When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (8 page)

With the tension and the secrets out of the way, we shared common memories of her brother that were wistful rather than fraught. She reminded me of all of the times when she’d follow him around the house like a shadow and marvelled that Declan always used to play with her whenever she asked, even if he was studying.

‘He was such a great brother,’ she sighed.

‘He actually told me that he’d learned the quickest way to get rid of you was to play with you for a few minutes and wait for you to get bored and move onto something else,’ I told her, a little reluctantly.

‘Well, that probably explains it,’ Molly laughed. ‘Even so, he
was
so tolerant of me.’ She glanced at me. ‘You were his first rebellion, you know. I don’t remember him ever disagreeing with Dad until you started turning up at our house.’

‘You never really spoke to me,’ I said suddenly. ‘I had a feeling I scared you.’

‘No, you didn’t scare me, I just knew Dad didn’t like you. And I
always
do what Dad wants.’ There was a bitterness in her tone. She sighed suddenly and shook her head. ‘It’s pathetic.’

‘He likes me even less now,’ I pointed out. ‘And yet, here you are.’

‘Yeah, but you watch me panic if he happens to walk around the corner.’ She rubbed her forehead as she sought my gaze. ‘Sorry, I wish I wasn’t like this. He’s just always moving the bar, you know? His approval is
my
addiction. Whenever he asks me to do something, I try so hard but it’s never quite good enough so I get sucked into this cycle of always trying to make him happy and it means my whole life ends up as an endless quest for his favour.’

‘You don’t
have
to live like that, Molly,’ I said. I wanted to cup her face in my hands and smooth away the worry lines that surfaced on her forehead and around her eyes whenever the subject of Laith arose. I leant towards her and added, ‘With the resources you have, you could do literally anything you can dream of. What a waste to spend a life with such potential stuck doing something you don’t have a passion for.’

‘I wish I were braver,’ she murmured, and her gaze sought mine, as if she could find the impetus to solve the problem somewhere in my eyes. ‘I wish I was someone with real courage, like
you
. If you were in my shoes, you’d probably resign and use your trust fund to solve world hunger or something. You must think I’m a spineless fool.’

‘It’s only natural that you don’t want to disappoint your parents. But life is pretty short, and you only get one shot at it.’

‘I realise that living my life trying to please Dad is completely ridiculous,’ she murmured, fiddling with her wine stem. ‘I know we were joking about finding a defining moment but I do have a bit of a plan. I’m going to make myself open to the possibilities and see if I can find something that really brings me to life.
Then
I might have the guts to leave.’

I shifted on the bench seat so that I could rest my arm against the backrest and face her fully. As I did so, I accidentally brushed my knee against her thigh. We both tensed, and my gaze flew to her face to watch for her reaction. She bit her lip for just a second, and then she lifted her gaze from the wine glass to my face. I was close enough that I could see the way her pupils dilated, and when she released a withheld breath, I felt the air warm against the skin of my neck. Molly’s gaze was curious; she was assessing my reaction, just as I was assessing hers. She didn’t seem at all hesitant – but she wasn’t really giving much away either.

‘So…’ I murmured. ‘How will you make yourself “open to the possibilities”?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ she admitted. Her voice was low and she spoke slowly. ‘Do you have some ideas?’

Oh, I had plenty of ideas – and more were coming to me by the second.

‘Why don’t you go after some new experiences and see where they lead you?’ I suggested quietly.

‘Oh, I’ve had a
lot
of experience already,’ Molly said, and she leant her elbow on the table. She rubbed at the back of her neck with her hand, staring at me from beneath her lashes, waiting for my response.

‘You have, have you?’

‘Not
too
much, although I’m not actually convinced there
is
such a thing,’ she said suddenly. ‘Actually, I’d say I’ve had just the right amount.’

She spoke so casually that I started to wonder if I was completely misreading the situation. I continued to stare at her for a moment, then realised my addled brain wasn’t going to make sense of it – that there was only one way to find out.

‘What kind of experiences are
you
talking about?’ I asked her.

‘That depends what
you
were talking about,’ she said pointedly.

‘I was going to suggest travel,’ I said, and then we both started laughing.

‘You were bloody not!’

‘I was!’ I protested, and Molly straightened her posture. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and I thought for one shocking second that she was going to kiss me, right then and there. My chest felt frozen – too tight to draw in enough air to speak normally. She leant closer still, her eyes fixed on my lips, but then when her face was right
before mine, she lifted her gaze to mine. Our eyes locked, and from the corner of my eye I saw Molly’s lips part. I was literally holding my breath by that stage, unable to move, other than to lean towards her ever so slightly.

‘Li-ar,’ she whispered very slowly, and then she grinned at me as she pulled away and straightened in her seat to face the harbour. I laughed – but it was a weak and uneven laugh. In equal parts I was shaken by her game and delighted by her playfulness but one thing was certain – I was completely under her spell. I reached for her elbow and very gently turned her back to face me. Our eyes locked again, and this time the playfulness was gone altogether.

