One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (110 page)

The last flicker of false hope was doused for ever as he wrapped his arms around her and they wandered, entwined, out of the ballroom.

As he utterly humiliated her.

And all Lily knew was that she couldn't go on like this—couldn't sit in a ballroom, even if it was for charity, just to keep up appearances. Knew that with every day that passed her normality faded, that with every kiss, with every night spent in his arms it became easier to forgive the unthinkable, easier to accept that little piece of him he offered than to be left with nothing at all.

‘Excuse me!' Picking up her bag, Lily tried to disappear without making a scene, tried to pretend she was just nipping out to the loo, but Emma's eyes were frowning.

‘Is everything OK, Lily?' she checked. ‘Wait a second and I'll come with you.'

Which put paid to her rapid exit.

‘I know he's practically ignored you all night.' Emma chewed her lip nervously as Lily blew her nose into a handkerchief, hateful tears escaping the second they hit the ladies'. ‘But that's the way he is when he's working—and tonight
is
work, Lily. I haven't even told him about Jim and I. Once this ball's over things will calm down. He should never have taken it on.'

‘It isn't that…' Lily snapped her lips together, Emma absolutely the last person she could reveal her plight to, but it scared her how much she wanted to. ‘I'm just being silly…' Lily attempted a smile, but it was a rather poor effort.

‘Come out and have some champagne.'

‘I'll just stay here for a bit.' Lily shook her head. ‘Try and make myself presentable.'

‘Alone?' Emma checked, and Lily nodded, tears welling again in her eyes as Emma turned her wheelchair and left, smiling at her proud independence as she negotiated the doors. Knowing their friendship was probably at an end and missing her already.

It
was
all over.

Bypassing the raucous queue for a taxi, Lily chose to walk. Her high heels clipped as she walked along the river, oblivious to the occasional wolf whistle, too blinded with grief to care whether walking alone at this late hour was a wise move. She arrived at Hunter's apartment block and realised it never had been, nor would it ever be, home.

She'd tell him about the baby when she was ready, Lily decided, pressing the lift button and stepping inside. His reaction didn't worry her now. It was the baby that was her sole concern—and either way, whatever way he played it, she'd stay strong. For now she'd get her things and leave him a note, tell him she'd be in touch in a few days…

It never once entered her head that he'd have beaten her home.

Even when he was being his vilest, she'd never thought he'd stoop as blatantly low as this, but stepping out of the bedroom, smiling with malice, was Abigail.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘Actually, I could ask the same of you.' Abigail gave a small scoff of laughter. ‘You just keep coming back for more, don't you?'

‘Get out!' Lily spat the words like a hissing kitten as she flung open the front door. Abigail must have realised she was serious because after only a second of hesitation she picked up her bag and smartly walked out of the door.

‘Oh, and, Lily!' Turning as she came to the lift, Lily saw the twist of a smile on Abigail's face as she called out to her. ‘Happy birthday!'

He'd cheapened her more than she'd ever thought possible.

Stepping into the master bedroom, hearing the soft, ever-present music, seeing his magnificent profile sprawled sideways, the white moonlight draining all the colour and leaving only grey.

The saddest colour, she thought as she tiptoed across the bedroom floor, it took away the blood red of his lips, the sparkle of his eyes, the swarthy colour of his complexion, yet it allowed for so much else.

Allowed her to see the duplicity of their union, the beauty that had blinded her to the impossibility of it all, the delusion she, like so many others clung to—that love might somehow make it work.

She stood for a minute, maybe two, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, taking those precious seconds to capture his image for the final time, to take in his beauty while she still could. She didn't want to wake him up, didn't want his eyes to open, because when they did, truth would invade—a truth she couldn't live with—so she took that precious moment before it ended, held onto it just as long as she possibly could.

‘I'm leaving.'

Two words that should have been shouted were instead softly spoken, yet the impact was just as deep. She watched as his body unfurled beneath the sheets, as crystal eyes clouded on opening.

‘It's not what it looks like—'

‘It doesn't matter anyway.' For the longest time he stared at her, waited for her to elaborate, and finally she did. ‘It doesn't matter what happened tonight because I'm leaving anyway. I'm just not happy with you, Hunter.'

Any protest he was mustering faded then. Whatever it was on the tip of his tongue remained forever unsaid as he paid her the greatest of insults. He just let out a long weary sigh, turned on his side and, pulled the sheet up over his shoulders.

