By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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hook up with such a loser?’
She stopped then, her eyes flicking between Leo and Sam. ‘You don’t know the first thing about me. And you certainly don’t know the first thing about him. He just turned out not to be who I thought he was.’
‘I know that he was a fool to let you go.’
Wow, she thought, forced to close her eyes for a second as the tremor rattled through her, where did that come from?
‘Thanks,’ she said, still getting over his last comment. ‘But it was me who was the fool.’
‘For getting pregnant? You can’t blame yourself for that.’
For ever imagining he was anything at all like Leo. ‘No. For believing him. He was an interstate consultant who visited every couple of weeks. Always flirting. We worked late one night, he invited me out for a drink afterwards’—and he had sexy dark hair and olive skin and dark eyes and I wanted to pretend…
‘And?’
She shrugged. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘You told him about Sam—about the pregnancy?’
‘I told him. I wasn’t particularly interested in seeing him again, but I thought he had a right to know. He wasn’t interested as it happened. He was more interested in his wife not finding out.’
‘Scum!’ he spat, surprising her with the level of ferocity behind the word.
‘It’s not so bad. At least I’ve got Sam. And it got me motivated to start my own business.’ She caught a flash of movement in the crystal clear water, a school of tiny fish darting to and fro in the shallows. She scooped up her son and ventured to the water’s edge, careful not to disturb them. ‘Look Sam,’ she said, ‘fish!’
And Sam’s eyes opened wide, his arms pumping up and down. ‘Fith!’
She laughed, chasing the fish in the shallows even as she envied her young son his raw enthusiasm. She envied him his simple needs and pleasures. Why did it have to become so hard when you were a grown up, she wondered, when the world spun not on the turns of the planet and shades of dark or light, but on emotions that made a mockery of science and fact and good sense.
Wanting Leo was so not good sense.
Loving him made even less.
Maureen was wrong. She had to be.
The mood at dinner was jovial, the conversation flowing and fun. Only Leo seemed tense, strangely separate from the group, as if he’d already moved on to the next place, the next deal. The next woman. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, on the way back to their bure, his hand like a vise around hers. ‘Do you want to go take a walk first?’
Hannah had taken Sam back earlier and by now he would be safely in the land of Nod. They didn’t have to rush back if he had something on his mind.
He blew out in a rush. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight,’ he said almost too quickly, as if the words had been waiting to spill out. ‘It’ll be better that way.’
And she stopped right where she was and refused to move on so he had no choice but to turn and face her. ‘You’re telling me that after three nights of the best sex of my life, on the last night we have together, you’re going to sleep on the sofa? Not a chance.’
He tried to smile. Failed miserably. ‘It’s for the best.’
‘Who says? What’s wrong, Leo? Why can’t you tell me?’
‘Believe me,’ he snorted, ‘you really don’t want to know.’
‘I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. What the hell changes tonight? The fact you don’t have to pretend anymore?’
‘You think I ever had to pretend about that?’
‘Then don’t pretend you don’t want me tonight.’ She moved closer, ran her free hand up his chest, ‘We’ve got just one night left together. We’re good together. You said that yourself. Why can’t we enjoy it?’
He grabbed her hand, pushed it away. ‘Don’t you understand? It’s for your own good!’
‘How can I believe that if you won’t tell me? What’s wrong? Is it the dreams you’re having?’
And he made a roar like a wounded animal in distress, a cry that spoke of so much pain and anguish and loss that it chilled her to the bone. ‘Just leave it,’ he said. ‘Just leave me.’
He turned and stormed off across the sand towards the beach, leaving her standing there, gutted and empty on the path.
Maybe it was better this way, she thought, as she dragged herself back to the bure, forcing herself to put on a bright face for Hannah who wasn’t taken in for a moment, she could tell, but she wasn’t about to explain it to anyone. Not when she had no idea what was happening herself.
She checked Sam, listening to his even breathing, giving thanks for the fact he was in her life, giving thanks for the gift she’d been given, even if borne of a mistake. He was the best mistake she’d ever made.
And then she dragged bedding to the sofa, knowing from the previous night Leo was more likely to disturb her if he tried to fit onto the sofa than because of any nightmare he might have. At least she knew he would fit on the big king sized bed.
She lay there in the dark, waiting for what seemed like hours, until at last she heard his footfall on the decking outside. She cracked open her eyelids as the sliding door swooshed open and she saw his silhouette framed in the doorway, big and dark and not dangerous, like she’d always seen him, but strangely sad. He crossed the floor softly, hesitating when he got to the sofa. She could hear him at her feet, hear his troubled breathing.
Come to me, she willed, pick me up and carry me to bed like you have done before and make love to me.
And she heard him turn on a sigh and move away. She heard the bathroom door snick closed and she squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what he would do if she sneaked into the bed before he came back; knowing it was futile because he would straightaway head for the sofa.
He didn’t need her any more. Or he didn’t want her. What did it matter which or both it was? They both hurt like hell. They both hurt like someone had ripped out her heart and torn it to shreds and trampled on the pieces.
Could injured pride feel this bad? Could a miffed ego tear out your heart and rip it to shreds? Or had she been kidding herself and it had been Maureen who had been right all along?
Oh god, surely she hadn’t fallen in love with Leo?
And yet all along she had known it was a risk, the greater risk; had known the possibility was there, the possibility to be drawn deeper and deeper under his spell until she could not bear the thought of being without him. All along she had known he had a heart of stone and still she had managed to do the unthinkable.
She’d fallen in love with him.
She lay there in the semi-gloom, the once silvery light of the moon now a dull grey, listening to him climb into bed, listening to him toss and turn and sigh, wishing him peace, even if he couldn’t find it with her.
The scream woke him and he stilled with fear, hoping he’d imagined it. But then he heard the shouting, his father’s voice, calling his mother those horrible names he didn’t understand only to know they must be bad, and he cringed, waiting for the blow that would come at the end of his tirade. Then it came with a thump and his mother made a sound like a football when you kick it on the street and he vomited right there in his bed. He climbed out, weak and shaky, to the sound of his mother’s cries, the bitter taste of sick in his mouth.
‘Stamata,’ he cried weakly through his tears, knowing he would be in trouble for messing up his bed, knowing his mother would be angry with him, wanting her to be angry with him so that things might be normal again. ‘Stamato to