by Lucy King
Celia stared at her. ‘What?’
‘Mine’s a study in how not to have a relationship,’ she said, the happy buzz now a dim and distant memory as the desolation and loneliness she’d been feeling recently welled up inside her.
‘Oh? How come?’
Lily swallowed. ‘First time round we screwed it up so badly I shut myself off and Kit had a one-night stand.’
In the ensuing silence Celia stared at her. ‘Jeez.’
‘I know,’ said Zoe. ‘Bad, huh?’
Celia frowned. ‘But now you’re back together.’
Lily nodded and sighed. ‘Yes. And making a complete and utter hash of it.’
Zoe gasped. Celia simply shook her head in amazement. ‘I’m not surprised, because, really, how could you ever trust him after something like that?’
And just like that Lily froze as the truth of it struck her. Celia had hit the nail on the head. She didn’t trust him. At all. ‘I can’t,’ she breathed and, as the knowledge sank in, felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her because suddenly all the confusion and questions she’d been tormenting herself with recently made sense. Absolute and devastating sense.
‘What?’ said Zoe, looking at her worryingly.
‘I don’t trust him,’ she said, faintly reeling. ‘I don’t think I have for months.’
‘Oops,’ muttered Celia. ‘I really shouldn’t have asked.’
For a split second Lily was tempted to agree with her because part of her would rather have remained in the dark.
Now she knew, though, she had no choice but to admit what she’d probably known every time she’d had to stop herself reaching for his phone or laptop. Every time he’d gone out or away and the niggle of doubt over what he was really doing and who he was really with had returned. Every time she’d secretly wondered whether he was telling her the truth.
Everything that logic would have told her had she not been so deeply in denial.
She didn’t trust him.
Her mind spun with the thought of it, the thought of what it meant, which was now blindingly, agonisingly clear. There was only one way for their relationship to go, she realised as her heart wrenched, because she might love him with everything she was and everything she had, but that didn’t mean anything without trust.
She had to talk to him. Had to explain. Even if it meant the end. She owed him the truth, however heartbreaking it was going to be, and she owed it to him now.
‘Zoe, Celia, I’m sorry,’ she said, now feeling as sober as if she’d been drinking nothing but water all night as she got shakily to her feet, her eyes stinging and her throat tight, ‘but I’ve got to go.’
*
Kit was sitting in the dark in the garden with a half-empty bottle of whisky and a glass when he heard the front door slam.
When Lily had gone out he’d initially been in what was now his study, kidding himself that he was working, much as he’d done every day lately.
But that was a joke, wasn’t it, because how could he concentrate on work when his life with Lily was slowly disintegrating? How could he think about anything other than the fact that it was happening again? That Lily was slipping away from him like water through fingers and, once again, he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
He could feel that he was losing her and it scared him witless. Made him ache and filled his heart with pain.
Because he’d tried. So hard. Alone in his room that night in Rome he’d figured out his priorities and had basically changed his entire life for her. He’d decided to put her first, work second and to set about winning her back.
So with the focus and dedication that had built him a successful hotel business in five short years he’d wined and dined her. Reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with and shown her the better man he’d become. He’d shared with her every detail of what he was doing and who he was with when he wasn’t with her. He’d stripped his soul bare for her, told her things he’d never told anyone and trusted her with everything he was.
But it wasn’t enough.
Time and time again he’d asked Lily what was wrong, and time and time again she’d looked at him, said she didn’t know. He didn’t think she was lying. She seemed so genuinely tormented by the question every time he asked that he got the impression that she was as much at a loss to understand what was happening as he was. And, unlike the night they’d argued about Paula, pushing her for an answer wasn’t going to work.
He didn’t know what would work. All he knew was that she wasn’t happy and it was just about killing him.
But what had gone wrong? he wondered, frowning out into the quiet still of the night as for about the billionth time he tried to work it out. He’d thought they’d reached a deeper level of understanding. That this time their relationship was on firmer emotional ground, but maybe he was wrong because over the weeks she’d become increasingly subdued. More watchful and wary somehow. She’d withdrawn into herself, just as she’d done before.
Maybe he’d pushed her too hard, he thought. Maybe moving in together so soon had been a mistake. Maybe she hadn’t changed in the way he’d thought—hoped—she had.
Maybe they simply weren’t meant to be together.
At the thought of that Kit felt his stomach turn inside out and something deep inside him begin to ache. And then he set his jaw and pulled himself together. No. That was rubbish. They were meant to be together. All he had to do was think of a way to fix this because what they were going through wasn’t insurmountable. It couldn’t be.
Behind him a light went on inside and as he heard Lily step out onto the terrace, the trace of her scent drifting towards him and every one of his senses zooming in on her, just as they always did, his heart began to thud with renewed resolve because the solution would come to him. Eventually. It had to.
‘What are you doing out here?’ she said softly.
‘Thinking.’
‘About what?’
How he could make things between them right. ‘Nothing much.’