‘Well, that's it, then.'

His boredom, his blatant dismissal of her was the final straw. She felt as if a fist had been rammed into her stomach, the pain so violent she thought she might vomit. His outline beneath the sheet was utterly still and suddenly Lily felt like kicking him, felt like slapping him for his inaction,

‘That's it?' Her voice was rising with every word, her whole body rigid with tension, every fibre in her being taut, her mounting fury fuelled by his inaction. That he could just lie there and take it as he reduced her to what she'd dreaded becoming—another woman whose heart he'd broken, another tearful female sobbing at the bitter end. ‘I tell you I'm leaving and you just roll over and go to sleep!'

‘Lily…' He pulled himself up on his elbow, opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it, the anger that had been curiously absent trickling in as she took in his naked form beneath the sheets, his rumpled clothes on the floor and the pungent smell of Abigail's perfume hanging in the air. ‘It's not how it seems…'

‘Don't!' She spat out the word. ‘Don't even try, Hunter.' She'd never felt anger before—she'd
thought
she'd felt it. Sitting, reading her father's lover's letters had been a pretty good dress rehearsal, finding her fiancé in bed with her best friend an impressive warm-up, but it didn't compare to the churning rage sweeping through her now. Not churning,
boiling,
fury unleashing so rapidly it hurt, hurt so badly she wanted to inflict it, too, wanted to kick him out of his inactions, wanted him to feel a fraction of the agony that drenched her now.

‘You really think you're better than everyone else—you really think that your money and looks somehow mean that you can write your own rules. Well, guess what?' She was shouting, really shouting, her anger rising as still he lay there, his eyes closed as if waiting for it pass, clearly more than used to emotional ends! ‘I'm better than you! I'm better than the sham you offered, the tiny piece you were willing to provide of yourself! Whatever it is you're running from, I hope you never get there. Whatever you're drowning your emotions in, I hope it chokes you.'

There was a whole jewellery box there for the taking, a purse full of credit cards and a story that if sold could see her through to her pension, but Lily packed the bare minimum.

The very bare minimum.

Pulling off her rings, she laid them neatly on the bedside table, watched the lack of reaction from the man she loved, and almost in defiance picked up the remote and flicked off the stereo.

Turned off the noise that constantly clouded the issue.

‘Give me that.' It was the most animated she'd seen him, his hand reaching out for the remote, grabbing at her wrist, but she shook him off, pulling out the batteries on the tiny piece of silver metal and hurling them across the room. ‘Focus on what you've lost, Hunter. Stop drowning it out with emails or music or sex or whatever the latest fix is. Focus on what's walking out the door—and I'm telling you now that it's the best bloody thing that ever happened to you! I loved you, I know you don't want to hear it, I know you'll despise me for it—but I happened to love you.'

The lift took for ever to come, which out of it all was the hardest part—standing in the foyer, tears choking her, having laid her heart on the line, waiting for the silver doors to take her away from it all.

Knowing had even if he had loved her even a little bit—he'd had plenty of time to follow her.

S
INCE
she'd found her father's letters, home hadn't really felt like it, yet strangely that was where Lily found solace.

Cocooned almost in a time when everything was right—when, no matter the problem, no matter how dire the circumstance or how extenuating the circumstances, it could somehow be made right.

And even if this was too big to fix, even if the problems that daunted her couldn't be soothed with a kiss and a smile, it was nice to retreat awhile, nice to lie on the quilt that had seen her through adolescence, to listen to the coming and goings of the family home and pause to regroup.

To hear the footsteps of her mother on the stairs, the creak of the door and the welcome scent of coffee, toast, and if not understanding, just the sharing of unconditional love as her mum sat on the side of the bed and wrapped Lily in her arms to shield her from the appalling sadness. Because again it was clear there was no news for her mother to tell,

Hunter still hadn't rung.

‘Couples have rows,' Catherine offered, for the hundredth time. ‘You know I love you, but you have to talk to him. You can't just hide here, you have to face your problems as a couple, deal with them.'

‘He doesn't love me.' There, she'd said it, admitted as much to her mother as she could without revealing all the sordid details, but Catherine just shook her head.

‘Rubbish! He adores you,' Catherine admonished, and Lily pulled her hands over her ears, couldn't take the well-intended comfort. ‘I know he loves you.'

‘Mum—'

‘He does,' Catherine insisted. ‘He loves you just as your father loved me. Marriages take work, Lily.'

