The Billionaire’s Baby (13 page)

C
AMRYN
picked up the phone for the fifth time that morning before slamming the handset back in its receiver.

She had to call Blane. She’d prevaricated long enough, and last night’s drama in the ER with Jemma only served to strengthen her resolve.

He loved his niece, desperately, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, and if he had that much love to give a niece, imagine how great he’d be as a father.

Setting him free was the right thing to do. Her head knew it, her heart would never catch up.

She hadn’t slept a wink in the wee small hours when she’d made it back here for her first night in her brand-spanking-new apartment, hadn’t been able to force a morsel of food past her lips this morning, and could barely drag her feet around the place to do a much-needed clean.

She’d never felt so drained, so lifeless, and every one of her bones ached as if she had some terrible flu.

She was sick all right: heartsick over losing the love of her life all over again.

While her heart ached and her soul emptied of joy, she picked up the phone and dialled his number, sinking into her favourite zebra-print leather chair and curling her legs up under her.

‘Hello?’

He answered on the fourth ring, and her belly somersaulted at the familiar rich timbre of his voice.

‘Blane, it’s me. How’s Jemma?’

‘She’s fine. Jodi just called, said she’ll make a full recovery.’

‘That’s great,’ she breathed, surprised at the depth of her relief. The little girl had wound her way into her affection, but she hadn’t realised just how deeply. ‘Jodi must be relieved.’

‘We all are. How are you doing? You looked pretty exhausted by the time I dropped you off.’

‘I am.’

She didn’t elaborate, all too aware what she had to say had to be done in person, and hoping he’d go for her plan. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking and was wondering if you’d like to take a trip with me to Rainbow Creek.’

‘Sure. When?’

He didn’t miss a beat, even though he had to be more than a little surprised.

‘How about this weekend? I’m tied up here every night till then.’

‘Sounds great.’

He paused, as if searching for the right words, and she knew what was coming next before he spoke. ‘Are you planning on seeing your parents?’

‘Uh-huh.’

Among other things, namely taking him back to the place it all began for them, hoping he’d understand when she told him why she had to let him go.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

He wouldn’t be, not when she revealed her real motivation for heading back.

‘Thanks. Look, I’ve got an incoming call on my mobile from a supplier, and it’s important. I have to go.’

Clutching the phone, she willed him to say something else, anything else, for the simple pleasure of hearing his voice, for there wouldn’t be many more times she would.

‘No worries. I’ll chat to you later.’

‘Bye.’

She ended the call before she blurted the truth or changed her mind, staring at the phone, the dial tone humming its lifeless tune.

Flinging it onto the side table next to her, she hugged her knees tightly to her chest and rested her chin on them in the vain attempt to squeeze some of the pain out of her.

It didn’t work, and, staring around the new open-plan room—her renovations completed on time thanks to Blane—with its sleek modern glass tables, funky zebra-print suite and slashes of bright-coloured artwork, she wondered if she’d ever be able to get past this.

This was the life she’d chosen: this ultra-modern apartment in the heart of the city, just across from a hip, trendy café she owned, with the freedom to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.

She was living the dream.

But she’d give it all away in a heartbeat if she could have kids with Blane.

Deep, painful sobs bubbled up from within, and as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickled down her cheeks, and she let them fall, the first time she’d cried so hard in years.

She’d been a city girl for so long now—fiercely independent, headstrong, and able to handle anything with a flick of her designer handbag and a sidestep in sky-high stilettos. She’d been that self-sufficient city girl for six years, so why the horrible, helpless feeling she couldn’t get past this? Or the insane instinct to run home into her mother’s comforting arms?

She had to get through this. She had to let him go to follow
his dream just as he’d done for her all those years ago. She had to strengthen her resolve, get over this vulnerability, get away from reminders of him around every corner, get away from everything for a while…

Her eyes snapped open, and she dashed a hand across her cheeks. That was it. The answer to her problems. But before she could escape, she needed to take a trip of another sort.

A trip back in time.

