“It gets worse,” he said. “I moved out of the family home in Russell, which is where my surgery is, in the Bay of Islands. Our divorce eventually came through. I knew she didn’t like the bay—she missed the city—but I was shocked when out of the blue she announced she was planning to take Mateo back to Spain.”
“Oh no. What did you do?”
“Got the lawyers involved. Mat doesn’t want to go, and, even though he’s young, the Lawyer for Child says he understands everything and genuinely wants to stay here. He doesn’t like Spain—Nita tries to get him to speak Spanish but he refuses. She thinks I’ve poisoned him against it, but I haven’t. I’m very careful not to say anything negative about either her or Spain in his hearing.”
“That’s good of you. Not everyone would be so nice about it.”
He shrugged, and it was clear to Bridget that he didn’t understand how he could have reacted in any other way. “We’re waiting for them to make a decision. Unfortunately, though, they couldn’t stop her moving to Wellington. She’s been here six months, and I fly down every other weekend to spend some time with Mat.”
“That must be hard.”
“It is.” He looked out of the window. “I’m forcing her to stay in New Zealand, and she hates me for it. She punishes me every way she can. I’m not sure what to do for the best. Should I withdraw my case against her and let her leave the country, in which case I’ll only see my son probably once a year if I travel to Spain, and make him unhappy because he doesn’t want to go? I’ve tried my best to make it work with her, but her resentment is rooted too deep. She could never love me now.”
“Do you still love her?” Bridget asked softly.
It wasn’t the sort of question she would ever have asked a stranger normally, but this situation was so far removed from normal that she felt as if she could discuss anything with him, sitting there in the semi darkness, the taste of wine in her mouth, the TV flickering in the background, the boy snoring gently in the bed.
“I’m not quite sure what that means anymore.” He sipped his wine. “She’ll always be Mat’s mother, and because of that I’ll always have some affection for her. And because of the history we’ve shared, even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could forget the intense passion we had for a while. But what is love? Feeling comfortable and content with someone. Being safe and secure. Desiring them. Wanting to be with them all the time, to have them to yourself. Feeling as if life is better when you’re with them. Well, I don’t feel any of those things. She doesn’t wear my ring. She’s not mine anymore. So no, I don’t think I love her. Not like I used to, anyway.”
Bridget nodded. “Have you thought about trying to get custody of Mat yourself?”
“I’ve considered it, but I don’t want to put the boy through more than he’s been through already. And Nita’s a good mother—she loves her son, and it wouldn’t feel right to take him away from her. There isn’t an answer that will satisfy everyone. Someone’s going to suffer, and as I’m the man, I guess it’s going to be me.” His lips twisted.
“It’s unfair,” she whispered.
“Yeah. But what can you do?” He sipped his wine. “So I’ve told you my life story. It’s your turn now. If you want to.”
Chapter Six
Aaron had surprised himself by opening up like that. He’d been known to subside into melancholy and talk ad nauseum about his woes to Joe, his business partner, usually after they’d shared half a bottle of whisky, but it was a long time since he’d talked to anyone else about Nita, and about what had happened between them.
He turned the wine glass around in his fingers, watching the woman sitting opposite him. Now she was calmer, the redness had faded from her eyes to leave them a shining blue. Her hair had dried to a bright blonde, strands creeping out from her braid to curl around her cheeks. With her face clean of makeup she looked young, although maybe not as young as he’d first thought—mid to late twenties, maybe. Her pale lips looked soft. He imagined that if he kissed them, it would feel like kissing rose petals.
“You have big hands,” she said.
His eyebrows rose, and he turned the hand on the table, looking at the creased palm. Yeah, maybe they were big—strong, capable hands, used to lifting, handling, holding. “Big feet too,” he said, waving one around.
“Hmm. Big feet, big…”
He met her gaze to find her eyes alight with mischievousness. Her impish smile lit up her whole face and turned it from pretty to stunningly beautiful.
“Shoes,” he finished, his heart rate picking up.
She held his gaze for a beat longer than was necessary before she laughed. She liked him. It was so unexpected it took his breath away.
Then her smile faded, and he remembered why she was there. Idiot, he scolded himself. The last thing she needed was to have some random guy flirting with her. She needed a father figure to comfort her, nothing more.
“There’s not much to say,” she said in answer to his query about her life story.
“I don’t believe that.” He stretched out his legs. “How long had you been dating—what was his name? Mal?”
“Seven years.”
His eyebrows rose. “And he’d only just asked you to marry him?”
“It must seem positively glacial compared to the speed of your commitment,” she teased.
“A bit. But seven years is ridiculous.” She was gorgeous. Why would a man not want to get his ring on her finger as soon as he could to tell every other guy she was his?
She shrugged and brought up her feet so she could rest her heels on the edge of the seat, her knees against the table. “It was a very on-off relationship.”
“You’ve broken up before?” He remembered her brother’s words: She’s always gone back for more.
