And her.
The uncomfortable twisting sensation that she’d experienced when she’d finally accepted he wasn’t coming home last night reappeared.
She needed to get a grip. There were bound to be a few misunderstandings until they got to know each other better. He was a very busy man who ran his own company, so of course he was going to be working long hours and would be prone to forgetting she was at home, waiting for him.
But the dissenting voice in her head whispering that he was deliberately avoiding her wouldn’t shut up.
She felt wired and restless now as if there was something portentous in the air.
Perhaps it was the ghost of Xavier’s great-aunt who had come to check up on the state of the marriage and was most displeased with what she saw.
Not that I blame you, Aunt Faith—I’d be pretty annoyed too if I found out he was playing the system to get round my wily attempt to force him to emotionally connect with life.
By eight o’clock that evening she’d just about given up hope of him appearing for dinner again and was about to start making enough food for one when she heard the front door open, then slam closed.
Heart thumping hard, she waited with bated breath to see whether he’d come to try and find her in the kitchen.
When he appeared in the doorway he seemed almost shocked to see her, as if he’d completely forgotten he had a wife.
‘Soli, hi,’ he said, frowning at her.
Steeling herself against a wave of disquiet, she said, ‘Hi. How was your day?’
Oh, man, why did she feel so awkward talking to him? Perhaps because he was still frowning at her as if wondering what she was still doing here.
‘It was fine,’ he said distractedly, glancing around the kitchen.
‘You’re back late again.’ She forced herself to smile graciously then waited to see whether this would trigger an apology for missing the dinner she’d made him the night before.
He ran a hand over his eyes and let out a sigh. ‘Yes. It’s not an uncommon occurrence.’
‘I see.’ So she wasn’t getting an apology, then.
‘How was your day?’ he asked instead.
He still wasn’t looking at her though; instead his gaze ran over the kitchen surfaces where she’d left some of her cake-making equipment.
‘Pretty good, thanks,’ she replied, pleased that he’d at least asked about her even if he wasn’t entirely engaged in the conversation.
‘Are you planning on making stock for the café here?’ he asked abruptly, the terseness in his tone shooting a shiver of discomfort down her spine.
‘No, this is just some of my baking stuff from home. You don’t mind if I keep it in here, do you?’
He seemed to seriously consider this request for a second or two as if deciding whether he’d be prepared to share the space with her. ‘Sure. Why not?’ he said eventually.
‘Thanks,’ she said, slightly discomforted, hoping he wasn’t going to be this possessive about the rest of the house. Clearly he wasn’t used to having someone invading his territory.
Perhaps a goodwill gesture would make him more tolerant of her presence here.
‘You know, I make a mean chocolate fudge cake. It’s a particular favourite in the café. I can make one for you, if you like. It’s yummy.’
She looked at him expectantly, hoping for some spark of interest.
‘No. Thanks. I’m not a big fan of desserts.’
The pleasure she’d initially felt at the thought of spending time with him tonight was rapidly draining out of her.
‘Oh. Okay.’ She forced an undaunted smile, despite the sting of rejection she felt. ‘No problem.’ She swallowed. ‘Have you eaten supper? I can make us some chilli. I’ve got all the ingredients right here.’
‘No. Thanks,’ he said again. ‘I had a late lunch and I’ve got a few calls to make to the US so it’ll be a while before I’m done. You go ahead and eat without me.’ He gave her a curt nod, then turned to leave the room.
The last dregs of her optimism drained away, leaving her totally deflated.
His businesslike attitude towards her was seriously denting her excitement at living here with him. It was becoming starkly clear that he didn’t want to spend any time with her and that he was deadly serious about keeping their relationship emotion-free.
Turning to stare down at the chopping board and the pile of ingredients for the food she didn’t really feel like eating any more, she was just about to pick up the knife to start chopping enough onions for one portion, determined not to let him totally disturb her equilibrium, when she realised he was still in the room.
When she turned to look at him she saw he was leaning against the doorjamb, watching her with a thoughtful expression on his face.
‘I’m sorry I forgot about our “getting to know each other” dinner last night,’ he said when he noticed her questioning eyebrow.
He didn’t exactly sound sorry though. In fact, from the tone of his voice she got the impression he was actually quite irritated about having to explain himself.
‘There’s a good chance I won’t be around at regular times in the evenings so don’t worry about making food for me. I’ll eat when I get in,’ he went on when she didn’t react right away.
So she was going to be eating on her own every evening? How horrible. She hated the thought of sitting in this huge empty house all on her own night after night, not having anyone to talk to. She was so used to being around people all day in the café and then chatting to her mum and sister over their family meals it made her spirits sink to think she’d miss out on all that life while she was here.
For a whole year.
Her stomach knotted at the thought of it.
