Only the skills he’d learned in the boardroom enabled him to keep a neutral expression. “That was before we went to the island.”
“I know that.”
A small flicker of doubt crossed his face. “So why come then?”
Addie sipped her tea. “Why do you think?”
“I have no idea, Ava.”
She paled visibly.
“Adeline,” he corrected swiftly, mentally kicking himself. “I have no idea.”
“It was a week with you.” The words were whispered so quietly that he barely caught them. “And I would have done anything for that.”
Guy’s heart was twisting in his chest, ripping at his insides. “Why?”
“Because I loved you, and I thought you would remember that you loved me, too,” she said simply. “None of which is relevant anymore.” She straightened, and her face was wiped of emotion. “I’d like you to go now.”
He stared at her, the world spinning way too fast. “No.”
“What about nail polish?” Sylvie appeared at the door now, holding a bag of cosmetics.
Addie pulled herself together, flashing her mother an encouraging smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “They’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? I think the letter said something about it…”
“No, mum. Nail polish is fine,” Addie promised her mother with a small nod. “No phones. No alcohol. No scissors.”
“I thought…”
“It’s fine,” Addie’s voice was terse. She softened it with a smile. “I’ll come help you in a minute, okay? Guy’s just about to leave.”
“Oh, very good, dear. Nice to meet you.” Sylvie said as she disappeared from the room.
“Where is your mother going?” He pushed, moving closer.
Adeline drained her tea and then placed the cup in the sink. She stared at the garden once more, a complex knot of emotions chasing themselves over her face.
“She’s going to a rehab facility,” she said after a heavy pause.
“Rehab?” Surprise burst inside him. “She’s an alcoholic?”
“No.” Her eyes were heavy with feelings. She looked up at him, and then looked through him. “Please leave.”
“I want to know,” he said, lifting his hands to his forearms. “I want … to help.”
The sob that bubbled out of her cut through him like a shard of glass. “It’s too late to help.”
“I don’t believe that,” he shook his head, speaking gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Addie’s voice quivered with her sadness. “Guy, there’s no need. I’ve fixed this. I’ve worked it out.”
“By selling your house?” He demanded, his tone soft even when there was urgency in his words. “Why? Why did you need the money?” His mind moved over the information he had, and found there wasn’t enough to connect the dots. Unless the rehab facility was incredibly expensive? “Is it the cost of the programme she’s going into? Is that why you needed the money?” He hoped she would say no. He wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt of that revelation. To know that was why she’d come to him and he’d used her desperation to manouever her into his bed.
“Not really.” She swallowed, and then sighed, as if mentally accepting that the only way to get rid of Guy was to be honest. “Mum has a gambling problem.” She kept her eyes lowered. “It started after they died.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped at it, a small groan of impatience. “Just a flutter, at first, but before long, it was high-stakes. The house, which my parents had owned outright, had to be mortgaged.” She pulled away from him, and continued speaking in an almost robotic voice, as if forcibly keeping her emotions at bay.
“I didn’t know.” She lifted her shoulders. “I mean, all through high school, I didn’t know. I only found out a week before I was meant to go to Bristol, to study.”
He nodded. So that part had been true, about her winning a scholarship to study drama.
“It would have been my first time living away from home,” she said softly. “I wanted to apply for a small credit card, just for emergencies.”
“Of course,” he murmured, not willing to risk saying anything else in case it stalled her.
“My application was rejected because of my poor credit history.”
“What?” He stared at her in confusion.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Addie was instantly defensive. “She has a problem. An addiction. It’s a real thing. It’s not a choice, it’s a disease.” Her glare was a warning not to be critical of the mother she clearly adored.
“She borrowed in your name?” He clarified, needing to understand exactly what he was dealing with.
“As soon as I turned eighteen, she took out a line of credit. She maxed it within a week,” Addie winced.
