She bit her lip, letting her hand rest on the glass as she took in the sight of the seat of British politics, the location of so many key moments in the history of the country. She’d dreamed of those Gothic buildings all through her degree course. She had been so sure that that was where she was headed. She’d be up close with the people making those decisions, holding them to account and providing the checks and balances that ensured a fair and accountable system of government.
But instead she was up here. Looking down on the Palace of Westminster like the tourist she would be if she turned up there now. From this height, it looked like a model. A toy. It might as well not be real for all the chance she had of working there now.
Finn’s hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped, realising she’d forgotten that he was there. She had been so wrapped up in her dreams and her lost hopes that she’d forgotten she was meant to be helping him out. That was the whole point of her being here.
‘Are the babies okay?’ she asked, angling to try and see them in the pushchair.
‘They’re zonked. They must like the movement of the wheel. What’s going on with you? You’re miles away.’
She couldn’t help a quick glance out of the pod towards Parliament before she answered. ‘I’m fine. I’m great.’
Finn frowned. Really, this mind-reading ability was getting kind of annoying. ‘You haven’t taken your eyes off Big Ben for a full five minutes.’
God, why did he have to be so perceptive?
‘You studied politics, right? I’m sure Jake told me that.’
Madeleine made a noise that she hoped sounded vague enough not to prompt any questions. But Finn was a talker. How had she not noticed that before? Because she’d never given herself a chance to. She’d dodged conversations with him for as long as she could remember.
‘You know, the more you avoid my questions the more curious I’m going to get.’
She glanced up at him, finally taking her eyes off the view.
‘I’m not going to push you. But if you want to talk, I’m right here.’
Right here.
He was. So close. The crush of people around them only served to push them closer to one another.
‘I know.’ But she couldn’t talk about that. About university or her career—or lack of it. The spectre of what might have been. A weird sadness for how things might have turned out. It was too painful to touch. Especially with him; he had a way of looking at her that made her feel raw. Exposed. She wasn’t going to volunteer to peel off another layer of skin for him.
She wrapped her arms around her body as she turned deliberately away from the river and pasted a sunny smile on her face. She waited for it to reflect on Finn’s lips, but he just kept staring at her in that unnerving way. Well, he was either a sociopath or he could see straight through her fakery. At this point she couldn’t be sure which of those two possibilities was the scarier.
‘What do you want to do next?’ Finn asked, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the change of subject. ‘We could find somewhere for our picnic. Or choose one of the restaurants or cafés we walked past, if you’ve changed your mind.’
‘No, a picnic sounds good. If these monsters wake up, I think I’ll be glad of the lack of people staring.’
‘Oh, people can still stare in the park,’ he informed her with a laugh. ‘Especially if they both get going.’
‘Well, that’s something to look forward to.’
She followed Finn as he pushed the pram out of the pod and down the ramp, and they weaved their way through the disorientated tourists standing around the exit gate. With barely a clipped ankle, he had them away from the crowds and exploring the streets winding away from the river.
‘Where are we headed?’ she asked as she lost track of where they were.
‘I heard there’s a little park down this way,’ he said. ‘I thought it might be quieter than staying by the river. You don’t mind?’
A literal change of scenery was exactly what she needed after ruminating on the failure of her career. And her failure to come to terms with it in the decade that had passed since.
When they reached the gardens, she let out a long breath. Emerald grass was dappled with sunshine filtered through lush trees. Spring flowers lingered in the shady spots and the grass was yet to be scorched by a harsh city summer. But, most delicious of all, it was silent. Somehow, in the walk away from the riverside, the bustle and noise of the city had fallen away, leaving only a blissful quiet. She heard herself let out a long deep breath and for the first time since she had arrived on Finn’s doorstep, tense and angry, she felt her shoulders relax.
‘Oh, my God, this place is amazing,’ Madeleine said, dropping to the grass and lying flat on her back before she could even be bothered to get the picnic blanket out. Finn laughed and dropped to sit beside her, his forearms resting casually on his knees.
‘Starved of grass?’ he asked with another laugh.
‘God, I didn’t even realise I was.’ She feathered the blades between her fingers, letting them tickle against her palm and slip through her hands. ‘And silence. I can’t believe how quiet this place is. How did you find it? Tell me your secret.’
She kept her eyes closed as she realised how intimate that sounded. There was safety in closed eyes. But vulnerability too. If he was watching her, she didn’t know it. She assessed her body, trying to sense whether his eyes were on her. But all she could feel was the sunshine, hot on her heavy limbs, and she decided she could live with that. She didn’t need to know if he was looking at her. She was happy not knowing, just soaking up the heat and the light and feeling the ghosts of the past twenty-four hours melting away.
She heard Finn stand, then the flap and rustle of the picnic blanket. Then he was lying beside her again. And with the tension gone from her body, awareness crept in.