She moved round into his line of sight and his heart lurched crazily the way it did every time he saw her.
But tonight something was different. It wasn’t the lack of a smile on her lovely face or the absence of the sparkle in her beautiful eyes because he’d got used to both. It was something about the way she held herself, something in the deadness of her expression, something that made him go icy-cold.
As a ribbon of apprehension and dread wound itself round his insides he felt something inside him wither and all he could think was that somehow it was too late. Somehow they’d got to a point where things couldn’t be fixed and he hadn’t noticed soon enough.
‘You’re back early,’ he said, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat.
‘Yes.’
‘Not much fun?’
‘Not a lot.’
She sat down next to him, turned to face him, and Kit wished he could turn back time and not be here when she got back because he didn’t want this now. He didn’t want this at all. Yet on some dim and distant level he knew it had been a long time coming. Knew it was inevitable. Wished he’d had time to prepare his arguments, wished he had arguments to prepare.
‘Want a drink?’ he said.
‘No, thanks.’
‘Mind if I have one?’
‘Go ahead.’
He poured himself another glass of whisky and noticed his hand was shaking. ‘You’re going to say we need to talk, aren’t you?’
A flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes and then she nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Because this isn’t working, is it?’ he said, the struggle he was having keeping a grip on his emotions making his voice hoarse.
‘No.’
‘Want to tell me why?’
Her eyes filled with tears and her chin trembled and it was all he could do not to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right because he didn’t think it was. ‘I can’t bear to.’
‘Tell me, Lily. I won’t break.’ Although the possibility was there.
‘But I might.’
‘Come on,’ he said, trying to give her a smile but failing. ‘Be brave.’
She nodded and blinked, but it didn’t get rid of the shimmer of tears and it didn’t stop the tremble of her chin. ‘I thought I could do this,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘But I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because there’s this thing.’ She rubbed her chest and frowned as if she didn’t totally get it. ‘It’s so tiny. But it’s there. And I just can’t seem to get rid of it. That night you went away the first time, after we had that argument about Paula, I couldn’t get hold of you and I couldn’t help wondering what you were doing and who you were with.’
‘I told you what I was doing and who I was with.’
‘I know. And I believed you. I still do. But I think it started something and it won’t go back.’
‘What is it?’
‘A lack of trust.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘Can I?’
‘Of course you can.’
‘But how do I know that? Tell me, because I desperately want to.’
She looked at him despairingly, as if it was something she’d asked herself a dozen times over, and what could he say? Because she could? What kind of an answer was that? Apart from the only one he had. He’d never do anything to betray her trust, but how could he expect her to believe him when he’d already broken it once?
‘Because I love you.’
She put a hand on his cheek and he could feel his skin burning beneath her touch. ‘And I love you. More than I ever did before. At the risk of sounding soppy you are my sun and stars. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted. The only man I’ve ever loved and probably ever will love. The thought of never kissing you again, never holding you again or never speaking to you again makes me feel physically sick. I have this pain deep inside me, like a hand’s reaching right inside and twisting everything inside me into knots.’
‘Then don’t think about it.’
‘I have to.’
‘Why?’
‘Because without trust loving you isn’t enough.’ She shook her head and pulled her hand away and the loss of her warmth felt like an icicle through his heart. ‘It’s not going to work, Kit. It’s just not going to work.’
At the sad finality in her voice panic welled up inside him. ‘What can I do, Lily? Tell me. Whatever it is I’ll do it.’
‘There’s nothing either of us can do.’
‘There must be.’
‘There isn’t.’
And it was all his fault, he knew. He’d done this to them the minute he’d destroyed her ability to trust him by cheating on her and Kit felt the knowledge hit him as if someone had thumped him in the solar plexus. He didn’t deserve her love. He didn’t deserve her trust. He wasn’t worthy of her. And he had to let her go. ‘Lily…’
‘I know. I’m sorry,’ she whispered, the tears now flowing down her cheeks as she leaned forwards and gently kissed him. ‘So sorry.’
He kissed her back, knowing that it was a kiss goodbye, and it just about broke him apart. ‘So am I, my darling,’ he said. ‘So am I.’
FOURTEEN
On a professional level the last fortnight had been great for Kit. Plans for the new hotel in Rome were coming along apace and business was booming. To his delight—and no small amount of relief—Paula Burrows had been headhunted by another PR firm and just yesterday he’d heard that one of his hotels was up for an award.
On a personal level, however, the last couple of weeks had been diabolical. However busy he kept himself, however hard he worked, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lily. He couldn’t stop wondering how she was and what she was doing, and he’d been going mad wondering if there was anything during their relationship that he could have done differently.
He couldn’t seem to get rid of the dull ache that lived deep inside him, the pain that filled every cell of his body or the sorrow and regret that washed over him practically every other minute.
The need to find out how she was drummed through him constantly and the temptation to call her had been so hard to resist that he’d had to delete her details from his phone.