“Hell.” Guy hadn’t, in a million years, thought any of this to be the case. But how could he have? He hadn’t thought beyond his own prejudices and resentments; he hadn’t given her even the smallest chance to explain.
“It’s why I worked nights. I needed to be here to keep an eye on her during the day. But then, she stopped sleeping altogether, downloaded gambling apps on her phone. When I took that away she bought a new one. I’ve never seen someone run up such huge debts so quickly.” Addie’s words were measured, but Guy knew the emotions that were behind them. He felt her grief. “My credit card is at its limit. I literally use my pay cheque to pay it down each week, but I can never get ahead. I tried for so long, Guy. I tried to keep it together. For dad and for Chris.” She swept her eyes shut. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Not at the rate she runs up debt.”
“How can she keep getting in debt? Can you not limit her access to funds?”
Adeline jerked her head. “I did. Then she went and borrowed it from … well, less than savoury money lenders.” A shiver ran down her spine and an answering need to protect Adeline took hold of him. “They weren’t exactly willing to negotiate a payment plan.”
“For God’s sake, Adeline,” he stared at her for a piercing moment and then closed the distance between them. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t want to talk about the past. You didn’t want me to explain.”
The accusation was a noose, tightening around his throat. Because she was right and he could see now how completely he’d failed her. “I mean back then.” The words were graveled. “In London.”
She looked at him and then shifted her gaze over his shoulder. “Because I was ashamed. And I knew mum wouldn’t want anyone to know.” The words were simple enough but they stretched his insides painfully. The words had a heaviness to them that moved straight into Guy’s chest and hollowed it out. “And you were just so perfect … how could I tell you what a mess my life was in? How could I tell you about my mum, or any of this, knowing that you might think it was why I was with you?” A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I lied to you, but it was only because I was so scared of what the truth would do to us.” She sobbed and then shook her head, desperately trying to bring her emotions under control. “And I … I liked the way I was with you. I liked the way it felt being Ava.”
“Adeline,” he cupped her face.
She glared at him and made a throaty sound of surrender. “No!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t pretend.”
“I wanted you to have that money,” he said.
“How could I take it?” She demanded. “I’d do anything rather than have you think me capable of that.” They were quiet for a moment. “Now that you know, would you please leave me alone? I have the moving truck arriving in two hours and too much to do to walk down memory lane with you.”
“Let me help you,” he said insistently.
“I told you, I don’t want your money.” The words were flung at him with fury.
And he understood – it was too late. He couldn’t make amends so easily – a cheque wouldn’t cut it. He had to start slowly. To try anything. “I mean with the move. Let me help
you box things.”
But Addie was adamant. “No.” She shook her head. “I need you to go, Guy. Please. I can’t … Today is hard enough. I can’t deal with you as well.”
His breath was burning his lungs. “That day on the boat…”
“Don’t.” Her eyes were begging him to stop. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“I was so angry. I’ve been angry with you since London. Since that night at the restaurant.”
“I know.” She swallowed.
“But I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Her expression showed impatience. “You feel guilty.” Her shrug was small. “But you don’t need to. This is my life. I never should have asked you for help. It was never your responsibility to fix this for me.”
“It was!” He contradicted forcefully. “Everything about you became my responsibility from the moment we met. My God, Adeline, I’ve let my own stupid hang ups colour me this whole time, my whole life. Because Maria lied to me, I’ve been so sure all women are liars.”
“I did lie to you,” Adeline pointed out stiffly, moving away from him.
But he caught her wrist, and pulled her back, holding her close, so close that she could feel his warmth. “You were caught in a lie,” he corrected. “And you didn’t know how to get out of it. It’s not the same as willingly deceiving.”
She had tried to tell him that again and again. Hearing the admission on his lips, now, when it was too late, was a painful balm.
