by Lucy King
And suddenly Jack couldn’t take it any more. He was too tired from a lack of sleep, too weak from a lack of food, and too battered by, well, everything. The effort of denying how he felt about Stella was impossible to maintain now, and as he walked over to his desk and sank into his chair, something inside him suddenly crumbled.
God, he missed her, he thought, burying his head in his hands as his defences shattered and it all came tumbling out. He missed her smile, her laugh, her conversation. And he missed how he felt with her, as if somehow, for the first time in four long, lonely years, everything was going to be all right. Stella had aroused so many things in him – desire, frustration, the need to protect to name but a few – but all he could think now was that the last week they’d spent together he’d been happy, truly happy. He’d had a glimpse of what his future could be, and like an idiot he’d thrown it away.
Why the hell had he done that? Had he been so traumatised by the evening’s events that he’d temporarily lost his mind? Had he been so terrified of what caring about Stella might mean he’d overreacted? It did seem that way.
But what were the chances of tragedy striking twice anyway? he wondered now. He probably had a program somewhere that could calculate the odds. There were risks to any relationship, but there were also rewards, and the rewards of having Stella in his life would surely be more than worth it because he was pretty certain he was falling in love with her.
As the truth of it hit him, Jack sat up, his entire body suddenly coming to life and buzzing with an energy that had been missing recently. So that was what this had all been about. He knew he’d cared about her, and he’d suspected it had been more but out of fear he hadn’t allowed himself to think about how much more. It was so much more, though.
God, he’d been a fool, he thought, his pulse racing. He’d been given a chance of happiness with an incredible woman who was strong and brave and really, way out of his league, and out of some insane misplaced fear that was based on pure assumption he’d blown it.
He shoved his hands through his hair and then leapt to his feet. Was there any chance he could get her back? Would she even want to come back? There was only one way to find out and whatever the answer he had to know.
Jack grabbed his coat and phone and scooped up his wallet and keys. Striding out of his office, his heart pounding, he paused only to instruct his assistant, “Cancel whatever can be cancelled; reschedule the rest. I’m going out and I may be some time.”
Chapter Twelve
“And that’s it,” said Stella to her friends, shifting on the stone wall upon which she was sitting cross-legged. “The whole sorry story. Again. For what, the third time now? I apologise about that. The problem is, I really thought I’d be fine. I mean, I’m a pretty strong person, right? I’ve got over stuff before. I thought by now it would at least hurt a little bit less. But I’m not fine. I’m in bits. I keep crying and I don’t think it’s just the hormones. It’s pathetic. I realise Jack and I only spent a short time together but it was really intense and I fell in love with him and I miss him so much.”
She sniffed and blew her nose. “I can’t stop thinking about him and I can’t even try and forget him because of the lemon. And he’s just not interested any more. I don’t understand it. One minute he was trying to get me into bed and the next he was basically throwing me out. His replies to my texts are so brief they’re barely there, and do you know the worst of it? I could have practically written the script. I’ve fallen for someone who hasn’t fallen for me only this time it hurts so damn much it makes all those other times look like, I don’t know, childhood crushes or something.
“Why did I ever imagine things would be different with Jack? He never gave me any indication that he felt something more. That was all me and my stupid fantastical dream factory, which means my judgement is still completely rubbish because for all I know he was just trying to replace Mia and their baby with me and ours, and God I wish I could have a drink.”
She paused to hiccup and sighed long and raggedly, while absently rubbing her abdomen. “The only good thing to come of all this navel gazing is that I now realise I am enough. Maybe not for Jack or Ben/Brad or anyone else, but I’m certainly enough for the lemon. I’m going to be the best parent I possibly can be, and that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? If I cling on to that the rest will somehow fall into place, don’t you think?”
There was no response. And while that was to be expected since she was talking to the sheep it would nevertheless be nice to have some answers, thought Stella, her breath catching on a sob. She’d been here at the cottage in the Highlands for four days now and she was in just as much of a state now as she had been when she arrived.
When she’d left the hospital, left Jack, she’d had no idea how much it was going to hurt, how deeply she’d fallen. It had all been a bit of a blur. She’d been so fired up with adrenaline and fuelled by disappointment and misery she hadn’t exactly been thinking straight.
Now, though, with the adrenaline gone and reality hitting she knew, and it was agony. With nothing else to do, she’d had all the time in the world to dwell on what could have been and mope. She hadn’t even felt like painting. The canvases she’d brought with her remained untouched, the paints unopened. All she wanted to do was sketch Jack, and it was pathetic how hung up on him she was.
Pathetic too how she just didn’t seem to be able to do anything. The weather up here was far more clement in late March than it had been in January but she found it hard to drum up much enthusiasm for the heather sprouting on the hills and the greenery that was appearing. She knew she should probably go for walks and keep fit but she just didn’t have the energy.