They had lain side by side in the sandpit before. But they had been protected by the noise of the crowds along the riverside cafés and the squeals of children playing in the fountains. In this private garden they had lost that safety net. They had left home that morning for the protection of being out in public, to escape the heightened tensions of their temporarily shared home. But now they were alone again.
She opened her eyes and glanced across at Finn, only to find him propped up on one elbow, watching her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.
‘What?’ she asked, suddenly self-conscious, lifting herself onto her elbows. Too late, she realised what that did to her chest, but Finn’s eyes never headed south of her nose.
‘Nothing.’
‘Then why are you staring?’
‘I’m looking, not staring.’
‘Said the serial killer.’
Finn laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘You’re not what I was expecting.’
‘How can I surprise you? You’ve known me for ever.’
‘You’ve known me for just as long. You think I couldn’t surprise you?’
She thought back to last night. Not the mistaken assumption she had made, but the way that he had reacted to it. No judgement. No offence taken. Just concerned with making her feel safe. The whole focus of his quite brilliant brain directed at making her feel secure and unthreatened and safe. And it had taken some time to kick in but here, in the sunshine, she was happy. She knew her problems would be waiting for her when they walked out of this park, but in this quiet oasis she was calm and content.
Just as she thought she might actually drop off to sleep Finn’s phone rang, surprising her out of her sleepiness. She watched as he dug in his pocket to retrieve it and guessed the identity of the caller from the slight crease on his brow.
‘Caro, hey, how are you?’ he said, and Madeleine turned away, knowing that it would be rude to eavesdrop, but not sure what else she could do when they were the only people here.
‘No, they’re asl
eep,’ Finn said, and she knew that Caro must be asking about the babies. Finn angled the phone towards the pair of them sleeping in their pram, and Madeleine realised that they must be video calling. She wondered whether Caro could see her lying there on the grass. Whether Finn had told her that she was staying with them. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. She was just the help. Even if Caro did see her, it was up to Finn to let her know what was going on. Or not.
God, how had she even got herself down this train of thought? she asked herself. She sat up, trying to shake off the thoughts.
But, now that it had occurred to her, she couldn’t help but see this situation as an outsider would—the two of them alone in a park, the kids asleep, lying on a picnic blanket. If that were her husband...
Ex-husband, she reminded herself. Finn was Caro’s ex-husband, and had been for a year.
Why did that seem to matter to her all of a sudden? Both she and Finn couldn’t have been clearer with one another that what they had was nothing more than a practical arrangement between friends. Not even friends. Between two people who cared for Jake and were happy to do him a favour.
So why did she feel so uncomfortable now? Why did she feel the need to explain herself? She heard Finn saying his goodbyes and stared at a flowerbed across the park, trying to look completely uninterested in Finn talking to his ex-wife.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said as he slid his phone back into his jeans pocket.
‘No need to apologise,’ Madeleine said, probably a little too quickly for someone who was not meant to be listening to his conversation.
‘She hates it when they’re asleep when she calls,’ Finn said. ‘She’ll probably call back again in a bit if she can.’
‘It must be hard for her. She must really miss them. Hard for you too.’
He sighed. The smile she was used to seeing on his face was missing.
‘Her work is so important. But... I can’t lie... This wasn’t how I expected my marriage to turn out.’
‘Were you sad when it ended?’
She wasn’t sure what made her ask. Of course he had been sad. No one ended a marriage unscathed.
‘Sad, but not surprised.’
Madeleine held her breath, with the distinct impression that Finn needed to talk about this. She stayed silent, curious about whether he was going to open up to her again. What would it mean if he did? They had only spent a day in one another’s company, and already she had shared more about herself with Finn than she had with anyone else for years. If he was sharing too, then this wasn’t an arrangement any more. They were...friends.
‘I knew it was coming,’ Finn said. ‘The longer we were together, the more unhappy she became. I think when she decided to go, it was a relief for her. I...didn’t find it easy,’ Finn said, and Madeleine winced at what she guessed was a hell of an understatement.
‘Did you try—’ Madeleine started, then stopped herself. It was really none of her business. Even if they really were friends, it was surely an unwelcome degree of intrusion.
‘By the time she told me she was going, she didn’t want to try,’ he said. ‘Seems I used up all my chances without even realising it.’ His voice was tinged with regret. ‘It’s not her fault,’ he continued, and Madeleine could sense the false brightness in his voice. ‘I wasn’t a good husband. I worked too much. I never made time for her. I’ve spent my life building up the business, determined that...determined my life would be different now, and I didn’t want to take the time out of the office to make sure that that was the most important thing to her too. I guess, in the end, I chose the business over her, and it nearly cost me everything.’
Madeleine looked at him for a moment and got the impression that he was expecting her censure. Well, he might be opening up about his guilty feelings, but he could keep on looking. She wasn’t here to judge him.
‘Marriage is complicated. I’m sure you tried your best.’
