of feeling that way, she was helpless against his impact.
Some time away from him—even a few days—would allow her to build up some defences. She would have to face the unappealing reality that her life was going to change for ever. Not only would she have a permanent tie with Matt, but she would be condemned to follow the outcome of his choices through the years. She would have to watch from the outside as he became involved with other women, shared his life with them, introduced them to Samantha and to their own child. However much he wanted to take on responsibility, she’d had to release him from a sacrifice that would have destroyed them both, and it wouldn’t be long before his relationship with her became purely functional.
She would have to learn to deal with that. She would get a job when the baby was born. Not immediately. First she would check out colleges and see what might be required of her. Those weeks of teaching Samantha had bolstered her confidence. She would start her academic climb with a positive outcome in sight. In time, she would get a job and meet someone else. Someone more suitable.
When she began to think about this mystery man, waiting just around a mythical corner, her thoughts became vague, and she had to stop herself from making the sweeping assumption that no one could ever possibly compete with Matt.
As soon as she landed in Ireland she phoned her mother who, like her, had a habit of forgetting her mobile phone—leaving it on counters, in the bedroom, sometimes on top of the television. Because, ‘If it’s important, whoever it is will call
the proper phone.’ There was no reply.
Exhausted after her long flight over, and greeted with a damp, unappealing Ireland which seemed so much quieter and so much less vibrant after the excitement of New York, Tess took a cab back to her home.
The buzz of the city was well and truly left behind as the taxi meandered along the highway and then trundled along narrow streets surrounded by great stretches of countryside, as though the cab driver had all the time in the world.
He talked incessantly, and Tess made a few agreeable noises while allowing her thoughts to wander like flotsam and jetsam on an ocean current. She pictured her father lying grey-faced and vulnerable on a hospital bed. Mary would know exactly what was going on, and would give her a more realistic assessment than either her mother or Claire. When she thought of her father being seriously ill she began to perspire, and switched her thoughts to her own problem. Although she would be seeing her entire family, she would not be able to breathe a word about her condition. She would have to wait until things calmed down a bit—then she would break the news. The very last thing either of her parents needed was yet more stress. Maybe she would wait until she returned to Manhattan. She hoped her mother wouldn’t expect her to stay on.
It was yet another possible complication that she once again shied away from facing. Life as she once knew it now seemed simple in comparison, but looking around her as the taxi drew into the small village where she had, until recently, lived with her parents, Tess wondered how she hadn’t itched to fly the coop long ago. Everything was so small and so static. They drove past the village hall, the shops, the cinema. Several miles away there was a bigger town, where she had always gone with her friends, but even that seemed rural and placid in comparison to the vigour of Manhattan.
The house was empty when she arrived, but signs of occupation were everywhere to be seen. Mary’s jacket hung on the banister. Claire’s bag had been dumped in the hall and lay half open, with items of clothing spilling out.
The immediacy of the situation grabbed Tess by the throat, and all thoughts of Matt were temporarily jettisoned.
The next few hours were a blur of activity. She was deeply, deeply exhausted, but her body continued operating on autopilot. She contacted Claire, then drove her mother’s car to the hospital—and that felt very strange after a diet of public transport, taxis and Matt’s private chauffeur.
‘He just complained of feeling a bit out of breath,’ her mother whispered, drawing her to one to whisper. ‘The old fool.’ Her eyes had begun watering but she soldiered on and blinked her tears away. ‘Never had a day’s illness in his life, so he didn’t want me to call the doctor. Thank the Lord I did! They say it’s just a scare. He’s going to be fine. But he’ll have to give up some of his favourite foods. He’s not going to like that. You know your dad.’
It was late by the time Tess’s body finally caught up with. One minute she was chatting with her sisters and her mother in the kitchen, then she was having her shower, slipping into a nightie, and then her head hit the pillow and she disappeared into sleep as though tranquillised.
And that continued to be the case for the next three days. She settled into a routine of sorts—back in her old bedroom, sharing the bathroom with Mary and Claire and bickering with them about the length of time they took whenever they ran a bath. Her father was improving steadily and had begun to complain about the hospital food, which seemed a good sign.
Lurking at the back of the gentle chaos and the cosiness of the familiar was Matt’s dark, brooding presence, and the pressing situation with which they had yet to deal. But every time Tess reached for the phone to call him her hand faltered and she began sweating, and then she’d postpone the conversation which she knew would inevitably have to be made. After the second day he began to leave messages on her mobile, and missed calls were registered. Tess decided to give it until the weekend to get in touch. The weekend would mark five days out of contact.
