Adam weighed it up. Yes, right. He’d go and shake hands with his father, in so doing condoning the way the man had treated his mother, the way he and his brother treated people in general. As if they didn’t matter. It did matter. Emily had mattered. Lily-Grace mattered. Sienna mattered.
Not happening, he decided, immediately feeling the almost oppressive sadness lift as he did. He’d rather starve to death than go anywhere near them. He’d just have to work harder and smarter, starting with the boat in the morning. He wouldn’t overcharge, that really was a sure-fire way to a bad reputation. He’d just make sure to do a good job. He’d get referrals, eventually. Had already, hadn’t he, proving to him that reputation was actually all.
Yep, that’s what he’d do. Adam got to his feet to make coffee. He’d turn things around. He might have to do it the hard way, but it was the only way, if he was going to live with himself. As for Sienna, it was about time he opened his mouth and told her how he felt. If she loved him – and Adam was sure she did, it was right there in her beautiful eyes – she’d understand. He’d talk to her, tomorrow. He’d do the job, get cleaned up, take her out to lunch and just talk to her. And if she had got her heart set on the whole white wedding thing … Adam tugged in a breath and then blew it out hard … he’d just have to man up and find a way to get through it; all this assuming Sienna did want a future with him, of course. Adam dearly hoped so. Now she’d come into his life, he wouldn’t know how to be without her.
Adam hated to break the news, but … ‘I can’t be certain until I can get a better look, but I suspect it might be the crankcase seals,’ he said, noting the steady drip of oil from under the engine.
‘Damn, thought it might be.’ The guy sighed. ‘I suppose that means the engine has to come out?’
Adam nodded. ‘Afraid so,’ he said, relieved that the guy obviously knew one end of his boat from the other, ergo wouldn’t think he was trying to fleece him. ‘They’re right at the bottom.’ He indicated thus. ‘The only way to access them is to lift the engine out and dismantle it.’
‘Which I suppose means I have to haul the whole boat out of the water and get it transported to the boatbuilders, which will cost me an arm and a leg.’ Shaking his head, the guy puffed out another exasperated sigh.
‘You could limp her there,’ Adam suggested, climbing up from the well. ‘She’ll probably get you there as long as you don’t push her.’
‘Upstream?’ The guy didn’t look overly thrilled at that prospect. Given the rain the last few days, Adam guessed why. The river would be on high amber alert pretty soon, which would be bound to put a strain on the engine. Brats his sons might be, but Adam doubted he’d want to drown them.
‘I could do it in situ,’ he suggested. ‘Given I get Nate’s agreement.’
The guy looked at him, surprised. ‘Really?’
‘I’d have to get a pulley and jig in but, yes, I don’t see why not.’
‘How much?’ The guy eyed him suspiciously.
‘The whole job?’ Adam paused, really hating to break this news. ‘Well, obviously, I’ll give you a fair quote, but if you do decide to get her transported, it could run into thousands.’
The guy’s shoulders drooped. He sighed again, long and hard.
‘You need to get the head gasket checked first, though.’ Having decided honesty was his best policy, Adam made sure the man had all the information he needed, should he decide to go elsewhere. ‘Could be that that’s the problem. The top part of the engine would still need dismantling to get to it, but it wouldn’t need lifting out. In which case, you’d be looking at hundreds.’
The guy nodded slowly, looking slightly less daunted at that news. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked, the age of the boat obviously in mind.
Adam debated. ‘It’s not an unusual problem for an older boat, but it’s very unlikely to reoccur with this type of engine, once it’s fixed. Given the market value of the boat, I’d say, yes, definitely.’
The guy thought about it, glanced at Adam, seeming to weigh him up, and then, ‘Do it,’ he said.
It was Adam’s turn to look surprised now.
Obviously noting the look, the man’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘You needn’t have offered the information about the head gasket,’ he said. ‘I appreciate it.’
Adam nodded, outwardly professional, underneath so ecstatic he could cheerfully have kissed the guy. Bearing in mind the bloke’s tattoos and macho attitude, though, he doubted it would have gone down very well. ‘I’ll have a word with Nate,’ he said, preparing to lay the decking back, lest the brats drop down the engine hole and break a leg.