If only it had been as easy to delete her from his memory. But that was nigh on impossible because she was in there all the time. Teasing him. Tormenting him. Driving him pretty much insane.
And making him do all kinds of things he’d really rather not do. Such as getting up in the early hours and searching the web for news, photos or anything really that might give him a hit of her. Such as composing emails he’d never ever send. Such as on one particularly bad night driving round to her house, parking up outside and waiting for the merest glimpse of her.
It had to stop, thought Kit, rubbing his hand along his stubbly jaw and then across the back of his neck as he sat in his kitchen and brooded. It really did. Quite apart from the fact that some of the things he’d done lately bordered on stalkerish, as painful as it was, as much as his heart was aching, Lily had made it very clear that they were over, and he knew perfectly well that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
Hadn’t he tried during the entire time they’d been together? And then the night in her garden, hadn’t he abandoned his pride? Hadn’t he begged? Hadn’t he very nearly wept, for goodness’ sake?
Well, he wouldn’t be doing any of that again, he thought with a shudder at the memory of how desperate to hold on to her he’d been and the lengths he’d gone to to achieve it. And he wouldn’t be doing any of the other things he resorted to in his wretchedness any more. He’d had enough of the heartache and he was pretty sure that his staff had had enough of his filthy mood. So there’d be no more web searching. No more seeking her out. No more thinking about her. And after this lunchtime, no more playing squash with Dan just so he could pump him for information.
He had to excise her from his memory and his heart because he didn’t deserve her and he couldn’t have her and he might as well get used to the idea.
*
Lily stood on the dais in the fitting room of the bridal shop, risked a quick glance in the mirror directly in front of her and practically recoiled in horror at her reflection.She looked absolutely hideous.
When she’d dragged herself out of bed this morning after yet another night of too many tears and too little sleep she’d slapped on some make-up and hauled a brush through her hair and thought she wasn’t doing too badly considering how wretched she felt.
But under the harsh bright fluorescent light of the fitting room she saw that she’d been deluding herself. Great grey bags sagged beneath her eyes. There were hollows beneath her cheekbones. Her hair hung limply and dully around her ears, and despite the tinted moisturiser she’d applied—very patchily it seemed—her skin was the colour of wallpaper paste.
Whichever way she looked at it, and given the many mirrors surrounding her that was a lot, she wasn’t doing the gorgeous floaty silk dress she was wearing any kind of justice.
But was it any wonder?
The last time that she and Kit had broken up everyone had said that she’d get over it. That all she needed was time. And while she’d been miserable they’d been proved right. But that strategy wasn’t working so well for her now and, as she’d feared, it didn’t look as if there was any hope that it would.
It had been a fortnight since he’d prised her off him and walked out of her garden, her house and her life, and she was no better now than she had been then. If anything she was worse because she was finding it pretty impossible to see how she was ever going to get over him.
She thought about him constantly. Dreamed about him regularly. Every morning when she woke up she remembered that they were over, and her heart shattered all over again.
Most of Kit’s stuff had been gone for days now—he’d been round when she’d been at work, packed up and dropped the key through the letter box—but eve
ry now and then she found something he’d forgotten. A random sock that had made it into her drawer. His toothbrush lying beside the basin. A copy of the Financial Times folded in the way that only he folded it. And every single time she’d come across something of his—or even something that merely reminded her of him—she crumpled into a heap on the floor in a flood of tears.
This wasn’t like the last time when every time he’d crossed her mind she’d mainly thought ‘good riddance’ and ‘what a relief’. This was hell on earth. Absolute agony. Because, as a result of all their baggage and the way they’d managed to deal with most of it, their relationship this time round had been deeper than before. Closer. And thus the break-up was all the more devastating.
Ending things might have been the only thing she could have done after discovering that she might love him to bits but she just couldn’t trust him, but that didn’t make it easier to bear. It didn’t lessen the pain and didn’t make her miss him any less.
This time she knew there’d be no third chance. No trying again. This time, this really was it.
As the reality of what she’d done slammed into her head yet again, Lily could feel the tears welling up again and she sniffed them back because she really couldn’t damage this dress. She’d never forgive herself. Neither would Zoe, who’d been sitting on the sofa while the seamstress had rotated round Lily sticking pins into the fabric. Zoe, who was also proving surprisingly unsympathetic about her sister’s miserable, agonising plight.
Now the seamstress, having finished her alterations, helped Lily out of the dress and carried it off, leaving Lily to step down off the dais and pull on her clothes aware that her sister was watching her every move.
‘What?’ she muttered, unable to bear the scrutiny a second longer as she did up her jeans and made a mental note to buy a belt.
‘When did you last eat?’
Eat? Had she had a piece of toast last night perhaps? She couldn’t remember. ‘A while ago,’ she said.
‘Fancy some lunch?’ said Zoe.
Nearly throwing up at the idea of lunch, Lily swallowed back the wave of nausea and shrugged her jacket on. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think I could stomach lunch right now.’