“Several times. It became a thing—I don’t know why.” She stared out the window, where the light had now faded and stars were beginning to pop out against the darkening sky. “After the first couple of times, neither of us took it very seriously. We’d argue, I’d walk out, we’d wait a week, then he’d beg me to come back, and I’d give in. It was just what happened. A game we played, I suppose.”
“What did you argue about?”
“Usually him not being committed enough. It makes me sound like an awful nag, but I’d watch my friends with their partners and see how their guys didn’t seem to want to be apart from them—like you said, love is wanting to be with someone all the time. He was never like that. He would much rather have been with his mates than be with me, unless it was an event where he needed a girlfriend, and then he’d want me. It all sounds so bloody immature and childish now.” She took a mouthful of wine, color touching her cheeks.
“But he did propose in the end?”
“Only because I gave him an ultimatum.” Her eyes had dulled and lost their shine. “I told him that if he didn’t grow up and make a proper commitment, we were done for good. I refused to see him for several weeks, and I think he got into a panic. He proposed over the phone.”
“Jeez.” At least Aaron had done better than that. He’d arranged a romantic dinner in an expensive restaurant, and had the waiter bringing the ring over with the dessert on a tray. Not that it had made any difference to the final outcome of the relationship, obviously, so maybe he was the mug.
“I should have known,” Bridget said. “He was halfhearted about the whole thing. He didn’t want a church wedding, didn’t want any guests or fuss. He even stated that he didn’t want me to buy a big dress. I was so pleased he’d finally proposed that I went along with everything. But I should have known.”
She rested her lips on her knees, looking down at the table. Aaron could feel the embarrassment and anger radiating from her.
“You said you were more upset by the humiliation of being jilted than about losing him,” he pointed out. “So why did you keep taking him back?”
Without moving her head, her gaze rose to meet his.
“I’m not accusing, by the way,�
�� he added. “I suspect your answer will be the same as mine, but I’m interested to know.”
Her gaze dropped back to the table. “He was safe. The devil I knew, I suppose. He’s the only guy I’ve ever dated.” Her eyes met his again.
His eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yeah. I suppose some kids might have gone off the rails after having both parents die, but not me. Hitch had to battle to keep me—he was only eighteen, and he put off going to university so he could look after me. I was always very grateful for that. I knew what he’d had to sacrifice. He did his best, but he was never very good at hiding his frustration. Those years when he should have been going out with his mates, meeting girls, getting drunk—he stayed at home with me and made sure I did my homework. Or he worked, in part time jobs here and there, whatever he could get. I adored him for that, and I was determined not to disappoint him. I worked hard through school and then at university. I wanted him to be proud of me.”
“He sounded it,” Aaron said, smiling.
“Oh he is—I know that. We’re very close, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything. But it also made me… I don’t know, timid, I suppose, unless I’m just like that naturally. I didn’t date anyone at high school, nor at university, not until right at the end, when I met Mal. He was young, good looking, smart, funny…”
“I hate him already.”
She chuckled. “He played rugby—half my year level idolized him. I didn’t think I stood a chance with a guy like him, but to be fair he was patient and gentle with me. He wasn’t all bad. I had stars in my eyes for years. I suppose he knew that I loved him more than he did me, and that allowed him to string me along.”
“And now? Do you still love him?” She’d asked him the same question, and he wondered, when her hurt and humiliation died down, whether she would go back for more.
“No.” Her tone was flat, emotionless. “I can’t imagine any excuse he could come up with that would justify what he did to me. If he loved me, he would never have abandoned me like that. It was a horrible thing to do to someone. I wouldn’t have done it to my worst enemy, let alone the person I professed to love. He had plenty of time to tell me he was having second thoughts. I don’t believe that everything was fine right up until this morning, and suddenly he changed his mind. I don’t think he had any intention of going through with it, and that in itself is enough to make me despise him.”
Aaron didn’t particularly want to stand up for the guy, and he knew her brother thought keeping Mal’s words secret would help her get over him, but he couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her eyes. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “It’s possible he didn’t think it through and just panicked this morning, and that he didn’t mean to hurt you. You said he wasn’t all bad, and it certainly sounds as if he’s always had feelings for you. Apparently when he saw Hitch, he said he was sorry, and that he still loves you and still wants to marry you.”
Her eyes met his, thoughtful, puzzled. “Did Hitch tell you not to tell me what he said?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I suppose he thought it might make you inclined to forgive Mal, and it sounds as if he wants to murder the guy—I’m sure the last thing he wants is for you to get back with him.”
“So why are you telling me?”
“It’s not my place to withhold information from you. I think you should know all the facts before you make a decision.”
She sucked her bottom lip. He couldn’t help but drop his gaze to it. As he watched, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, a tiny, innocent gesture that nevertheless sent his pulse pounding. He raised his gaze back to hers, his heart missing a beat to see her eyes fixed on his.
They looked at each other for a long moment, and Aaron’s head spun. Something shifted inside him, making him catch his breath, the world slanting as if someone had tipped the camera and skewed the shot. He almost gripped the edge of the table so he didn’t fall off his chair. She felt it too—he saw it in the flare of her eyes, the parting of her lips. It took all the willpower he possessed not to lean across the table and press his lips to hers.