‘Cheers, Adam.’ The guy moved to lend him a hand. ‘I thought you’d tell me I’d need a new engine, at least.’
Adam smiled wryly. ‘What, with my good reputation to consider?’
Showered and freshly shaved, Adam booked a table at Rossini’s. It would mean taking his car, but he wasn’t drinking, so that wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t either, hadn’t touched a single drop in … He’d stopped counting, he realised. That had to be progress. Smiling to himself, he tried to comb his hair into something near tidy. Apart from the passing urge he’d had last night, he hadn’t had that much inclination to drink, he realised. What’s more, he hadn’t really missed it, which meant he didn’t have to add alcoholic to his long list of faults. He felt better; a lot better, managing to climb straight out of bed this morning, rather than the ritual half hour trying to summon up the energy to heave himself out. Looked better, too. Bound to, he supposed, minus the bloodshot eyes and shaky shaving endeavours.
The exercise helped, kept him focussed. Adam gave up on his hair and reached into his wardrobe for a clean shirt, relieved to notice as he did that the one he’d discarded on the seating area hadn’t miraculously folded itself up.
Sienna, what he felt for her, that definitely helped keep him focussed. He’d never imagined it possible, never dared hope he might feel whole again, like a part of him wasn’t missing. And now, after years floundering around, satiating sexual urges, but never, ever acknowledging he might have emotional needs, he was in love; hopelessly, unequivocally in love.
He was scared. Terrified, when he stopped to think about it, realising he was opening himself up to the kind of pain a person surely couldn’t survive twice. He had no idea how he’d cope losing someone he loved all over again. He didn’t intend to lose her, though. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do to make it work, he’d do it, because for the first time in too long a time, Adam felt he did have a life worth living, and he wanted to live that life with Sienna.
Yet, he hadn’t told her.
True to form, he’d behaved like a complete idiot last night, doing what he’d always done, employing avoidance techniques. He should have pulled the car over, looked her in the eyes, and told her he loved her, with every fibre of his being; admitted he was frightened, that any uncertainty he might have was only about failing her because of those fears. Instead of which, he’d whammed up the shutters again.
He shook his head despairingly. Time they came down. Without complete honesty there would be no relationship anyway, he knew it. It was time to lay his soul bare and pray Sienna wouldn’t give up on him. Adam gave himself a quick check in the mirror, and then, sensing approval from the person he hoped was only in his head, he dragged a hand nervously over his neck and headed for Sienna’s cottage.
Adam stepped away from the front door, taken aback when Lauren yanked it open and greeted him with a curt, ‘What?’
‘Good afternoon.’ Adam dipped his head and tried a smile. That worked. Her look was still cool enough to freeze over an ocean.
‘It’s not,’ Lauren replied shortly.
‘Right.’ Adam nodded. Clearly someone had got out of bed the wrong side this morning. ‘Must be only me who’s noticed it’s not raining then.’
Lauren folded her arms, obviously not impressed, by him or the cloudless blue skies.
Fine. Adam glanced past her in hope
s of salvation. ‘Erm, would you like me to go and come back again?’ he asked, perplexed by her attitude. He’d gathered he was never going to be flavour of the month where Lauren was concerned, but hadn’t she addressed him at least halfway civilly when they’d last had the pleasure?
‘Go, yes,’ Lauren retorted, her expression still ninety degrees below zero.
‘Nice to see me but not that nice, hey, Lauren?’ Adam shook his head.
Lauren sighed and rolled her eyes.
He’d obviously rubbed her up the wrong way, again, but Adam was blowed if he knew how. Whatever, it didn’t look like she was about to invite him in, so … ‘Can I see Sienna, please?’ he asked, now feeling like a six-year-old kid come to call for his friend.
‘Not from here, no,’ Lauren observed drolly.
Adam forced a smile. ‘It’s just that I’ve booked a table at Rossini’s and—’
‘She’s not here.’ Lauren cut him short.