The cottage wasn’t giving her the peace she craved this time around either, although in hindsight that wasn’t entirely surprising. Her decision to come up here had been a spur of the moment thing, and she’d totally forgotten that it might hold memories not conducive to getting over Jack. Inside, there were reminders of him everywhere, so she tried to spend as much time outside as possible, mainly talking to the sheep since they were close. Over and over again she’d spilled out her heart, as if the way to get over him might suddenly come to her if she went through it often enough, but that plan hadn’t worked out at all.
At least he didn’t know how she felt about him, she thought, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the weak spring sun in the hope it might warm her up. There was some comfort in that.
Whatever happened in the future, she’d handle it. If Jack did decide he wanted to be part of the lemon’s life she could learn to put a brave face on it, and if – or rather, when – he pitched up with someone else on his arm, she’d be civil. It might well kill her but she’d be civil. And he would meet someone, of course. It was inevitable, since he was kind and generous and gorgeous and lovely, and, oh dear, she was welling up all over again.
Would she ever stop crying? she wondered, blinking rapidly and swallowing hard. Would she ever feel normal again? Would she ever meet anyone for whom she was enough? What was wrong with her that made her so easy to reject? How was she supposed to change if she didn’t know what she ought to be changing? Why was everything so damn hard? All she wanted was someone who would love her the way she loved him. Someone who accepted her for what she was, flaws and all. Someone who –
“So this is where you’ve got to.”
*
When Stella jumped and wobbled on the wall as she sharply twisted round, Jack cursed and thought, perhaps a bit belatedly, that surprising a pregnant woman, his pregnant woman, may not have been the best way forward, but, God, it was good to see her.
The last twenty-four hours, many of which he’d spent trying to track her down, had been pretty bloody abysmal. Once he’d realised what an idiot he’d been by denying how he felt about her, all he’d wanted to do was grovel for forgiveness and then tell her everything. No messing about, no delays, just the truth. To his intense frustration and growing sense of alarm, though, she�
�d been nowhere to be found, until he’d recalled what she’d said about the cottage being a refuge and decided it was definitely worth a shot.
When he’d seen her sitting on the wall in the distance, his heart had leapt so hard he’d feared it might escape his chest. He’d crossed the field in what had to be record time, all fired up with determination and purpose, but now he’d found her, now he was here, he realised that the knot tangling his stomach wasn’t excitement. It was nerves. He was nervous as hell and scared witless because the last time he’d seen her he’d been harsh and cruel. His entire future rode on his ability to somehow undo that. God knew it wasn’t going to be easy but whatever happened he was not going to blow it.
“Jack,” said Stella coolly, the myriad emotions that had sprinted across her face when she’d clapped eyes on him now hidden behind a mask of neutrality. “This is a surprise.”
He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jeans largely to stop himself from reaching for her and just getting straight on with the kissing part of his plan, since that would likely result in a slap across the face.
“A nice one, I hope,” he said and cleared his suddenly dry throat.
“Why on earth would you hope that?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I honestly can’t think of anyone I’d rather see less.”
No. Right. Well. Obviously. He’d been brutal. And it crushed him, along with the lack of emotion in her voice and the absence of warmth in her expression, which didn’t bode well. But dammit, he had to pull it together; he really did, because he hadn’t come all this way only to fuck it up in the first five minutes. “I can imagine.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“I took a gamble.”
“I didn’t think you gambled.”
“It was very much worth the risk.”
Her brows lifted a fraction. “A long journey to make on an off-chance.”
“It was a damn sight easier than the last time I made it.” Logistically, at least. Time-wise, with the minutes dragging like hours and his patience stretching so thin it felt it could snap at any moment, it had been frustrating as hell.
“The weather’s better at this time of year.”
“Sod the weather,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Stella lifted her chin, clearly intending to make this difficult for him, which was nothing less than he deserved, and perversely he felt a stab of admiration shoot through him. She was incredible and he loved her all the more for it. “I’m all talked out,” she said archly. “My woolly friends here.”
“Helpful, were they?”
“They’re more the strong, silent types. Good listeners, though.”
“Then how about I do the talking and you do the listening?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, hopping off the wall and brushing her hands. “You made yourself perfectly clear in the hospital, Jack, and it’s fine. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. I’ve moved on, so you’ve had a wasted journey.”
She spun round and stalked off towards the gate and Jack thought, well, hell, that wasn’t happening. He wasn’t leaving until he’d cleared up the godawful mess he’d made and told her everything. Then? Who knew? He hadn’t a clue how she’d felt about him before he’d acted like an idiot and lost her, but he was not letting her walk away without her knowing how he felt about her.
“Someone once reminded me that every defendant has the right to speak,” he called after her. “Give me a chance to say what I’ve come here to say, Stella, and if you still want me to go, I’ll go.”