Mary would be returning to London and Claire would be going with her, taking a few days off to remain in the country and using the opportunity to import Tom, so that they could do some shopping and also meet the parents if she deemed that her father was up to it. She had already e-mailed her resignation and seemed to have no regrets about losing her high-flying job in Manhattan because Tom would be transferring to London. Between her father’s improving health and Claire’s exciting news Tess was happy to sideline herself in the background, where she could nurse her own worries in peace.
Which was precisely what she was doing in her room, with her tiny, very old television turned on very low, telling her about unexpected flooding in Cornwall, when her mobile went and an unknown number was displayed.
At the very height of his frustration Matt had invested in a new phone, with a new number, because after days of trying without success he could think of no other way of getting in contact with her.
He’d hesitated to telephone her sister. What excuse could he possibly give? Tess had been adamant that she would break the news to her family in her own time. Already dealing with having his perfectly formulated plan to marry her turned on its head, the last thing he needed would be to arm her with more grounds for grievance.
Over a period of three days his mood had travelled on a one-way road from poor to appalling. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Then he’d begun to worry. What if she had been taken ill? Been in an accident? Was lying somewhere in a hospital, unable to get in touch? The surge of sickening emotion that had filled him at the thought of that had been shocking—although, as he had shakily reminded himself, perfectly understandable given her condition. He was a man of honour. He would be shaken to the core at the thought of the mother of his child falling ill and being unable to get in touch with him.
But before he began ringing round the hospitals in the area he’d had the last-minute brainwave of buying a new phone—one with a new and unrecognisable number—just in case she simply wasn’t answering his calls.
The second he heard her voice at the other end of the line he felt a spasm of red-hot anger envelop him like a mist. He realised that he had been worried sick about her.
‘So you are alive,’ were his opening words.
On the other side of the Atlantic, Tess sat up in bed. The sound of his voice was like a shot of adrenaline, delivered intravenously.
‘Matt…I’ve been meaning to give you a call.’
‘Really? When?’ It was just as well that she wasn’t within strangling distance, he thought with barely suppressed fury. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve made several hundred calls to you over the past few days. Where the hell are you? I’ve been to the apartment four times and no one has been there!’
‘I needed to have a little time to myself.’ She glanced around her furtively, half expecting to see him materialise out of thin air, so forceful was his personality even over a telephone thousands of miles away.
‘I’m sick to death of hearing what you need!’ He had to stop himself from roaring down the line. There was no place for anything less than civilised behaviour in their situation, but the woman brought out a side to him that he hadn’t known existed and one which he found difficult to control. Not even with Catrina, at the very height of their dysfunctional marriage, when revelations had been pouring out from the woodwork like termites, had he felt so uncontrollably responsive. Where with Catrina he had taken refuge from his problems by burying himself in his work, with Tess that was no solution. However hard he tried, it was impossible to focus. ‘Running away isn’t the solution! Where are you?’
‘I’m…’ Two things stopped her from telling him the truth. The first was the knowledge that to confess that she was on the other side of the Atlantic, having taken off without bothering to let him know, would make him even angrier than he already sounded. The second was the fact that she couldn’t let him know where she was. He was her problem in America, and with her father still recuperating there was no way that she wanted him to intrude and possibly risk
jeopardising her father’s recovery. How would her parents react if he phoned the house and gave the game away? Let slip that she was pregnant? Single and pregnant by a man who wasn’t going to be her husband? Her parents would have to be gently eased into that, and this was not the right time.
‘I’m out of New York. Just for…for a few days. I know we have stuff to talk about, and I’ll give you a call just as soon as I return.’
‘Where. Are. You?’
‘I’m…’
‘If you don’t tell me where you are,’ he said in a calmer voice, ‘then I’ll do some investigative work and find out for myself. You would be surprised how fast I can get information when I want it.’
‘I told you—’
‘Yes, I know what you told me, and I’m choosing to ignore it.’
‘I’m back home,’ Tess confessed, ‘in Ireland. My dad got rushed into hospital and I just had to get to the airport and fly over.’
Matt paused. ‘Rushed into hospital with what?’
‘A heart attack scare. Look, I’m sorry—’
‘And is he all right?’ Matt interrupted tersely.
‘On the mend. We’re all very relieved.’
‘Why didn’t you say so in the first place? No. Better question. Why didn’t you answer one of my five hundred calls and tell me that?’
‘I had a lot on my mind…and I wanted to have some space to think…’
Across the water, alarm bells started ringing.
Matt was in no doubt that her initial reaction to hearing about her father would have been to hop on the first flight out. Although he was close enough to his parents, they had always been highly social and very much involved in their own lives. Tess, on the other hand, was fiercely attached to her parents and her sisters. He assumed that she would not have broken the news about her pregnancy to them—not given the circumstances.
But why hadn’t she picked up any of his phone calls? Or returned any of them?
Her Impossible Boss Page 13
