The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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you go?”
“I thought I’d leave at noon on Friday. That way I can reach Tohunga by late afternoon.”
Soula slid her a sideways look. “Does Damon know about this?”
She shook her head. “But he’s going to be away for two weeks. I’m only going for a week—I’ll be back by the time he returns.”
Soula gave an impatient puff. “Well, what can I say? If you need to check on your business, then you must do so, my child. Now tell me about T.J.”
“T.J.?” Rebecca could feel the blood draining from her face. “What do you want to know?”
“When do you intend to tell me that he is not your son?”
“Is it so obvious?” Shaken, she stared at Damon’s mother. “How did you know?”
“Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca.” Soula shook her head sadly. “Except for the dark hair and the eyes, he is the spitting image of Fliss. The curls, the heart-shaped face, the dimples are all Fliss.”
She’d already had this discussion with Damon. It was good to have it all out in the open. She was so tired of living a lie.
“So why did you pretend yesterday that you thought he was my son? Mine and Damon’s?”
“I wanted to give that son of mine a shove in a direction he should have taken a long time ago.” Soula gave a weak but wicked smile. “That way everything works out. You keep T.J., whom you obviously adore, and T.J. gets to have the love of a mother and his blood father.”
“Wait a moment.” This was going to be hard. But she’d committed to the truth, so there was no other way. Rebecca picked her words carefully. “Soula, T.J. is not Damon’s son.”
“Of course he is. He has the Asteriades eyes.”
“No, those are Fliss’s eyes—”
“Yes, they are blue, and I grant that they are the same shape as his mother’s. But the colour is pure Asteriades. My husband had those eyes, too.”
Rebecca was shaking her head. “No, you’re wrong.” She moved closer, took Soula’s hands in hers. “Look, this is going to come as a shock, but Fliss didn’t love Damon. She loved someone else—”
“Oh, I know all that.” Soula gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
“You know?” Rebecca stared. “But how?”
“I’m a mother. I knew that Fliss didn’t love my son. But neither did he love her. Each had their own agenda for marrying—and, no, it wasn’t love. I didn’t approve. I was very disappointed with my eldest son’s choice.”
“T.J. is the son of—”
“Hush,” said Soula. “Don’t say anything that you will later regret. T.J. is Damon’s son, and when you marry that will be final.”
“No, we’re not getting married.” Rebecca shook her head at Soula’s obstinacy but couldn’t help feeling flattered that Soula wanted her in the family. “Thank you, Soula. But it won’t work.”
Soula sagged back on the sofa, her wrinkles deeper, looking every one of her years. “You know, I told that stubborn son of mine not to come back to Auckland without you. For once in his life he did what I asked. I think he was scared I was going to die. I wanted him to see you again and fall in love with you. I want grandchildren.”
So Soula had been scheming. She hadn’t been well, but she’d seen an opportunity to manipulate. A true Asteriades. The ends always justified the means. But Rebecca couldn’t stir up any anger. Instead she gave the older woman a wan smile. “You are a truly wicked woman, but I wish you hadn’t meddled.”
“I wasn’t well. I didn’t lie about that.” Soula tried to look righteous. Then she spoiled it by shooting Rebecca a guilty look. “There’s something else I shouldn’t have done, so I’m not even going to tell you about it, because it has the potential to make everything so much worse. I should’ve left everything well enough alone, never tried to get you two back together again.”
“But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you again.”
“Oh, Rebecca.” Silver tears glistened in the corners of Soula’s eyes. “You are the daughter I wish I had. So gracious, so loving.”
Rebecca’s own throat closed up. “You know, I don’t really remember my mother. But in my dreams, she’s you. But sometimes no amount of forcing will make something work if it’s not meant to be.” She bent and planted a kiss on Soula’s forehead. “Damon and I, well, there is something between us, but we’ve agreed to give each other a little time and space. I’m going to miss you while I’m in Tohunga. But I will be back and I want you to promise not to interfere again. This is something that Damon and I must sort out, not a fairy godmother’s wand.”
“I won’t meddle again. I promise. But that stubborn son of mine is headstrong. An idiot. And sometimes he needs a good old-fashioned kick up the pants.”
Despite her misery, Rebecca couldn’t help herself. She laughed.
It was Friday evening in Los Angeles—Saturday in Auckland. Instead of planning the coming week, as was his norm, Damon stood on the balcony of a hotel suite overlooking Santa Monica Bay, ten minutes away from the flurry of LAX. The continuous drone of planes over the Pacific held Damon transfixed. T.J. would’ve loved it. He stared west over the endless Pacific. Beyond Hawaii to the south lay New Zealand…and Rebecca.
What were Rebecca and T.J. doing? He couldn’t stop thinking about Rebecca. The shock and fear that had flashed in her eyes when he’d said goodbye bothered him. She’d thought that he was leaving, telling her it was over. Was that what she expected? Did she think he’d make love to her like there was no tomorrow, then walk away at the first opportunity?
Perhaps she did.
When had he ever given her reason to think differently? She’d probably read his request for time as the precursor to his leaving. What had he ever done to deserve her trust?
The pain that had been kindling ignited into a burst of anguish. Four years ago he’d made a massive mistake. He’d picked the bride his brain told him he wanted. In his arrogance, he’d refused to see what Rebecca was. Even his mother had known.
He’d compounded his error in judgment by letting Rebecca slip through his fingers. Not because she was unsuitable, outrageous, manipulative. Despite all the things he’d told himself, he’d still wanted her, burned for her. And he’d driven her away with cold glares and cruel barbs.
Because of fear.
She terrified him. He shifted, uncomfortable with what he was forcing himself to admit.
He feared losing control of his inner self, of putting his heart and soul into the hands of a woman he couldn’t bring himself to trust.
So he had run and married Rebecca’s best friend to give his mother the grandchildren she craved. He married the wrong woman, for all the wrong reasons. And Fliss had married him for the wrong reasons, too. Both of them had done Rebecca a terrible injustice.
At Fliss’s funeral he’d stared across the grave at Rebecca, humiliation scorching him. Yet despite the consuming fury there’d been a kind of relief.
His marriage had been wrong.
Fliss’s death had freed him.
But it had been too soon for him to admit the enormity of his mistake—not that his arrogance would’ve let him. He’d allowed his mother to convince him to let Rebecca go, without taking revenge. Because deep down he’d known. He was the one who had screwed up.
Not Rebecca.
And he’d needed to come to terms with that.
Now he had. It had taken him all week to realise how brave