Her Marriage Secret. Darcy Maguire
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to tell him to his face how he’d broken her heart.
The wine arrived, and Meg snatched up the goblet and gulped the deep red vintage. It went down quickly, hitting her stomach with such force that Meg slapped the glass down to cover the unpleasant response. She hadn’t eaten lunch—hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, figuring her poor belly was suffering enough with stress without adding food to it.
‘That good, hey?’ Jake teased, his wide smile sending her senses into a spin.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know where to start.’ Her mind reeled with confusion. Where was the level-headed woman she knew so well? The one who’d coped despite all the obstacles, trials and tribulations sent her way? She had the perverse urge to run home to see if she’d left her lying out on the bed, where her clothes had been all afternoon, taunting her with what was coming.
‘Tell me anything, then. Tell me about your career.’
She was glad of the reprieve, though cautious at what he was up to with this show of civility. Meg rattled on for what seemed like ages, carefully choosing her words so she didn’t trip herself into revealing more than she wanted to. She told him lightly about how she’d eked out a meagre existence above a garage in Toorak, her main patron being her landlady, who’d believed so much in her designs that she’d advertised by word of mouth.
Meg didn’t want to harp on any of the details. It wouldn’t do her any good to fuel any sense of guilt Jake might have for what had happened in the past. If he knew what she’d been through, and how much she owed, she hated to think what he might do; his over-inflated sense of duty might run rampant, all over her well-ordered life. And the way his eyes never left her face while she talked, the way his hands gripped the edge of the table, suggested he wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be.
‘Your landlady sounds like Winnie.’
‘Yes,’ Meg answered.
‘You miss her?’
‘Yes.’ Her father’s aunt, Winnie, had died just after Meg had begun college. She hadn’t been like a mother to her—she’d never known a mother. But Winnie had been like a very old big sister. She’d been her friend more than anything, and not afraid to tell her anything that she’d needed to know—although sometimes Meg felt she’d given Winnie more of an education about life than her great-aunt had given her.
Mostly she remembered the fairytales Winnie had told her as a child, of the princess being saved by the handsome prince, and how she was carried off to the castle in the air. Later, when Winnie’s eyesight had started to fail her, Meg would read her stories. She was glad that she’d died peacefully in her sleep; it gave her the hope that her old friend had been dreaming of her own prince when she’d left.
It had been a shock finding her there like that. And of course Dad hadn’t been there. She’d been alone. She’d had to work out all the details herself while Dad wired her the money. He hadn’t even made it to the funeral. But he’d made it to his own, only a year later.
‘How is your mother?’ Meg asked politely. Jake’s mother, Moira, had never liked her. She’d gone out of her way to make sure Meg knew how disappointed she was at Jake’s decision to marry her. Moira had looked daggers at Meg at the wedding, had ignored her totally at the reception, and had made herself conspicuously absent when Jake and Meg moved to a home of their very own.
‘She’s fine.’
‘Any more stepfathers?’
Jake shot her a dark look. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry, that was out of line.’ Moira had gone through three husbands and several lovers. Meg was sure it was her personality that attracted them; she tended to be light and cheerful most of the time. It was the rest of the time that was the problem.
Their meal arrived and Meg tried to concentrate on the flavour of her lasagna, but its taste was lost on her. Nothing registered with her as real except Jake on the other side of the table and the strained distance between them.
What did she care anyway? That was the point, after all, she kept telling herself. All she had to do was get this over and done with and she could get back to her life. The thought echoed around in her mind. It had a hollow ring to it.
‘And how’s Danny?’ Meg was sure that he was a safe subject, if not a flamboyant one. Danny had been Jake’s best friend for as long as she could remember, sticking with him through thick and thin despite their different natures.
She could see Jake swallow hard. ‘Haven’t seen him in years.’ The indifference in his icy tone shook her. They’d been so close. She would have thought nothing could come between the two of them; they were inseparable. The times Danny would drag Jake off to the pub or to a party…
She shook herself. ‘So how’s work?’ She knew that would get a response. For Jake there was nothing more important. She swallowed another mouthful of lasagna and felt it struggle down her throat.
‘Do you really care, or are you just humouring me?’
‘Of course I’m interested to hear what adventures you’ve found yourself over the last three years.’ She felt she needed reminding of what had held a higher priority than she had, so she could crush the flutters coming from the vicinity of her heart.
Jake raised an eyebrow. ‘As you know I went to Delhi. That was for a gas pipeline. The job dragged on and when I got back you were gone. Well and truly gone.’
She could hear the bitterness in his voice and concentrated on her plate. She swallowed the brick in her throat. ‘Go on.’
He explained how he’d gone from one construction site to another, until it had all blurred into one conglomerate called work. The way Jake spoke it seemed the passion he’d once had for his work was missing. Either that or he was unwilling to share it with her. She didn’t blame him if that was the case.
Jake put down his spoon, his half-eaten gelato melting in the bowl. ‘So what happened, Meg?’
She took a big breath. ‘I didn’t want to be left alone, Jake. My father had done it long enough. I couldn’t do it again.’
‘That’s it?’
‘It was enough,’ Meg whispered hoarsely, her voice threatening to abandon her completely. She wanted to scream at him that he had no idea what it was like to be alone, to wait and then finally, when you thought you’d get some attention and love, something better came up—and it was back to the waiting. And waiting was rejection all over again. Hovering around the front window, the phone and the mailbox for any word from him.
‘Look, I don’t know whether I ever actually said it, but I’m sorry about your dad. I loved him too.’ Jake reached a hand over the table, enclosing hers in his warmth.
A delicious shudder heated Meg’s body. She looked up and her heart lurched madly at the heart-rending tenderness of his gaze.
‘I know.’ She put down the wine. ‘It must have been hard for you to be there—’ She choked on the words. She knew only too well now what had gone on in the last few minutes of her father’s life.
‘I’ll never forget that moment.’ Jake faltered. ‘When that chain slipped and that pipe fell…I’ll never forget.’
Tears sprang into her eyes and she wiped them away jerkily. That moment had changed her whole life. If Jake hadn’t been there; if her father had been standing a metre to one side; if she’d seen the truth before she’d married Jake…
She didn’t dare look at Jake. She couldn’t, just in case she broke down and told him everything—opening herself up again to him and paying for it later.
The silence between them hung heavily, becoming harder and harder to penetrate as the minutes ticked by. Meg’s mind fumbled for something to say. Anything to say.
‘So when is Vivian arriving?’ she blurted.
Jake snapped