Marooned with the Millionaire

by Nina Milne

  ‘You’re right. I don’t mean it.’ He gestured at the bottle. ‘Drink?’

  ‘No, thank you. I don’t understand. Why aren’t you relieved?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He sank onto the state-of-the-art sofa, drink in hand. ‘I guess this was my shot. My one chance to be a dad.’ He shook his head as if in disbelief at his own words.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be. If you want a child you could adopt.’

  ‘No. I’ve told you already that wouldn’t be fair. There are plenty of couples like Louise and Bill out there, who can offer a child way more than I can. It would be selfish of me, unfair to them and to any child to take one. What I had to offer this baby was my blood; he or she would have been a baby I could have felt would be better off with me.’

  ‘You have plenty to offer. You will be a wonderful dad. I can see that from the way you are with Charlie, the way you are with Gemma and Blake and Mia. I can see it, full-stop. More than that, you told me not to limit myself—neither should you. Try to meet a woman. Maybe the next time you opt for “physical gratification”, don’t walk away. Try a date instead. Give it a shot.’

  Yet even as she said it emotion squeezed her gut at the idea of Marcus with another woman—Marcus holding another woman’s baby.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m not cut out to be a family man.’

  Bitterness infused his tone as he placed the crystal tumbler on the table with a thunk.

  ‘I told you my parents died—I didn’t tell you how. They died in a fire. They got high and must have decided to light candles, or cook something. I woke up to the smell of smoke. I rushed to find Elvira but she wasn’t there. My parents must have taken her out of her cot. I legged it into the lounge. The flames were awful. I found Elvira but I couldn’t wake my parents up. I got Elvira out and then... I didn’t go back in. Our neighbours held me back, said it was too dangerous.’

  April released the breath she hadn’t even realised she held. ‘Then you couldn’t have gone back in.’

  He picked the glass up, cradled it in one hand. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. Maybe I could have fought harder—maybe I should have fought harder. Nothing would have stopped me going back in if Elvira had still been in there. I hesitated for just a minute, and in that minute the roof caved in.’

  ‘Where were the emergency services?’

  ‘On their way. They were too late.’

  April didn’t know what else to say. She could picture the scene in vivid detail: the choking, gagging fog of smoke, the intensity of heat from the red-orange flames shooting up into the dark Lycander sky...the same sky she could see right now. And the twelve-year-old boy watching, knowing that inside the building his parents lay, unable to help themselves.

  ‘You cannot blame yourself.’

  ‘Who would you suggest I blame?’

  ‘Anyone but yourself. What happened was a tragedy, but it was brought about by a chain of circumstances and choices that were not your fault.’

  ‘One of those choices was mine.’

  ‘You didn’t make a choice—you hesitated for a moment. That is not the same thing at all. Plus, your neighbours were right—you might well have died if you’d gone in.’

  He raised a hand. ‘Enough. I appreciate you’re trying to make me feel better, but you can’t. That moment of hesitation changed everything, and whilst I can’t go back and change it I can at least learn from it.’

  But what had he learnt? Not to love or be loved. No wonder he had never been able to let Louise and Bill in. She could only imagine the immense guilt he must feel about accepting love from a different set of parents.

  No wonder he felt he was unworthy of love—he believed he had contributed to his parents’ death. Just as she believed she had contributed to Edward’s. So if she couldn’t make him feel better, perhaps she could at least let him know she understood.

  ‘You’re right. I can’t make you feel better. But I do understand.’

  She moved closer to the sofa, wanting him to see her face.

  ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. Dean and I had a baby. A little boy called Edward.’

  His hand jerked and whisky slopped over the side of the glass he had picked up once again. He deposited it on a table as he rose to stand beside her.

  But she stepped away.

  ‘Don’t—please. I don’t want to break down. I just want to say it. I told you about the disaster that was my marriage...how Dean made me feel like nothing. But somewhere, somehow I found the courage to leave him. I had it all planned. But the plans went wrong. Because, you see, I made a stupid decision—tried to be too clever. I should have walked straight out. Instead I decided to pack. Dean found me, guessed what I intended and went nuts. Snatched Edward. I couldn’t stop him. He swatted me aside as though I truly was nothing. He ran off with our son, put him in the car and drove off. He’d been drinking, he didn’t secure Edward properly, and there was a storm—rain pouring down, visibility atrocious. There was an accident and they both died.’

  Marcus opened his mouth but she shook her head.

  ‘There is nothing you can say. Nothing anyone can say. When I lost Edward I lost everything. I fell apart, sank into a pit of despair. The only reason I climbed out was because of my family—they cared for me, looked after me, and I pulled myself out, created a new life for myself. A life that I can manage. A cage, if you like, but it’s better than the pit. I still know how it feels to look back and see that line in the sand—the before and after, the moment when if you could go back you could change history.’

  Now he stepped forward and took her in his arms, held her tight, so close that she could feel the strength of his compassion, his sympathy, his empathy, the extent of how much he cared. She wrapped her arms around him and returned the pressure.