‘Oh, right.’ He hadn’t seen Sienna out walking Tobias, come to think of it, or Meadows with eyes on him from a distance. ‘Not here as in where?’ he asked, assuming they’d taken a father and daughter trip somewhere.
‘Not here as in gone,’ Lauren imparted, her expression unflinching.
Adam’s heart missed a beat. ‘Gone?’ he repeated, incredulous. ‘Gone where?’
‘Gone home, Adam,’ Lauren clarified, her gaze still locked stonily on his, ‘with her dad.’
Home? ‘But …’ Adam swallowed back his rapidly escalating panic ‘… why?’
Lauren rolled her eyes again, infuriatingly. ‘As if you didn’t know,’ she muttered. ‘You really are a complete—’
‘Lauren, for God’s sake!’ Adam shouted, fear knotting his stomach. ‘Why?’
Her arms still folded, her expression guarded, Lauren searched his face and her antagonism seemed to waiver.
‘Lauren, please …’ Adam begged, ‘… tell me.’
Lauren glanced down and then back to him, the look in her eye now somewhere near compassion. ‘I’m sorry, Adam,’ she finally relented a little. ‘I can’t say. I promised I wouldn’t. She said she’d write to you.’
Write to him? Adam’s heart dropped like a stone. Another Dear John letter? ‘You’re joking,’ he managed, past the tight lump in his throat.
Lauren’s gaze flitted down again. ‘I wish I was.’
Adam ran a hand shakily through his hair. She’d gone? Without saying a word? No, she wouldn’t … Couldn’t have! Why would she? Why wouldn’t she have …? Adam’s confused thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt. He knew why. Knew exactly why, because he’d been too concerned with his own feelings, too wrapped up in himself; too bloody selfish to consider hers. All he’d needed to do last night was explain, open his mouth and spit the words out. Sienna would have understood. Wouldn’t she? ‘I need her address,’ he said, his mind racing, his head reeling. He had to see her. He had to talk to her. Now.
Lauren shook her head adamantly. ‘I can’t say, Adam. I’m sorry.’
Adam stared at her, disbelieving. ‘There’s not a lot you can say suddenly, is there, Lauren?’ he asked, a hard kernel of anger growing inside him. ‘Pretty damn amazing when you couldn’t resist sticking your oar in at every other opportunity!’
‘Shouting at me won’t help your cause much, Adam!’ Lauren eyeballed him, equally angrily, and then pulled up her shoulders, clearly determined not to go behind Sienna’s back and share anything she didn’t want her to.
Because that’s what friends do, Adam reminded himself, guilt at raising his voice vying with heart-crushing despair. She wasn’t going to tell him. Who was he, after all, other than someone who’d apparently taken advantage of her friend? Hurt her. Made her cry more often than he’d made her laugh. Adam closed his eyes. ‘Where’s Nate?’ he asked, his very soul sinking.
‘I don’t know. I’m not his keeper either,’ Lauren replied caustically, obviously upset, with every right to be.
‘Right.’ Adam dropped his gaze. ‘Thanks.’ He swallowed, pulled in a breath and turned away.
‘You should have talked to her, Adam!’ Lauren shouted behind him. ‘About her, about what Sienna might want, instead of concentrating all of your efforts on what you wanted!’
‘I know,’ Adam said quietly, feeling the ground shift underneath him as he walked unsteadily to the chandlery. Nathaniel would have the address. Adam tried to focus, to stay focussed, to not drop down on his knees right there and just … stop fighting.
Chapter Twenty-One
The chandlery was closed. Adam had guessed it would be. He recalled Nathaniel saying something about an appointment. Adam couldn’t think where. Couldn’t think straight. Fumbling his phone from his pocket, he turned towards the car park. Stay calm, he cautioned himself, trying to still his trembling hands as he searched for Nathaniel’s number. There had to be some explanation. Had to be a way …
Should he phone her? Blinking hard, he scrolled down his phonebook. But what if she didn’t answer? His thumb hovered over Sienna’s details. What then? What the hell would he do then?