‘You know, this house is such a big, lonely place for one person. Perhaps your great-aunt wanted you to get married and raise a family here so you’re not on your own all the time,’ she muttered, unable to keep her agitated thoughts to herself any longer.
She saw his shoulders stiffen and the air felt suddenly leaden with tension.
‘Yes, well, she’ll have to be for ever disappointed in me for not having children, I’m afraid,’ he said tersely.
‘You don’t want kids?’ She was surprised to hear that.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’re an inconvenience. They mess up your life.’
The bluntness of his tone bothered her.
‘You really believe that?’
‘Yes.’
But she could have sworn she saw a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Just for a second.
‘That’s sad.’
‘Sad? Why?’ He was scowling at her now as if she was talking utter nonsense.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I can imagine you being a great dad.’
He looked at her steadily for a couple more beats and she got the feeling he was trying to decide how to handle this without it turning into a big deal.
‘Well, thanks. But I don’t think I’m the sort of person who could give a kid the kind of love they need.’
‘Because your parents didn’t give it to you?’ she blurted without thinking, her frustration at his aloofness getting the better of her.
Anger flashed across his face, but he covered it quickly. ‘I’d rather not talk about my parents.’
‘Okay. Sorry.’ But she didn’t feel sorry, she felt annoyed with him for being so obstructive. Was he going to treat her like this for the entire year? Perhaps he’d hoped she’d squirrel away in her downstairs bedroom like an animal in a cage, never asking any awkward questions or getting in his way and only showing herself when he summoned her.
He must have seen the irritation on her face because he blinked in surprise. ‘Anyway, I have a lot to do this evening,’ he said, to her mounting ire. ‘I�
��ll leave you to it.’
Before she could utter another word, he strode out of the room, leaving her alone.
Again.
CHAPTER SIX
Articulate—use words cleverly to figure out what your partner is trying to tell you.
THE NEXT FEW days followed a similar pattern, with Soli barely catching Xavier for two minutes over his morning coffee before he left for work and then him coming home at random times in the evening, regularly texting her to let her know he wouldn’t be back in time for supper and to eat without him.
As her anxiety grew about how they would fare at the impending party, her concentration levels waned, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the marketing she had planned for the café.
So when Friday night came around she crossed her fingers that Xavier would be back at a reasonable hour and finally willing to give her a bit of his precious time so she could finally put her mind at rest.
But when he walked in after nine o’clock he only poked his head into the sitting room, where she’d been trying to distract herself by half watching TV and half checking social media, and said a curt ‘hello’ before excusing himself to go up to his office.
Having sat on her own, fretting, as she drained a large glass of wine, Soli suddenly found she’d had enough of being ignored.
Springing up off the sofa, she ran into the hallway, where Xavier was already mounting the stairs, his long legs making short work of the winding staircase.
‘Xavier!’ she shouted, determined to get his attention before he disappeared on her again.
He stopped climbing and turned to look back down on her with a frown of surprise.
‘Look,’ she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation, ‘I appreciate you’re busy, but how am I supposed to convincingly pretend I’m your wife—someone that loves you and knows you intimately—if you won’t even talk to me?’ She held up both hands, palms forward. ‘Can you please just give me half an hour of your time? Is that really too much to ask?’
He was looking at her now as if completely stunned by her outburst.
‘I’m sorry to snap,’ she said quickly, worried that she’d gone too far in her agitation, ‘but I’ve reached my limit of pretending not to mind you treating me like a piece of furniture.’ She tried to smile but her mouth refused to play ball. Instead, to her horror, her muscles began to tug downwards at each side and her throat constricted painfully as she fought back tears.
But she wasn’t going to cry. No way. She was going to be an adult about this.
‘If you really want us to appear like a proper couple you’re going to have to let me in a bit,’ she pointed out in a measured tone.
A muscle in his jaw flickered, but after a few seconds of seeming to seriously contemplate what she was saying he gave her a curt nod of agreement.
‘Okay, then. And how do you propose I do that?’
She moved to the bottom of the stairs and leant on the newel post, looking up at him, a mixture of excitement and relief surging through her. ‘There’s this game I’ve played at a party which helps you get to know the other guests better. First of all you have to look into each other’s eyes for three minutes—to begin to feel more comfortable with that person in a physical sense.’ She paused, gauging his reaction.
‘Go on,’ was all he said, walking down one step towards her.
‘Then we ask each other a set of questions which are meant to give us some insight into each other’s lives—how we see the world, what makes us feel good and bad. Personal self-disclosure, I think it’s called.’
‘Right.’ He seemed less certain about this, but he hadn’t said no, so she decided to forge on.
‘The shared vulnerability is supposed to make us feel closer and help us trust each other more. I appreciate this is a bit of an ask at this early stage, but I think it’ll be a great way to get comfortable with each other pretty quickly, especially since we don’t have a lot of time to do that, what with you being so busy at work.’