  When he spoke it was over her head, his voice raw with emotion. ‘I wish with all my heart that I could turn back the clock for you—that I could somehow protect you from the loss and pain you have endured.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Eventually they pulled apart and he looked at her, his dark eyes intense. ‘Stay,’ he said, the one word filled with meaning.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘In the meadow I asked you to stay in Lycander. I’m asking again. Stay. Here. With me. For a week, a month, a few days.’

  For a stupid, wonderful instant she wanted to say yes, to stay for a while—but then she shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t work. Right now you’re feeling sorry for me, and that is no basis for any sort of relationship.’

  ‘This isn’t to do with pity.’

  ‘Then what is it to do with?’

  ‘I want to spend more time with you. Isn’t that what you suggested I do? Go on a date? Try for more than short-term physical gratification?’

  ‘I did. But not with me.’ Tears prickled the back of her eyes and she blinked hard, refusing to allow them exit.

  He reached out and took both her hands in his, his grasp gentle and yet full of strength and reassurance. ‘Yes, with you,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we spend some time together because we want to? See where it could go. No expectations, no promises...’

  ‘I can’t do that.’ The very idea caused panic, a visceral fear, to judder through her. ‘And you deserve a woman who can—a woman there’s the possibility of a future with. I have nothing left to give. I can only maintain my cage—my insulated bubble, as I prefer to think of it. These past weeks I’ve ventured out—with you. I’ve had a taste of the world outside my bubble. I’ve experienced joy and happiness and anger, and I’ve witnessed pain and suffering. Now I need to go back into my bubble.’

  Hurt flashed across his face, followed by acceptance, and in that instant she knew exactly what he was thinking. That he wasn’t enough—wasn’t enough to make her want to stay out of her c
age. That what he had to offer was insufficient.

  ‘It’s not you.’ How could she make those clichéd words real? ‘Don’t you see? I can’t do it. It’s too much, too scary.’ And he deserved so much more than her.

  ‘It’s OK.’

  His deep voice soothed her.

  ‘I understand—and you’re right. It was a stupid idea. Not because of you, but because of me. I hope that one day someone will come along and entice you out of that bubble.’

  Helplessness assailed her, along with an absurd desire either to pummel his chest with her fists or throw herself against him and burst into tears.

  Could she agree? Could she stay with him? See what happened?

  No. Because she knew what would happen. She would fall for him...plummet into an abyss of emotion that she could not deal with. So all she could do was get out. But the thought of leaving—right here and now like this, when they had both shared so much—seemed impossible. Seemed wrong.

  ‘That won’t happen,’ she heard herself say. ‘But I hope that one day you will find happiness and love and have the chance to be a dad. I know you’ll make a great one.’

  And still she couldn’t bring herself to leave...couldn’t pull her hands from his. Realisation hit her like lead. It was too late—she had already fallen. She loved him, and was already mid-tumble into a mire of sensation and feelings.

  No. She punched the knowledge aside in sheer repudiation. This wasn’t love—it was confusion...a need to say goodbye properly.

  She looked up at him. ‘Marcus?’

  The word was half-question, half-entreaty.

  ‘Could we...could we have one more night?’

  There was no need for further words. He pulled her into his arms and relief, gratitude and desire enmeshed her. A small moan escaped her lips, and then all else was forgotten in their bittersweet embrace as he swept her up into his arms and carried her from the room.

  * * *

  Marcus opened his eyes and knew that April was gone. His whole being was bereft, even as he felt some grim satisfaction that he had kept the promise she had extracted from him in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘Please let me say goodbye now.’

  Her hair had been tickling his chin and his arms had been wrapped around her. He hadn’t wanted her to say goodbye at all. But he’d respected her wishes and agreed.

  Of course he’d known when she’d woken—had forced himself to remain still as she’d slipped from the bed, quietly picked up her clothes and dropped a feather-light kiss on his cheek before she’d tiptoed out of the room. And out of his life. Because shortly after that he’d heard the door click shut and had known that April was gone.

  He needed to get on with his life—there could have been no future with April. He had been a fool even to contemplate any deviation from his path.

  April had been through so much—had worked out a way to live her life despite the tragedy she had experienced. He could offer her nothing, really, except perhaps medium-term gratification. For a mad moment he’d been allowed a glimpse of a different future—had had a vision of himself as a dad—but he knew now it had been nothing but an illusion. April had been sensible enough to see that and to reject the insubstantial offer he had made her.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself the memory of the past few hours—hours of such bittersweet joy that his gut wrenched at the knowledge they would never be repeated. He’d never hold April in his arms again, never caress her skin, hear her laugh or...

  Enough.

  He’d survived for years without April and he’d survive now. There was work to be done and plenty of it.

  Swinging himself out of bed, he headed for the bathroom, closing his senses to the elusive drift of April’s perfume—the delicate rose that hitched his breath in his chest. Avoiding the kitchen, he left the house as soon as possible.

  Yet everywhere seemed to hold a memory, and by evening his head pounded with the effort of not thinking.