Ochre-coloured dust rose in a billowing plume as Blane’s ute pulled away, leaving Camryn no option but to sling her bag over her shoulder and head for the coffee house. She hadn’t told her folks she was coming home, had counted on the element of surprise to get them past the awful awkwardness of a reunion.

Six years. She hadn’t spoken to them or set foot in Rainbow Creek in six long years, and, trudging up the main street, she saw that nothing had changed.

One general store, one country pub, a grocer and a tiny church, with Ma and Pa’s Coffee House tacked on the end.

Inwardly cringing at the name as she always did, she forced her feet to move down the deserted street. She’d deliberately chosen this time to arrive, knowing the town virtually shut down after dark on a Sunday, effectively shielding her from prying eyes and wagging tongues. If she were lucky, she could say what she had to say, confront her demons, and be back in Blane’s arms at the motel in under an hour.

He’d understood her need to do this on her own. No surprise considering he seemed to understand everything about her. Until she took him down to the river tomorrow and told him why she was really here; she had a feeling he wouldn’t understand that at all.

As she neared the end of the street and caught her first
glimpse of the tiny red brick cottage at the rear of the coffee house, a powerful wave of nostalgia crashed over her, almost knocking her off her feet.

A lamp glowed from behind closed floral curtains in the front room, and she’d bet it was the same awful elephant lamp her mum had picked up for a song at a car boot sale all those years ago. Smoke billowed from the crooked chimney, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly aware of the colder, crisper country air and her totally unsuitable chiffon top, the height of fashion in Melbourne, the height of stupidity here.

A shadow passed across the lit window, and she gasped, the enormity of what she was about to do hitting home. The prodigal daughter returns…but would she be welcome? Would she learn the truth behind her parents’ selfish actions?

Taking a deep breath, she ploughed forward, long, strong strides which ate up the distance between her and the cottage. She’d had the courage to leave this house, this town, in the first place, had opened her own café in a city filled with high-quality competition, had thrived on every challenge thrown her way. Surely she could do this?

Knocking a tad loudly at the front door, she waited, clutching her bag tightly, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation and all it would entail: the recriminations, the accusations, the judgements.

However, as the door creaked open, and she looked into her mother’s open-mouthed, astonished face, all she could think about was breaching the short distance between them and flinging herself into her mum’s arms.

‘Cammie!’

She didn’t have to make a move as her mum catapulted her short, rotund body across the threshold and flung her arms around her in a vice-like hug, crushing the air out of her, bringing tears to her eyes with the joy in her greeting.

‘Hi, Mum. Long time no see, huh?’

Blinking back tears, she waited till her mum released her, preparing for the censure which would surely follow a purely instinctive greeting.

However, as she scanned her mum’s lined face, the faded blue eyes, the quivering mouth, all she saw was undisguised happiness, and her heart turned over with regret.

Regret for leaving this reunion so long, regret for being so stubborn, but, most of all, regret for the years they’d lost.

‘Come in, love. Your dad’s out, but he’ll be back soon. The kettle’s on.’

And just like that she stepped back in time, taking the first tentative step to mend a fence she’d thought irrevocably broken.

As she followed her mum through the narrow hallway, she inhaled deeply, the familiar aroma of baked golden syrup and rolled oats from her mum’s signature Anzac biscuits filling the air, enveloping her in its warmth, assaulting her senses with vivid memories of juggling a hot biscuit from hand to hand before cramming the delicious crunchy goodness into her young mouth.

Her throat clogged at the memory, and she swiped a hand over her eyes, only to be confronted with more memories as she dropped her hand and her misty gaze alighted on the old corkboard next to the fridge, bearing old Christmas cards she’d made at primary school, her first finger-painting, her old high-school year photos.

‘Nothing’s changed,’ she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the dresser covered in imitation Wedgewood plates, the windows draped in faded gingham, the ancient Aga stove and the worn wooden table with its four spindly-legged chairs.

‘Not much does around here.’

Her mum bustled about the kitchen as she always did, though rather than plonking her favourite chipped enamel
teapot on the table, she carefully placed her good china one down, the teapot she’d only ever used for ‘fancy’ guests.

