Learning to Love

by Sheryl Browne

  Andrea’s eyes flicked down then back to his – and then, in the space of a single heartbeat, they were in each other’s arms. David didn’t know who’d moved first. Didn’t care. Crushing his mouth hard against hers, he followed her back into the bathroom, nudging the door closed behind him. He wasn’t sure who was leading. No hesitation this time, their tongues entwining greedily, she tugged urgently at his shirt, dragging it up over his shoulders, pulling at it, almost scalping him as she struggled to free him of it.

  As frustrated as she, David yanked the restricting garment over his head, then, breathing hard, he reached for her shirt, easing it over her shoulders, and down over her arms, his eyes following in its wake; roving over her, drinking in her exquisite nakedness. She was beautiful. David swallowed, his heart beating so fast, it was in danger of leaping right out of his chest.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her gently, trailed his mouth down the slender length of her neck, softly caressing the satin-soft skin of her shoulders, the lush curve of her breasts. Slowly, wetting first one ripe nipple with his lips, then the other, he circled each with a thumb, his need escalating as a low moan escaped her.

  Oh, how he wanted her.

  David closed his eyes and found her mouth again with his tongue. With fumbling fingers, Andrea sought his waistband. Pausing again, out of necessity of breathing, fear and sweet anticipation running through him, David ran his hands longingly over her body, and then paused. ‘You’re beautiful, do you know that?’ he whispered.

  Gliding his hands over her hips, he continued to caress her with softly spoken words, with his hands tentatively exploring, easing fabric aside, then stroking, more sure and certain as she responded. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I shouldn’t be rushi—’

  Andrea cut him short, gasping out a breath as he slid a finger inside her.

  ‘Perfect,’ David murmured, circling her waist with one arm, pulling her close and lifting her to him. Making sure her back found the wall behind her, he held her tight, held her eyes. Then closed his own as her body arched the second he entered her. His own breathing ragged, his heart thrumming a steady drumbeat in his chest, David tried to pace himself, slow, measured thrusts, then, aware of where they were, how great his need was, he groaned and moved faster.

  Moaning, Andrea caught his urgent rhythm, matching his tempo, building to exquisite climax – at the precise second he whispered her name.

  ‘Amazing,’ David said huskily, kissing her forehead, her lips, then stopping, and listening; and panting out a different kind of groan as the bloody, bloody doorbell rang.

  ‘Shit!’ he growled, dropping his head to her shoulder. ‘Who the hell can that be?’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Sophie called from downstairs, ‘seeing as no one else is.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Easing away from her, David apologised. ‘I, er … No regrets?’ He looked at her, concerned.

  ‘No,’ Andrea said quickly, moving hurriedly away from him to search for her clothes.

  Dammit! Pulling on his own clothes and quietly cursing his impulsiveness, David turned to the door, as Andrea, clearly flustered, turned to make herself decent. Frustrated, furious with himself for rushing her, albeit slow sex wasn’t an option, David headed down the stairs, praying they hadn’t done something Andrea would regret, also hoping that they could find some space to talk soon. There was so much he needed to say, starting with how much he loved her. Why hadn’t he bloody well said so just now? Instead, he says, No regrets? He really did despair of himself sometimes. Did she realise how he felt? Did she feel remotely the same? Damn! He should not have rushed her. How could she know what she was feeling with her emotions all over the place?

  Sighing inwardly, determined to try to get Andrea on her own to establish how she did feel before creating more chaos in her life, David reached the hall, and his thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt. ‘Sally?’

  ‘David.’ Sally gave him a tight smile. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘About?’ David eyed her warily.

  ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’ Sally asked.

  David glanced uncomfortably towards the lounge, where the film seemed to be in full swing. ‘Can it wait?’ He played for time, concerned at how confrontational the conversation might be, given how they’d parted. ‘It’s not really very convenient right now.’

  Sally looked at him, then without a word, she turned to walk into the kitchen.

  Perplexed, David followed, supposing he couldn’t really do much else.

  Pushing the door to, he turned to face her, eyeing her apprehensively.