  A knock on the office door elicited a sigh and a terse, ‘Come in.’ Surprise raised his brows as Louise entered, a tentative smile on her face. He couldn’t remember either Louise or Bill ever coming to his office without prior arrangement.

  Maybe because you made it plain they weren’t welcome.

  He could almost hear April’s voice and now infused his own with defensive cheer. ‘Louise! How lovely to see you. I was going to call later to thank you and Bill for everything you’ve done. Sunita said you’ve been fantastic in the nursery.’

  ‘I was glad to help. Those poor parents needed somewhere they knew their children would be safe and fed and looked after whilst they tried to put their lives back together. But that’s not why I’m here. I got a thank-you message from April, but I understand that she has now left Lycander?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I saw the way you looked at each other last week and I thought... I hoped that maybe you two were together.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you have feelings for her?’

  Marcus blinked at her, feeling a touch flummoxed. He and Louise quite simply did not have conversations like this.

  ‘I...’

  Louise continued almost chattily. ‘I think you do. Maybe you even love her.’

  The words seemed to come from a long way away, and then they exploded in a sonic boom around him. Love. He loved April. The idea was so ginormous, so huge, so terrifying he couldn’t even summon the ability to deny it.

  ‘I...it doesn’t matter if I do. I asked her to stay and she didn’t.’

  Louise looked at him as if he were missing a few brain cells. ‘Did you tell her how you feel or did you just let her go?’

  ‘I let her go. You can’t make people love you.’

  ‘No, you can’t. But you can try to persuade them. I know I’m biased, but what’s not to love? You are kind, generous, strong, brave and loyal.’

  His body flinched in automatic rejection of the words and Louise leant forward, placed her hands on his desk.

  ‘Marcus. There are things that I should have said before. Things I didn’t say because you never wished to speak of them and I thought it best not to. Perhaps I was simply too much of a coward. That fire was not your fault and neither was the death of your parents. It was a tragedy brought about by the choices your parents made. The choices you have made in your life have been principled and honourable. You were twelve years old but you saved Elvira—at great risk to yourself.’

  ‘But I didn’t save them.’

  ‘No. You didn’t. And no one expected you to. You would have died if you had gone back into that building and that would have been an even bigger tragedy. You are a good person, Marcus, and I am proud that you are my son. Now believe in yourself. If you love April tell her so. Don’t leave it too late, like I have with you.’

  ‘It’s not too late.’

  Marcus moved around the desk and without thought took this wonderful woman into his arms. ‘I love you too, and when I get back we’ll talk. You and me and Dad.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ Louise made a shooing motion. ‘Now, go.’

  And with that she left.

  Before he could even begin to think about their conversation there was another knock on the door and Frederick entered.

  Marcus rose to his feet.

  ‘I have come to grant you leave of absence so you can go and find April,’ said Frederick.

  Marcus blinked. ‘I wasn’t aware I’d taken out a social media advert proclaiming my emotional state.’

  ‘I am not an idiot. Plus I recognise the signs. It’s not so long ago that you told me to go after the woman I loved. I am here to return the favour. Go. But before you do—your father is waiting to see you.’

  Marcus guessed he shouldn’t be surprised.

  Frederick left and Bill entered, for all the wo
rld as if this were some Broadway show: Exit the Prince, stage left. Enter the father, stage right.

  Stepping forward he shook hands with Bill, who looked at him apologetically.

  ‘I know Louise has just been here, but I wanted to wish you luck and echo what she said. I’m proud of you, and I couldn’t have wished for a better son.’ His adoptive dad grinned slightly awkwardly. ‘And I hope we can spend a bit more time together in the future.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ And he meant every word.

  Bill held out a hand. ‘Good luck with April. Take a tip from me and don’t give up. I didn’t have it easy with Louise, you know. She had some damn fool idea in her head that because she couldn’t have kids I wouldn’t want her. I told her that all I wanted in the world was her, and it was true. And then we were blessed with you and Elvira, so we did good. So will you.’

  If only it could be that easy. He knew everyone meant well, but they seemed to believe that April would just fall into his arms, and Marcus knew damn well that it wouldn’t be that simple. The odds of her loving him back seemed remote. Perhaps she would elect to keep walking away and not look back.

  His stomach clenched and then he thumped the desk. No. He would not think like that. He was a fighter and, so help him, he would fight for April like he had never fought before.

  * * *

  April stared out of the window at the London drizzle. It suited her mood—grey, miserable, dull—and she was missing Marcus with an ache she didn’t want to acknowledge. Her desolation was deep, poignant...as though a part of her was missing.

  And it wasn’t only Marcus—she missed Lycander, the community centre, the people, even Roberto the chauffeur, whom she had bonded with over their mutual love of chocolate.

  She gave another sigh—one she tried to swallow as her father walked in. She summoned a smile, though from Alex Fotherington’s expression he wasn’t fooled for an instant.

  ‘Come on, petal. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?’

  ‘Me. I’m just all wrong—befuddled and confused and—’

  ‘I’m glad.’