Right then it hit her. She’d become a guest in her own home—the place she’d grown up, the place she’d always felt safe, the place where she’d first dreamed of a life far, far away.

‘Don’t stand around, love. Tea’s getting cold.’

Just like that, the tears started, a tiny trickle which soon became a cascading waterfall, while great sobs racked her body as she collapsed into her mum’s open arms.

‘There, there, love. This has been a long time coming. Let it all out.’

She did, crying bucket-loads for the lost years while her mum rubbed her back in small, soothing circles as she had when she’d broken her arm jumping off the shed roof as a kid.

After what seemed like an eternity, her sobs petered out, and she pulled away, dashing a hand across her stinging eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

‘Don’t worry, love. Nothing a good cry can’t fix.’

‘But it’s been so long…’ She trailed off, her throat clogged with emotion at the depth of love she glimpsed in her mum’s eyes.

‘We knew you’d come back eventually.’

Patting her shoulder, her mum picked up the teapot and filled china cups to brimming, adding a dash of lemon to hers, just as she used to.

‘I wasn’t going to, you know.’

Her mum’s hand stilled, and the teapot wobbled before she carefully placed it on a coaster. ‘Then what changed your mind?’

‘Blane. He’s back in my life. And he said some things about the past that got me thinking.’

Picking up her tea, she took a sip, savouring the strong tannin mingling with the tart lemon. She hadn’t had tea since she’d left here, deliberately turning her back on her roots, des
perate to shrug off a past that had dragged her down. Or so she’d thought.

‘Go on.’

Her mum offered her a plate of Anzac biscuits, and she shook her head.

‘I need to say this, to get it off my chest. I’ve spent a lot of years resenting you and Dad for not supporting my dreams of moving to Melbourne, for manipulating me.’

Sipping at her tea, she forced herself to raise her gaze and meet her mother’s unwavering one.

‘I blamed you for holding me back, thinking you were control freaks for doing what you did. But it took Blane’s objectivity to make me realise perhaps you did it out of love. That I was your only child; maybe you wanted to hold on too tight.’

Taking a deep breath, she ploughed on. ‘Guess you didn’t understand that I loved you both so much that even after I’d left town I would’ve always visited. I wouldn’t have forgotten you.’

Reaching over, she grabbed her mum’s hand and squeezed tight. ‘Leaving Rainbow Creek was never about escaping you. You and Dad were great parents. I just wished I’d told you that the night we had our big row rather than saying half the things we said. I’m sorry.’

Tears shimmered in her mum’s eyes, and, with a shock, she realised she’d never seen her mum cry. Not once.

In all the years growing up, her mum had been incredibly strong: working manic hours at the coffee shop, always putting a decent meal on the table, helping out at the school, never complaining about her workload.

How had she repaid her? By blaming her for something that wasn’t entirely her fault.

‘We’re the ones who owe you an apology.’

Taking a tissue out of the gigantic pocket on the front of her apron, her mum blew her nose loudly before continuing. ‘You’re right. I was a control freak. I didn’t want you to leave, so I manipulated the money situation. What you don’t know is why…’

Her mum trailed off, looking older, frailer than she’d ever seen her. Raising stricken blue eyes to hers, she continued. ‘I was like you once. Pie-in-the-sky dreams of the big city; I couldn’t wait to escape my mum’s clutches. But, unlike you, I was stupid enough to run away to Melbourne with barely a cent to my name. I fell for the first guy who looked my way and ended up pregnant—and alone when I told him.’

Camryn’s sharp intake of breath hissed dramatically through the kitchen as she looked, really looked, at the woman she thought she’d known all these years.

‘I told my mum, and she didn’t want a bar of me, wanted to teach me a lesson; then I miscarried, also alone, and it was the worst experience of my life.’

As if the pea-soup fog that occasionally blanketed Rainbow Creek in the winter had lifted the blurred edges from her eyes, she suddenly saw everything in crystal-clear clarity.