  Sally eyed him levelly. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Steadying herself against the bedroom door, Andrea tried to compose herself. What had she been thinking? Her family only hearing distance away and she’d had sex with David!

  Oh no. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to make some sense of her feelings, of her situation. There was none, she realised, wiping a hot tear from her face. Her heart had taken rein of her emotions. She hadn’t had sex with David. She’d made love with him.

  She was in love with him. That realisation finally dawning, Andrea pulled in a long breath. She loved him. And her family was actually minus one, she reminded herself: Jonathan, whose feelings for her these last few days, few months, appeared to amount to none.

  Andrea nodded. So be it. She dragged her hair from her face and, peeling herself from the door, she went to check on Chloe and to search for her trackie bottoms.

  She had no idea how David felt. No, that wasn’t true. It was there, in his eyes. Far from cold and indifferent, distant and uncaring, as Jonathan’s were, David’s were full of concern, full of desire … she caught a flutter in her tummy that spiralled downward to her pelvis and all the way up to her heart … of undisguised longing, for her.

  She doubted it was just lust. She was a mother of three, for goodness’ sake, what was there to lust after? Did he feel the same way? Could his feelings ever be as strong as hers? What she felt for David was much more than sexual attraction. In a world where the sand seemed to be shifting under her feet and nothing was certain, Andrea was sure of that. She wanted to be with him. In time obviously; the children’s feelings were paramount, but Ryan liked him. Sophie definitely did, she’d cried on his shoulder, even dropped the Miss Moody attitude for a while. Chloe adored him. Chloe …

  Jonathan’s little girl.

  But where was her father when she needed him?

  And what about Jake? Andrea knew she could easily love the lonely little boy who seemed to have at last come out of his shell. Jake liked her, too, didn’t he? He worshipped Ryan. Could it work, with careful handling? Had David even contemplated such a complicated future? Had he contemplated any kind of future together, or was she racing ahead of herself?

  Only one way to find out. Tugging on her trackies, Andrea steeled herself to go down and ask him.

  Hoping her cheeks didn’t look as flushed as they felt, Andrea poked her head around the lounge door. ‘Where’s David?’ she asked, ever-so-casually.

  ‘Conservatory,’ Sophie informed her, her eyes glued to the TV, as were Ryan’s and Jake’s. Dee was ‘resting her eyes’, puffing out little snores as she did. She looked content, for the first time in a long while. Andrea smiled, retracted her telltale face and turned for the kitchen. ‘With Sally,’ Sophie added behind her.

  ‘Sally?’ Oh? David hadn’t said. But then, perhaps he’d been giving her time to get decently dressed. Feeling her cheeks flush afresh, Andrea had a quick drink of water from the kitchen sink then, no visible evidence of her illicit liaison evident – she hoped – she fixed a smile on her face and headed for the conservatory. Then stopped short of the doors.

  Facing towards her, Sally looked upset. Her arms wrapped about herself, her eyes downcast, her body language was tense and her face seemed to be bereft of make-up? But Sally wouldn’t normally take in her milk without wearing her make-up. What on earth …?

  Andrea’s attention was
drawn to David. His back towards her, he seemed tense, too, agitated almost, dragging a hand through his hair, over his neck, taking a step towards Sally … Shaking his head now and turning to drop heavily onto a conservatory chair.

  Swallowing back a growing feeling of trepidation, Andrea reached for the sliding doors, both Sally’s and David’s attention snapping towards her as she stepped inside.

  ‘Sally …?’ She looked her friend over worriedly.

  Lowering her eyes again, Sally pulled in a shuddery breath, then, ‘Andrea, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I think you should know.’ She notched up her chin as she looked back at her. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Pregnant? Andrea stared at her, stunned for a second, then, ‘But that’s wonderful news!’ She laughed, overjoyed for her friend. After all poor Sally had been through, this was just so amazing. Andrea couldn’t quite believe it.

  ‘I’m so pleased for you, sweetie,’ she said, taking a step towards her, then stopping. Sally didn’t look pleased. If anything, she looked utterly miserable. Andrea glanced towards David, who also looked troubled. Very troubled. Andrea’s tummy flipped over. Sally had come to see him. David hadn’t announced her arrival, because she’d come to see him.