He reined himself in sharply. For fuck’s sake, Reed. He had to get things in perspective. He didn’t believe in Fate. It had been pure coincidence that he’d been the one walking past her on the quay at that exact moment. Their meeting wasn’t written in the stars—she wasn’t his soul mate or anything else remotely romantic like that. What he was feeling at the moment was a connection born out of a false intimacy, the kind that grew when actors worked together on a movie set. The last time he’d acted on impulse, he’d set off a sequence of events that had ended in nothing but misery. He had to be cautious and sensible.
“What do you think I should do?” she whispered.
“It’s not my place to say.”
“Even so.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Tell him to fuck off and die. Find a decent guy who’ll worship the ground you walk on.”
Her lips gradually curved up. “I see.”
“I’m sure your brother would agree with me.”
“I’m sure he would, too.” She rubbed her nose, her eyes shining.
It was getting dark in the room. He stood and walked over to the kitchenette, switched the small lights on opposite the bed, then picked up the half-full bag of Maltesers and brought them back. Sitting at the table, he tipped some of them out and rolled them toward her. She took one and popped it in her mouth, and he did the same.
“So what do you want to do?” He sucked off the chocolate, then crunched the honeycomb. “Do you want to give him another chance?”
She crunched hers. Then she shook her head. “No. I’m done.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed and then popped another chocolate in her mouth. “I appreciate what you said about him not meaning to hurt me, but he did, and I can’t forgive that.”
“I’m glad.”
She turned her head and rested her cheek on her drawn-up knees, still looking at him. “I think I’ve gone back to him all this time because I’ve been frightened about being on my own. I lost my parents, and Hitch loves to travel, so he’s away a lot… I was scared of being alone. And I know that relationships take work. Everyone says that, and I was determined that mine wouldn’t fail. I didn’t want to fail, you know? And standing on the quay, I thought I had failed, and that I was going to be alone forever. And then you came along.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sir Lancelot.”
His lips curved up. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Oh, come on. You’re a vet. I heard what you said to your ex about three dogs and two cats. You must have spent your life rescuing lost things.”
“That is true, actually. But I don’t think you should put yourself in that class. I didn’t rescue you. I don’t think you would have jumped into the harbor. You were upset and needed comfort, but I think you’re very strong deep down. Even if I hadn’t been there, you would have worked out what to do.”
Chapter Seven
Bridget smiled at him, his words warming her through. What a lovely thing to tell her after she’d been so pathetic and sobbed all over his bathroom floor. This guy always seemed to know the right thing to say.
“Maybe,” she said. “I’m not so sure. I still don’t know what to do. Not about Mal. That’s clear. I mean… in general. I don’t know that I can go back to the way I was as if nothing’s happened.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“My friends and I run a lingerie business called Four Seasons.”
“Oh? The shop in the high street?”
“That’s the one. My friend Callie runs the business, Rowan designs the clothing, Neve does all the marketing, and I’m in charge of the shop itself. I organize all the stock, help the customers with fittings, that sort of thing.”
“Nice.”
Earlier, he’d looked into her eyes and the desire there had made her heart race. She’d k
nown it was ridiculous—she’d just met the guy, for Christ’s sake—she couldn’t possibly have feelings for him already. Not today, hours from when her long-term boyfriend had ditched her at the altar. The absolute last thing she needed to think about was falling for a man because he’d shown her a fraction of kindness. That was rebound on a monumental scale.
She liked him, though. She couldn’t help it. He looked at her as if she was something precious, and that made her want to melt. At first she’d thought him the boy-next-door sort, kind and gentle, attractive in a cuddly teddy bear sort of way. Then he’d studied her lips as if he’d yearned to kiss her, and a sexy light had appeared in his eyes when she’d mentioned working with ladies’ underwear. It sent her heart hammering in a very non-teddy bear kind of way.
“It’s funny the reaction you get when you tell guys you work with lingerie,” she said, trying to ignore the shiver than ran down her spine.
“Do you get free samples?”
“Oh, we all wear the Four Seasons brand. Rowan likes to try out her new designs on us. The torsolette I wore today was from her Snow White range.”
“The what now?”
“Torsolette. It’s a camisole and a corset thing with garters.” She started to giggle. “You should see your face.”
“Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve had any connection with ladies’ underwear.”
“Oh? You haven’t dated anyone since you separated from your wife?”
“No. She’s been the only woman in my life for eight years.” He exhaled slowly, a sigh of resignation.
“It’s kind of scary, isn’t it? The dating game.”
His lips curved up. “Yeah, a bit.”
“It makes me wonder how many people stay together out of habit, because they’re too afraid to step into the ring again.”
“Or how many stay single because they hate the process of making themselves vulnerable. To love someone you have to open up, and if you’ve been hurt it makes it twice as difficult.”
She rolled a Malteser around with her finger. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to date again.”
Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) Page 5