She tried to keep her scepticism out of her voice about how busy she thought he really was, as opposed to how he’d probably been using it as an excuse to avoid her, but from the twitch in his eyebrow she could tell she’d failed.
‘Okay, Soli, fine.’ He rubbed his hand over his jaw. ‘I guess we should do this now since Hugo and Veronica’s party is tomorrow.’ He walked down the rest of the stairs to where she stood. ‘Where do you want to do it?’
‘The sitting room would be good. Somewhere we can sit comfortably.’
‘Okay. Lead the way,’ he said.
She ignored the weariness in his voice, determined not to give him an excuse not to go through with this. Hopefully once they started communicating properly he’d start to relax around her.
In the sitting room she chose the three-seater sofa and sat down on it, patting the cushion next to her to encourage him to sit close by.
He followed her suggestion and turned to face her, laying his arm along the top of the sofa and looking anything but excited about the prospect of doing this.
‘Okay, I’m going to set the timer going, then we have to sit looking at each other’s faces, particularly the eyes, until the beeper goes.’ She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the wave of heat rising up her neck at the thought of actually doing this now with Xavier.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked him.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ he drawled.
‘Okay, then, I’m starting the timer—now,’ she said, tapping on the screen of her phone.
Turning to face him and settling her body into a comfortable position, she fought back a ridiculous urge to giggle, knowing it would spoil the exercise before they’d even started, and took a breath, locking her eyes with his.
He nodded as if resigned to letting this happen and looked back at her with that shrewd, intelligent gaze of his.
Soli swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of every breath she took, every facial muscle she moved. It was intensely intimate, having him looking at her so thoroughly without a break, but she was determined not to look away.
All the hairs on her body stood up and a hot tingle rushed over her skin as the seconds ticked by slowly, but she still didn’t look away.
He really was an immensely attractive man, she mused as she gazed at his olive skin with its five o’clock shadow and his long, dark lashes that almost brushed his cheeks every time he blinked.
She became aware of some strange feeling building inside her, something that made her pulse jump in her throat, but before she had a chance to figure out exactly what it meant the timer went off, making them both jump.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d set the volume that high,’ she said, flustered and grabbing for the phone with fumbling fingers. Finally managing to turn it off, she turned back to him and shot him an apologetic grin.
‘Well, that was fun,’ she joked.
His mouth actually twitched up at the corner at that, which she considered a personal victory. Of sorts.
‘At least we’ll be able to describe each other’s faces to an outsider in detail now too,’ she said, acutely aware of a tell-tale wobble in her voice. ‘You know, I hadn’t realised your eyes had yellow flecks in them; I thought it was just a lighter shade of green. Oh, and how did you get the small scar by your lip? It’s so tiny I hadn’t noticed it till now.’
‘I fell off my bike here in the garden when I was eight,’ he said, lifting his hand to touch the scar she’d mentioned, almost absently. ‘Aunt Faith bought it for my birthday and the front brakes were really fierce. I went right over the handlebars.’
‘Ouch!’ she said, with a grin.
‘Precisely,’ he agreed, his mouth twitching upwards again.
Yes, progress! It seemed the forced intimacy had opened something up a crack between them. She just needed to press her advantage now and get h
im talking to her some more.
‘Okay, then, now we’ve done that let’s move on to the questions. I’ll ask you some first, okay?’
He began to frown, but seemed to change his mind. ‘Sure. Fire away.’ Shuffling back against the sofa cushions, he crossed his arms in front of him and gave her his full attention.
Soli felt herself flush again under his gaze, but tried not to let it distract her.
‘What would be a perfect day for you?’ she asked as a starter question.
‘Hmm.’ He rubbed his hand over his jaw again, but in a thoughtful manner this time.
‘Well, I rarely get the chance for a lie-in, so I’d have one of those.’
Soli tried hard not to picture him lying naked and rumpled in bed. And failed.
‘Then I’d have a long, lazy breakfast and perhaps a walk across the heath. Maybe have a swim in the lake and a picnic lunch.’
From the faraway look in his eyes now, she got the impression he was actually enjoying thinking this up. The thought of it warmed her.
‘In the afternoon I’d go and play tennis then head out for a slap-up meal in town.’
‘Wow, that all sounds great,’ she said with a grin. ‘And when was the last time you spent a day doing things like that?’
This seemed to stump him. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had a day like that. I’ve always been too busy with work or had other social engagements.’
‘Oh. What a shame.’
‘Yes, I guess it is,’ he said, shrugging his shoulder.
There was a small pause where neither of them said anything.
‘When was the last time you sang in front of someone?’ Soli asked, to fill the silence.
‘Never,’ he said with a shake of his head.
‘Really? Never?’
‘I’m not really into performing,’ he said with finality to his tone.
‘Oh. Okay, then,’ she said, recognising his need to move on.
A Contract, a Wedding, a Wife? Page 7
