A Valentine Kiss. Christy McKellen
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enough distance between them that she wouldn’t feel crowded, but so she could still hear him.
‘Why are you upset?’
She turned and pulled her coat tight around her, determination lining her features. ‘I didn’t like that you looked surprised about me being good at my job.’
It took him a moment to process her words—especially since he was surprised that she had actually chosen to answer him.
‘I wasn’t surprised that you’re good at your job. I know you are.’ He watched her, hoping for some indication that she believed his words, but her face was carefully blank. ‘You took the spark of an idea I had with the first Under the Stars event and turned it into something I’d never dreamed of. And you made it a success. Of course you’re good at your job.’
‘I did do all of that,’ she said after a moment. ‘I am good at my job.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he reiterated, and thought about the vulnerability he’d thought he’d seen in her eyes earlier. ‘But are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?’
She folded her arms in front of her—but not before he saw her wince. She was trying to convince herself, he thought, and wondered how she could even doubt it.
‘Don’t pretend like you know me.’
Because he was suddenly worried that it was true and he didn’t know her, anger stirred inside him again. ‘It goes both ways, Mila.’
‘What?’
‘You assumed that I thought poorly of you because of one look you misinterpreted. If you knew who I was, then you would have known that couldn’t be true.’
‘Then tell me the real reason for your surprise.’
Her arms fell to her sides and he watched her straighten her shoulders. As if she was preparing for battle, he thought. But he couldn’t answer her question. It would open the door that both of them seemed happy to keep closed—the one that protected them from their past.
When he didn’t respond, she shook her head. ‘That’s what I thought.’ She sighed. ‘You know, maybe I jumped to the conclusion that you thought I wasn’t good at my job because you never told me that I was. But then, we didn’t have that kind of relationship, did we?’
She walked away, leaving him wondering what kind of relationship they had had.
MILA WALKED DOWN the gravel road to the amphitheatre, Jordan beside her, and some of her tension eased. It was home, she thought as she looked at the road shaded by trees, their leaves brown and gold as though they didn’t know whether to mourn or celebrate the coming winter. The grass around them had begun to lose its colour, too, though there were still patches that seemed to be fighting to remain as green as in spring.
When she made it through the trees she was standing at the top of a slope that led to the vineyard on the one side, and to the amphitheatre on the other. She had sombrely told Jordan that she would take him there that morning, and thought she needed to get over herself. She’d spent most of her time since their argument thinking about why she’d been upset—the real reason, not the one she had made up.
Because as soon as she’d given herself time to think it through—with Jordan’s words still in her head—she’d realised her reaction the previous day had been because she was doubting her skills. It wasn’t just about her job either. Jordan’s return had reminded her of her failures—at being a wife. At being a mother.
Her heart hiccupped and she laid a hand over her chest, hoping to comfort herself.
Losing her baby when she was barely six months pregnant had only succeeded in amplifying her insecurities. Insecurities that stemmed from growing up without hearing anyone tell her she was good at something—at anything. She could see now that it had led to her believing that she wasn’t good enough. Certainly not for Jordan when she’d first met him, since he’d had everything she hadn’t had in her childhood.
Love, a family, a home.
A little voice had reminded her of that throughout their marriage. It was part of the reason she wished Jordan had told her he was happy with her. Or that he was proud of her. Or that she was a good wife.
But then, they’d never shared things like that during their brief marriage. She had just accepted what he’d said because she’d been afraid to speak up in case it upset him. She hadn’t wanted to risk him realising that their relationship was too good to be true. That she wasn’t the right person for him.
Now she saw no point in keeping her thoughts to herself—he’d realised all that anyway. And perhaps that had been the reason for Jordan’s surprise—she was no longer meek Mila who didn’t speak her mind. What had that got her? Nothing but a heart broken by the loss of her husband and her child.
‘Nothing beats this view,’ Jordan said quietly from beside her, and her heart pounded when she turned and saw him looking at her. But then he nodded towards the vineyard, and she mentally kicked herself. Of course he wasn’t talking about her—especially since things between them were still tense.
She turned her attention to the vineyard to hide her embarrassment at thinking such a silly thing, and took in the clash of different shades of red and brown. Fields of the colours together was a picture she would never forget—even when it was years in the future and she no longer had any reason to be a part of the Thomas Vineyard. She could see the dam just beyond the fields, large and beautiful, and behind it the hills that made the vineyard look surreal.
Walking the vineyard with him felt like old times. Despite how difficult things were with them now, when they had walked past the chapel where they’d got married, Mila’s heart had longed for the people they’d been then. It didn’t help that the weather had turned from the rain of the previous day to bright sunshine. It reminded her of her wedding day, almost two years ago.
It had been cold, true to the season, but the sun had been shining just as it was today, as though the gods had approved their union. A fanciful thought, she realised now, indicative of the person she had been then. The person who had fallen in love at first sight and married three months later.
The fact that their wedding anniversary was a few weeks away pained her, and she tried to ignore it. Her mind reminded her that she and Jordan hadn’t been together long enough—physically or emotionally—for them to celebrate their first anniversary. Now, on their second, they’d be together physically, but emotionally...
‘It’s more beautiful than I remember,’ he said, and she almost smiled at the sincerity in his voice.
‘It’s become a bit like home to me in the past year,’ she murmured, deep in thought, and then her stomach dropped when she realised what she had said. ‘Because of Greg,’ she added hurriedly, hoping it would make her words seem less like a revelation.
He didn’t answer her, and when she looked over he had a blank expression on his face. How was it possible that the tension between them could become worse? she wondered, her insides twisting.
‘I have memories of every part of this place,’ he said, his face pensive now. ‘This is where I last saw my mother. This is where my father raised me.’
Mila frowned. Had he just willingly mentioned his mother? His reaction the previous night when she’d said something about her had been what Mila was used to. A quick brush-off, an unwillingness to respond. She had wanted to know about his mother so badly when they were dating, when they were married, but she’d never had the nerve to push beyond Jordan’s resistance. Since she didn’t really want to offer information to him either, she’d convinced herself that it didn’t matter. That one day, while they watched their children play in front of the house, he would tell her about the woman who had died when he was five, and she would hold his hand and tell him that it was okay.
But