  Oh, no, not again. Surely this time, Sally could keep the child she so desperately wanted. ‘Sally is there a problem?’ Andrea asked gently. ‘Do you need to …’ she trailed off as Sally lowered her gaze again, as if she couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

  Concern mounting inside her, Andrea glanced back to David. ‘David?’

  He wouldn’t look at her either. His hands clasped between his knees, he glanced down, his shoulders visibly sinking.

  Andrea’s heart lurched. ‘David?’

  David said nothing. Instead, he pressed his thumbs against his forehead, then, finally, he glanced at her. Just a glance, but Andrea could see the answer to the question she absolutely didn’t want to ask. It was there, in his oh-so-telling eyes. Where, a short while ago she thought she’d perceived love, his eyes were now a kaleidoscope of confused emotion: anguish, sorrow, puzzlement … shame.

  Feeling as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, Andrea stood rooted to the spot. An hour-long second passed by, the palpable guilt-ridden silence punctuated only by the loud tick of the conservatory clock. It was his. The baby was his.

  Nausea gripped her. The floor tilted off-kilter. Andrea backed towards the doors, stumbled on the doorjamb as she went, and then panic-struck at the thought of involving the children in the inevitable fallout, she yanked the back door open and fled.

  The garden was overgrown, she thought numbly. There were far grander weeds fighting for space here than those on her patch of land in the playground. The old shed was dilapidated. A downpipe to the back of the house cracked and water dripped.

  Why hadn’t he tackled this, instead of magnanimously offering to help her at the school? Why indeed. She’d been such a fool. Her heart had ruled her head, because like a silly love-struck teenager, she’d allowed it to. Allowed him to …

  No regrets. His words as they’d finished. He’d wanted sex. That was all. An illicit fuck just for the thrill of it. Could she ever have been more naïve? Swallowing back a sob, Andrea tightened her arms about herself, a shiver running through her that had nothing to do with the cold night air. She’d have plenty of time to tackle her school garden project now, wouldn’t she? Her Second Chance Designer dream would have to go on the back burner, despite Eva’s efforts to convince her otherwise. Her house had disappeared into the ether. She had no choice but to put her business plans on hold while she sorted her life out. And now her friendship with Sally had been destroyed too. Things could never be the same between them again. Why hadn’t she told her? Why hadn’t he told her? Damn David Adams! The bastard obviously hadn’t got a heart.

  What would she do? Where would she go? Jonathan’s remark when she’d suggested they stay at a hotel together had summed up the state of their relationship. ‘Do you think there’s any point?’ he’d said. Maybe that’s what she’d wanted to hear.

  Determined not to cry, to be strong for her family, Andrea looked to the stars, hoping for answers. There were none, of course, no magical fixes. It was up to her to pick up the pieces and find a way forward. And she would, because that’s what she’d always done, for her children. Sophie and Ryan had been better off without their father in their lives, a violent aggressive man. They’d be better off without Jonathan, too, who seemed not to even care if they had a roof over their heads.

  As for David Adams, who was obviously a weak, womanising liar, the sooner she was out from under his roof the better. Feeling chilled to the very core, Andrea waited a moment longer, trying to compose herself before going back in to her family, who absolutely did need her.

  She’d have to find alternative accommodation, she realised. Now. Tonight. She’d book into a hotel short-term and then rent somewhere. She needn’t offer explanations to Jonathan. She needed to talk to him, yes, but the arguments … She’d had enough of those. As for David …

  ‘Andrea,’ he said quietly behind her, causing her battered heart to leap into her throat.

  Andrea closed her eyes. She didn’t want to speak to him. Have anything to do with him, ever.

  ‘You’ll freeze to death out here.’ David took a step closer. Andrea could feel him. She could smell him, the aftershave she seemed to be permanently bathed in, the musky male smell of him.

  Destabilised, she didn’t answer for a moment, then, ‘Is that less painful, do you think, David, than dying from a broken heart?’ she asked him, a solitary tear warming her cheek.