“It doesn’t matter.” She pulled her wrist free. “When we were first together, I used to think that us meeting the way we did, on the anniversary of the crash, when I was at such a low… I know it sounds foolish, but I used to think that you were a gift from heaven. That perhaps my father and brother, or some guardian angel – I don’t know – that someone had brought you into my life, knowing you were just exactly what I needed.” She made a guttural noise of rejection. “It’s stupid. So stupid.” She pulled herself back to the present, ignoring the pang in her heart. “What we were … it’s over. It’s … broken.”
His eyes swept shut. He was dropping off the edge of a cliff, in free-fall. “It can’t be.” He stared into her eyes and wrapped his hands behind her back, holding her to him. “You’re the first and only woman I’ve ever loved. And I plan on loving you for the rest of my life. So this, what we are, it can’t be broken.”
She stared up at him for a long time, consternation obvious on her features before she pushed away from him, breaking the circle of his arms. “You don’t love me.”
“I beg to differ,” he said firmly.
“You can’t love someone and hurt them like you did me. You threw me out of your life.”
His stomach clenched. He had done that. He’d unceremoniously dumped her when their week together had come to an end. The sight of her face that day, tormented and miserable, was something he would never forget. “Something I am so sorry for,” he said heavily. “Something I regret. Something I wish I could undo.” He moved closer. “But I do love you.”
Addie nodded, yet Guy could see that she was mentally pulling away. That she was pushing him from her. Sure enough, when she spoke, it was with finality.
“When I came to ask for your help, you told me that I’d killed whatever you felt for me.”
“Addie --,”
She held a hand up to stall his interruption. “And I remember thinking, at the time, what an absurd notion that was. You can’t kill love. Not our love. Not what we shared. It was too robust and strong, surely. Too special and rare.” She swallowed, her throat lined with razor blades. “But then I spent a week with you in Spain, and every single day, you did just that. You killed what I felt.” She blinked, not able to focus on his face for the tears that were clogging her eyes. “It’s done, Guy. There’s no sense rehashing any of it now.”
The last time Guy had cried he’d been eight years old and his dog had been run over before his eyes. Yet he felt an odd welling of emotion in his chest; a heaviness that wrapped around him, constricting his breathing.
“You were right the first time. You can’t kill love. Not our love.”
“For God’s sake!” She pushed at his chest, and he felt her emotions snap, like the wall of a dam breaking. “No!”
Her breath was loud and fast.
“No?” He said, lifting a hand and catching her wrist, rubbing it gently, hoping to reassure her.
“No, you don’t get to come back after this many weeks! Just because of the damned cheque! Because now you have some kind of tangible proof that I’m not after you for your money? You shouldn’t have needed proof! I loved you. I needed you.” She blinked, as if waking from a dream. “But I don’t anymore.”
“I need you,” he said softly, quietly. “I need you to watch horror movies with, to bring you peppermint tea in bed every morning for the rest of our lives, I need to run with you, to swim in pirate caves with you, to be with you, to love you, Adeline, forever.”
But he’d hurt her too badly. Adeline had locked herself away from him, and she didn’t seem to have any intention of loosening the shield she’d brought over her heart.
She pulled away from him, walking out of the kitchen, so that he had no choice but to follow. She stood at the door, at the end of the hallway, her eyes focused on the white wall straight ahead. Photo frames were propped to her left and he looked at one absent-mindedly, distracted, as he drew near to her.
It was a family photo, taken when Addie was perhaps seven or eight. Her brother looked to be a few years younger. And her parents stood, proudly, in the background, her father’s arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“The night I discovered you weren’t, in fact, Ava Peters,” he said throatily, standing in front of her, willing her eyes to meet his, “I had been about to propose.”
“What?” She blinked up at him, as though she hadn’t understood his statement. As though he’d spoken in a foreign language. “To propose to me?”
“Yes, Addie,” he laughed, though he was far from amused. “Santiago was right to wonder why we weren’t engaged. I told him the day after I met you that I wanted to marry you.” His smile was self-condemnatory.
He could see Addie rejecting the assertion. How strange that her honesty had been their battleground and now his words were being called into question.