‘That’s the thing, though. I didn’t. I knew I wasn’t, and Caro knew it too. We were even able to cite it in the papers as unreasonable behaviour.’
She gave him a grim smile. ‘You worked hard for that business. Your hard work changed your life. That’s got to be a pretty difficult habit to break. But look at you now. Devoted dad. Here with me, not in the office, because you’re determined to find the right person to take care of your kids. Looks like you’ve got your priorities right at the moment.’
‘That’s different,’ he said, frowning, as if he was determined not to accept her assessment of the situation. ‘They’re my kids; it’s not a choice, it’s just what I have to do.’
‘Plenty of people wouldn’t do what you’re doing. I’m not commenting on you and Caro. It’s not my place, and no one can understand what a marriage is really like just from looking in from the outside. I’m not going to go along with your pity party. You’re a good dad, a good person, Finn.’
He grimaced, but let the matter drop.
* * *
‘Are we going to eat before these kids wake up?’ he asked, breathing out a sigh of relief at the change of subject. He had never meant to get so heavy with Madeleine. And he never talked about what had happened with Caro. But after what had happened last night, after he had seen Madeleine so vulnerable, after she had shared a little of her past with him, it seemed wrong to hold out on her. Sharing a bit of his life made them equals again.
But it made them something more too—confidantes? Intimates? Whatever it was, she wasn’t just his friend’s sister any more. They were something to one another now, something that existed outside of their relationships with Jake.
He dug into the picnic bag and brought out cheeses and ham, salad and bread. There was a flask of coffee in there, and a bottle of Sicilian lemonade.
Madeleine swung her legs around, sitting cross-legged with the sun behind her, her hair highlighted by its rays and her skin glowing from the warmth of the day.
‘So, how is the nanny hunt going?’ she asked.
He narrowed his eyes, stopped short by her question. Was she trying to find a way out of their arrangement? Admittedly, it had already got more personal than he had planned, but she had only been there a day. And this mutual attraction that they had both acknowledged and then pledged to determinedly ignore had complicated matters beyond recognition. But that didn’t mean that he wanted her to leave. She was staying with him because she had nowhere else to go. He had promised that he would look out for her, and he hated the thought that she might be making plans to leave because of everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours.
‘I’ve been speaking with the agency,’ he said, wishing he could smooth the crease he could feel in his forehead, but not quite managing to get his muscles to co-operate. ‘They’re going to send some people over this week for interviews. It would be great if you could sit in, actually, if you don’t mind?’
The crease in her brow at this request reflected his own, and he wished that he could see inside her head and work out what was going on in there. Last night had brought them closer, there was no denying that. But there was also absolutely no denying that she still had some very substantial protective barriers in place. She might have shown him more of herself than she had planned to last night, but she was making up for it now with reinforced defences.
‘I... I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t know anything about being a nanny. I don’t even know much about you or the kids.’
‘I trust you. I trust your judgement. It would just be nice to have someone to talk it over with. If you don’t mind.’
It was the sort of subject that he should talk over with his wife, except she had left him and the country as soon as she could be rid of him. Even the lure of their two children hadn’t been enough to stop her wanting to get away from him. What he’d told Madeleine had been true. He hadn’t tried hard enough to save his marriage. He had never
put Caro first. He had been a spectacularly bad husband, and he couldn’t blame Caro for wanting to put the whole catastrophe behind her.
But even he couldn’t have imagined how devastating losing her would prove to be. For the first time ever he had thought that he had a stable home. For seven years they had lived in their beautiful house with their perfect life and full fridge and plans for the future. And then, all of a sudden, it was pulled from under him.
He’d lost it all: Caro, his home. Very nearly his business, if he’d not been able to secure the funding that they’d needed for the new premises in time.
Now he had the kids to focus on, he could tell himself that he didn’t even miss her. And he didn’t. Sure, sometimes he missed having another adult to speak to at the end of the day—he loved sharing the kids’ firsts and milestones with her over video calls—but he didn’t really miss her. And when their marriage was falling apart, all he could think about was how he was going to ensure that the financial consequences didn’t reduce him to the poverty he had spent his life running from. What did that say about him—that he was more concerned about his bank balance than about trying to save his relationship?
It only went to show how much he’d let her down. It had been a long time since he’d been in love with Caro.
They’d married young, when his business had first started to boom and he’d realised he didn’t have the skills or the experience or the connections to navigate the world he was suddenly living in. Caro had all that—had grown up in that world. She’d shared it with him, and he had honestly loved her, at the start. But as the years had gone on, and he had found himself further and further out of his depth, he had to work harder and harder. Spend more and more hours at the office. And what he’d had with Caro had...died. Because he had neglected it. And she had tired of the world of CEOs and easy money that she had grown up in and decided she wanted to do something more...worthy.
He looked over to where Madeleine was helping herself to the picnic and was hit with that stab of attraction that had been present since the moment that he had opened the door to her the day before.
Reunited by the Tycoon's Twins Page 7