Selecting Nathaniel’s number instead, Adam dragged an arm across his eyes and waited for him to answer. Please, please, pick up, Nate. He prayed harder than he ever had. He was falling, free-falling. He didn’t want go there, to sink back into the pit of despair. Yet, it was beckoning him, like a soft, suffocating, dark blanket.
Stop! Kneading his temple with the heel of his hand, Adam willed himself not to give in, not to do what he was best at and give up, again. He tried to remain rational, though his thoughts were colliding, his heart close to exploding. Nathaniel would have her address. He’d rented her the cottage. He had to have the address.
‘Nate, I need to speak to you,’ Adam choked the words out when Nathaniel finally did answer.
‘Adam?’ was Nathaniel’s curious reply. ‘What’s up?’
‘I need to speak to you, Nate.’ Adam could hear the desperation in his own voice; feel everything he’d thought he’d had slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do this again. He needed to know. If there was any chance at all, he had to know.
Nathaniel’s tone was wary. ‘You’re not in trouble, are you?’
‘No,’ Adam assured him quickly. Yes, he wanted to say, deep trouble – and this time I’m not sure I can hold on.
‘I can’t right now, Adam,’ Nathaniel answered cautiously. ‘I’m having lunch with a customer. I can see you straight after. Can it wait?’
Adam gulped in a breath, forcing himself not to do what he wanted to do, sit down where he stood and sob like a baby, or drink until he couldn’t think anymore. ‘I really need to speak to you, Nate. I’ll come and meet you.’
‘Not a wise idea, Adam,’ Nathaniel cautioned him. ‘I’m in The Fish and Anchor, and the customer is James.’
Sherry’s husband, Adam’s heart sank.
‘Sherry’s with him, Adam. I wouldn’t, if I were you.’
Adam nodded, feeling the ground drop away another inch. Nathaniel was right. He couldn’t barge in there and pull him out of his meeting. Nathaniel needed the sale. His showing up would probably blow it for him. Quite possibly cause further trouble for Sherry, too. ‘I’ll wait outside,’ he said, knowing he needed to be in touching distance of someone he knew. The only other place he’d go if he didn’t go there would be to another pub. He didn’t want to do that. Didn’t want to let go.
They weren’t flashbacks, more like slow motion stills, this time. His mess of a life playing out in staccato before him; his father’s sneers, his mother’s quiet sobs, his baby’s bewildered cries. Swaddled in a duvet that must have seemed like a desolate wilderness, she’d been so tiny, so vulnerable. Emily lying still and cold, the lifeblood seeping from her body, the bathwater, deep, dark, impenetrable red, her life over, finished. She’d been desperate, lonely, alone, all because his damaged pride had steadfastly refused to allow him to contact her.
Yet she was here, beside him. She’d alw
ays be here, right inside him, driving him quietly insane. Didn’t he deserve it? Whatever had happened between them, for the sake of the child, a whole new, innocent human being, he could have tried. Couldn’t he? To be there. To be a friend when she’d needed one, if nothing else? Instead, he’d walked away to lick his own wounds. God alone knew how she’d ended up in his brother’s bed. Scratch that. Adam knew. Darren had always fancied her, fancied himself, chatted her up; flattered her. Adam, weak specimen that he was, unable to stand up to his brother or his old man and say ‘enough’, he’d made her cry. Darren would have moved in, switched on the charm; mopped up her tears.
How many times had they … Adam closed his eyes, his stomach clenching, as he recalled walking past his brother’s bedroom door, hearing sounds from within that drew him like a magnet: Emily, unmistakably Emily, with Darren.
He could never have forgiven his brother, but he should have tried to forgive Emily, not turned his back on her. Finding out she was pregnant, in all probability with his child, still he’d refused to have anything to do with her, with anyone. Darren had taken his chance, taken advantage of her, Adam knew it. Emily had played her part. Maybe she’d wanted to hurt him in the most painful way possible, and she had, but how much had he hurt her? Ultimately, he’d destroyed her. His love had destroyed her. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, a future, the love of someone good and wholesome, like Sienna. Adam would never forgive himself.
The Rest of My Life Page 28