“What is it you were so fond of saying to me?” She pretended to consider it. “Oh, yes, that’s right. It doesn’t matter! It’s all ancient history!”
“I was wrong,” he groaned. “Wrong in every single way. I was wrong not to let you explain. I was wrong not to simply help you when you came to me, seeing how terrified you were. I knew, even then, that something big had happened, and I used that to get you back into my life. Think about it, Addie. If I didn’t love you, why would I have concocted a way to spend more time with you?”
“To humiliate me,” she whispered. “To rub the fact you had moved on and I hadn’t in my face?”
“I didn’t move on,” he said.
She arched a brow, her lips curved in a sarcastic rejoinder. “You boasted about how easily you replaced me.”
“My ego lied.”
Her eyes flashed. “You expect me to believe you haven’t dated anyone since me? Slept with anyone else?”
“I swear to you, Addie. I have pined for you. I have hated you to the point of distraction, but only because I loved you so much I couldn’t believe what you’d done. What I thought you’d done,” he amended swiftly. “I was hurt, okay?” He pressed a palm to the wall beside her, bringing his body closer to hers. “I didn’t want to let you explain because I knew that I was this close to just forgetting about the past. To giving you anything you wanted. How much I love you terrified me. It still does.”
Her voice was a husk when she spoke. “I can’t do this anymore. I’d rather be alone than with someone who can hate me like you do…”
“I don’t hate you.”
She grimaced. “My heart was alre
ady broken when I met you and then I fell in love and I felt whole for the first time in a long time and you took that all away.” To emphasise her point, she dashed away her tears. “I’ve had enough pain to last a lifetime. You were my refuge from that, but you’re not now.”
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming here, for offering to help.” The words were said with an attempt at professionalism that was belied by her inability to meet his eyes. “But I returned the cheque to underscore the fact that we are over.”
“We’re not over, querida.”
Her eyes lanced him with their fury. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your dear. Your darling.”
“You are my everything,” he promised swiftly.
“And you are my agony.”
He groaned, pressing his head forward, his brow touching hers. She didn’t immediately move. He breathed her in, and he ached to kiss her, but he didn’t. “Tell me you don’t love me.”
Addie startled; he felt it.
“Tell me now that you no longer love me.”
Addie’s eyes fluttered shut. “I’m not like you,” she said defensively. “I can’t just switch my feelings on and off.”
“Nor can I, believe me,” he promised throatily.
“I’ve loved you almost a year,” she said with a shake of her head. “I hope one day I won’t, but I have no idea - I’ve never been in love before.” She cleared her throat, the hopelessness of her feelings vibrating deep in her gut. “But I know I can’t be with you.”
“Can you not be with me?” He asked gently. “Can you really live without what we are? Is that what you want?”
“Don’t.” It was a whispered plea. “Don’t make this about what I want.”
“Why not? Don’t you think it matters?”
She jerked her head upwards. “I want,” the word was angry. “To take away all the pain we’ve caused each other. I want to go back to what we were in London, where it was simple and I was so full of love that I felt like I was going to explode. But wanting something doesn’t make it so.”
“Why not?” He grabbed her arms and pulled her to him, and the look in his face was so full of warmth and strength that some of it flowed into her ice-cold body. “I love you and you love me, and I want, more than anything, everything you’ve just described. I am sorry for everything, Addie. Everything. You do not need to fear I will forget what this feels like – nor that I will ever risk hurting you again. Knowing what I have done to you, remembering the things I have said, the words I have thrown at you…” He paled before her. “I am sickened and disgusted by how I treated you. All the time I fought you, I fought what I felt, and I knew I was ruining it, but I didn’t seem able to stop. I will never forget the hurt I have seen in your eyes, and the knowledge that I was the instrument of it. I will spend my life making sure you are never hurt again. With my dying breath I will protect and honor you. With all that I am I will serve you and love you and build you up. I will believe you.”
Blackmailed by the Spaniard Page 16