She couldn't bear it, could hardly bear to lie there and be delivered a lecture from the most unwitting of victims, to be told the rules of love from someone who clearly hadn't a clue. She pulled the sheet higher, nestled in the pillows and braced herself for a vague response, prepared her mind for a grateful smile to her mother for supposedly making it all better.

‘You think I don't know what I'm talking about, don't you?'

‘I think things were different between you and Dad,' Lily answered carefully. ‘The problems Hunter and I face…'

‘Are more complicated,' her mother offered. ‘More painful, more difficult? Just because you're younger, it doesn't mean you feel things more.'

‘I wasn't saying that,' Lily attempted, but her words faded as her mother broke in.

‘Your father had an affair…'

It was as if the universe had tipped on its axis, the whole world spinning as Lily digested what her mother had said. Surely the books should be spinning off the shelves, the pictures collapsing under the weight of revelation, but as she peered out from under the sheet the room was exactly as she had left it. The only difference Lily could see, was the very real understanding in her mother's supposedly oblivious eyes, a different perspective on years of torture.

‘No.' Though she'd known it for years, Lily still attempted to deny it, to squeeze the cork back into the bottle. But the genie was out, filling the room with an honesty that seeped into Lily's marrow, that erased so much more than deceit—it showed her the woman her mother had always been.

Revealed the child
she
still was.

‘I could have killed him when I found out.' Catherine smiled down at her child, pushed back a strand of hair in a long-forgotten gesture. ‘I was going to leave.'

‘Why didn't you?'

‘I actually did leave him—remember the time we went to stay at Granny Meldrum's?' She gave a wistful smile and suddenly looked a decade younger than her years, and in that moment Lily was assailed with memories. Not the tired woman she saw now. Instead, she remembered her mother in a boxy suit, pursing her lips in the mirror of her grandmother's home before heading off to work, defiant, sexy and somehow proud.

‘Are you saying that the two of you had broken up?' Lily shook her head. ‘I don't remember any rows, I don't—'

‘We kept it from you.' Catherine smiled. ‘In fact, for the first couple of days I didn't even tell my mother why we were there, though she soon worked it out.'

‘She knew?' Lily blinked. ‘Granny Meldrum knew about Dad's affair? What on earth did she say?'

‘Not what I wanted her to,' Catherine said. ‘She pointed out that I'd changed—that since I'd gone back to work…' Catherine let out a long sigh and suddenly it wasn't her mother sitting on the bed but another woman, an older, wiser woman who maybe really did understand. ‘There was a guy in the office, we flirted a bit and I suppose it all went to my head. Suddenly I wasn't just a wife and a mum, I was earning my own money, going out for drinks after work…' She shook her head and Lily was glad, because she didn't know if she'd ever have been able to ask her mother that question. ‘I didn't have an affair, Lily, but I thought about it—and maybe in time, if I hadn't found out about your father, it would have happened.

‘We worked it out, Lily. Both of us came to our senses and realised our mistakes, worked out together that we really did love each other.'

‘You forgave him?'

‘And he forgave me,' Catherine said softly. ‘We had a rough patch, and, yes, it was hell at that time, but we were so, so much more than that, Lily. He was a wonderful husband, a great father…' Lily could almost
feel
Hunter in the room,
feel
his arms around her, understood now that it wasn't, nor ever had been her secret to keep or reveal or even attempt to understand. ‘Look,' Catherine continued only this time Lily listened. ‘I don't know what's gone on…' As the phone rang and Catherine went to answer it, Lily lay there, wishing it could be so, wishing that she and Hunter had some of the foundations of her parents' marriage to build on in desperate times.

‘Lily.' Catherine's tentative voice broke into her thoughts and Lily's heart soared with hope, only to be dashed as she heard her mother's worried voice. ‘That was a reporter from one of the news channels.'

‘Just say I'm not here,' Lily answered quickly. ‘Tell them you don't know anything about the break-up.' Frowning, she watched as her mother, instead of heading back out to the hall, came and sat down on the bed, her eyes widening as she took in her mother's pale face, felt her mother's hands wrap around hers, just as she had when she'd come into the room one morning and told her that her father had died.

‘They want to know if I've heard anything from you at the hospital.'

‘The hospital?' She didn't understand, could hear her voice coming from a long way off as her mind darted to Hunter, as tiny shards of recollection pieced together.

‘He was found collapsed this morning, that's all I know.'