  ‘Andrea …’ David spoke her name again, which hurt all over again. ‘Please come inside. We need to talk.’ He reached for her, placing a hand gently on her arm.

  ‘Don’t.’ Andrea stiffened, a physical pain running through her at his touch. ‘Please don’t.’

  David sighed heavily, but dropped his hand away.

  ‘Is it yours?’ Andrea asked, because she had to. There was no anger in her voice, no venom. She simply hadn’t got the energy.

  ‘Apparently, yes,’ David said, after a pause.

  Andrea turned to face him. ‘Apparently?’ She eyed him quizzically.

  David glanced away. ‘Sally seems to think so, yes.’ He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I have no idea how—’

  ‘No idea how?’ Andrea almost laughed. Would have, if the comment wasn’t so utterly absurd. ‘I take it you struggled with the basic reproductive system in medical school, then?’

  Emitting another sigh, David shoved his hands into his pockets and studied his shoes.

  ‘Obviously you didn’t struggle too much with female anatomy, though, did you?’ He’d known where to touch her, how to touch her, setting fire to every nerve in her body, bringing her to such a sweet orgasm, she’d felt she might weep. No love there, though. No caring.

  David glanced back at her, quiet pleading in his eyes. ‘It was a mistake, Andrea. I—’

  ‘A mistake?’ Andrea stared at him, astounded. ‘The same mistake you made when you slipped up and landed in bed with someone other than your wife, the woman who was carrying your child?’ Now her words carried venom. Now she was angry. ‘And then wondered why the neighbours gossiped? Well, welcome to the world, Doctor Adams. That’s what people do around people who invite it!’

  David met her eyes full on at last, a flash of anger in his own. ‘No, not the same,’ he said quietly. ‘I was married then. I cheated on Michelle and hurt her as much as a man could hurt a woman. I know that, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.’

  Andrea’s gaze faltered. She believed him, that bit at least. She could never trust him again, but she did believe that bit. ‘Was it Sally?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’ David looked at her, confused.

  ‘Sally. Was she the someone you had an affair with while you were married?’

  ‘No! There was no affair! I … Christ, what a mess.’ David ran his hand shakily through his hair. �
�Sally and I met, once, in a hotel bar about two months back. I was at a conference. She was—’

  ‘Spying on her husband,’ Andrea finished, recalling what Sally had said about following Nick on his business trip.

  ‘Yes.’ David nodded wearily. ‘She was lonely, needed someone to talk to. I was lonely …’

  ‘So you talked, and then went upstairs and had sex?’

  David drew in a sharp breath. ‘That’s about the gist of it, yes.’

  ‘But it’s not, is it?’ Andrea looked him over. ‘There’s a whole lot more to it. There’s a baby, David!’

  ‘I know.’ Dragging his hand yet again over his neck, David glanced skywards. ‘I know.’ He looked back at her, his expression one of tired despair. ‘I’m so sorry, Andrea. I had no idea.’

  ‘Were you ever going to mention you’d slept with her, David?’

  ‘Yes,’ David said quickly. ‘Of course, I was. I just …’

  ‘Wanted to choose the right moment?’

  David exhaled slowly. ‘I suppose.’

  Andrea nodded thoughtfully. ‘And that right moment was obviously going to be after you’d had sex with me, wasn’t it, David?’ She kept it clinical, purely physical. It hurt less that way.

  ‘No!’ David locked alarmed eyes with hers. ‘I mean, I didn’t think we … Jesus, Andrea, what happened between us wasn’t about sex. You must know how I feel.’

  ‘I don’t know how you feel, David, do I? I don’t know you, other than what you’ve told me.’

  David looked at her levelly. ‘The truth.’

  ‘The truth?’ Andrea was really incredulous now. ‘Apart from the one or two inconsequential little things you forgot to tell me? Or was it more than that, David? Three? Four? A hundred?’

  ‘Two! Twice. Bloody hell, Andrea …’

  And that made it all right? She forced back the tears she desperately didn’t want to cry in front of him, again. ‘And I thought Jonathan was being devious. You take the biscuit, David, you really do.’ Shaking her head, Andrea moved to walk past him.