*
It was the hint of desperation in Jack’s voice that made Stella stop, her pathetically weak resistance finally collapsing and turning to dust. She’d thought she’d been doing rather well, creating and then maintaining a façade of indifference that she really didn’t feel, especially when it had been so damn hard not to just leap up and over the wall and throw herself at him when she’d swivelled round and actually seen him standing there all dark and serious and utterly, utterly gorgeous.
When she’d first heard his voice, she’d gone quite still and her heart had skipped a beat. She’d thought she’d been hallucinating, the emotional stress of recent events somehow conjuring him up, because after everything he’d said why on earth would he be here?
But then her body had responded the way it always did to his presence, the heat and longing surging inside her, and helplessly she’d turned to face him. At the sight of him looking so tired and pale her heart ached. Her hands had instantly started itching with the need to reach out and pull him to her, to wrap him in her arms and kiss him until the shadows went away and desire filled his eyes instead.
But she’d realised she had to be so very careful. She was in love with him but he wasn’t in love with her and that imbalance made her vulnerable to the kind of hurt she didn’t know whether she’d be able to bear, so she’d crossed her arms and clamped her hands to her sides and tried to channel her inner ice queen.
However, what with the way her temperature was rocketing, her inner ice queen wasn’t up to much and, anyway, it was so heavenly to see him. She’d missed him like mad, and weak though it might make her she wanted to know why he’d come.
“OK, fine,” she said, telling herself that despite the curiosity burning her up inside it would nevertheless be wise to proceed with caution. “You’re right. You have one chance.”
In one quick smooth move Jack vaulted over the wall to her side, and before she knew it he’d lifted her up and deposited her on the top of it. “There,” he said. “Don’t move.”
Slightly reeling from the shock of being manhandled like that but unable to rustle up much of a protest, Stella concentrated on trying to remain aloof. “What do you want?”
“You, Stella,” said Jack, his gaze dark and intense. “I want you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. But first things first. I’m sorry for what I said and did in the hospital.”
“Which bit of it?”
“All of it.” He shoved his hands through his hair and scowled down at the ground. “I was cruel and thoughtless and, well, basically, a bastard. I should never have said any of it. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“So why did you?”
“Self-defence, mainly. Not that it’s any excuse.”
But it was, and despite her best intentions Stella felt her heart soften a little, even though his love for his wife probably meant that he’d never be free to love anyone else, such as her. “It must have been a difficult time for you,” she said, her throat tightening at the thought it.
Jack snapped his head up at that and his gaze collided with hers. “You knew?”
“I guessed.”
He frowned. “How?”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, I can’t begin imagine the memories…”
He stared at her as if completely and utterly baffled. “What are you talking about?” he said. “What memories?”
And now it was Stella’s turn to be baffled because as she’d said, wasn’t it obvious? “Well, of Mia, of course.”
For a moment there was silence but then a second later Jack’s brow suddenly cleared and totally unexpectedly, he grinned. Stella stared at him, pole-axed. She’d mentioned his wife and he actually grinned. What was that all about?
“No. You’ve got that completely wrong,” he said. “I was terrified, yes, but I wasn’t thinking about Mia. I was thinking only of you.”
“Me?” she echoed in surprise, something beginning to unfurl inside her, something that felt alarmingly like hope.
“Yes, you. I haven’t thought about Mia in quite a while. I told you I was conflicted, didn’t I? Well, that happened because ever since she died I’ve been riddled with grief over what happened and guilt that I wasn’t there to somehow prevent it. Since I met you, though, that’s turned to, I don’t know, I suppose a low level sort of sorrow and regret. It’ll probably never completely go away but that’s all right now.”
“So what exactly are you saying, Jack?” said Stella, watching him stride back and forth, her heart now thumping because, hang on, was she the other person?
“The minute we met you turned my life upside down. When our eyes met in that rear-view mirror just after I’d crashed the car it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I wasn’t even looking for you. I wasn’t looking for anyone. I was quite content with going through the motions and getting through the days. But you shook me up right from the very start. You made me feel alive again. That night we spent together was the first time I’d slept with anyone other than Mia and it was incredible. But the guilt. God, the guilt. And then there was no guilt, just you and me and the talking, and now I’m so in love with you I can hardly think straight. I love you and I’m so sorry I hurt you and I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. Anything.”
*
Jack stopped then and looked at her, his heart hammering and his entire body bursting with emotion. Stella on the other hand was sitting there, looking rather stunned. He couldn’t really blame her. It would be nice if she said something in response though. But she didn’t. She just stared at him blankly and suddenly it occurred to him that maybe he was too late. Maybe he’d never had a chance in the first place.
Had she ever actually given any indication that she might want anything from him? His mind raced, his head pounding and his blood chilling, as he mentally went through the evidence and realised that no, she hadn’t. She was attracted to him, but that didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean she felt the same way about him as he did about her, and if she didn’t, then here he was spilling out his soul, giving her the opportunity to crucify him.