‘Have dinner with me tomorrow,’ I said.

‘We had dinner here tonight,’ Molly pointed out. She wasn’t going to make this easy, but that was just fine with me – I loved the challenge of this more pointed interplay between us.

‘Not like this,’ I said. ‘A proper dinner.’

‘You mean a dinner where we don’t spend half the night talking about the tragic death of my beloved big brother?’ she said, one eyebrow high.

‘Would that be okay?’

‘Can I pick the venue?’

‘Why?’

‘There’s a place I’d like to go with you.’

‘Okay,’ I said. She could have asked for the moon that night and I’d have found a way to get it for her. Letting her choose yet another swanky, rich-lady dinner place was fine. It saved me trying to figure out where the hell to take her anyway.

‘Seven o’clock?’ she prompted.

‘Where will I meet you?’

‘I’ll text you tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ I said, and then, just to make doubly sure we were both on the same page, I added quietly, ‘It’s a date.’

‘It’s a date,’ she echoed, and then, flashing me a quick smile, she scooped her phone up from the table and glanced at the screen. She pressed a few buttons and then murmured apologetically, ‘I really need to go.’

‘Okay,’ I said, and we slid out of the bench seat and automatically started walking back towards the road behind the bar.

‘Can I get you a taxi?’ I asked her.

‘No, the town car is on its way. Do you need a lift somewhere?’

‘Thanks for the offer but I think your driver would have a panic attack if I told him my address. I’ll get a cab.’

‘Where
do
you live?’

‘I live in a terrace near one of the public housing towers in Redfern.’

Molly frowned at me and shook her head. I responded with a quizzical frown of my own.

‘How can you live in Sydney and
not
know the Redfern towers?’

‘I don’t really know anything about Redfern, I just know it’s a rough place,’ she admitted.

‘You’ll probably be pleased to know gentrification is well and truly underway, it’s not nearly as rough as it once was. Plus, it’s actually a great place to live,’ I said. Molly nodded and smiled, but I could see that she wasn’t convinced. I was about to launch into a spiel about the suburb I loved, but she distracted me by pointing into the distance behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a taxi approaching, but I shook my head. ‘I’ll wait with you until your car comes.’

‘I don’t need a babysitter.’

‘I don’t mind. Frankly, I could do with some back-up in case your father is waiting in hiding in my cab.’

She grinned at me. ‘I have a feeling you can handle yourself, Leo. Take it, I’ll be insulted if you don’t.’

I hesitated, but Molly stepped in front of me and waved vigorously, calling the cab to a stop beside us. ‘Text me when you get home safely?’ I asked. It seemed wrong to leave her standing alone by the side of the road at night, even though we were in a busy and perfectly safe part of the city.

‘God, listen to you,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I agree to have dinner with you and suddenly you’re my bodyguard.’

As I opened the cab door, I swept my gaze over her. Molly slowly reached up to smooth her fringe down over her forehead, trailing a finger behind her ear and down her neck, then she rested her hand against her shoulder as stared back at me intently. Whatever the chemistry was, it was alive and humming between us, and there was no doubt in my mind now that she was as conscious of it as I was.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I said.

‘Oh, you will,’ she assured me quietly, and then she closed the taxi door.

I
t’s
a twenty-hour flight from Rome to Sydney, including the brief stop at Singapore where the plane is refuelled. Leo is in a hospital bed that has been fitted into the jet, and he sleeps on and off, around meals and brief chats and long stints reading the newspapers that someone thought to load onto the plane for us. When we’re finally coming into Sydney and I look out my window to see the Harbour Bridge below us, I find myself unexpectedly teary as I breathe the sigh of relief that I’ve been holding onto since I flew out.

Several more hours pass before Leo is admitted and settled in the hotel-like room that will be his home for the foreseeable future. The rehab centre is plush, and he’s treated like a celebrity from the moment we enter the front doors. I know he’ll be comfortable there – and most importantly, at least for a while, he’ll be safe. This is not something I have
ever
been able to take for granted with Leo.

My phone has been ringing off the hook since we landed – his friends and family are dying to come and see him, but with the exception of his parents, I’ve asked them to wait until he’s had a chance to settle in. And then, once a nurse has finished Leo’s induction, we’re left alone for the first time in a day. Leo flicks through the paperwork they’ve given him while I sit at the end of his bed and stare out of the large window at the beautifully landscaped gardens that surround the rehabilitation centre.

‘What do you think?’ he asks. I drag my eyes back to him from the window and smile.

‘It’s great, as long as you’re happy with it.’

‘I can’t believe you organised this so quickly.’

‘I told you,’ I smile weakly. ‘Money talks. There have to be some benefits to marrying a trust-fund kid.’

He smiles wryly. ‘I’m sure this isn’t the only one. What are your plans? Home for a very long sleep in your own––’ he catches himself, ‘in
our
bed?’

I
am
going home to our bed – not to mine. I have organised for the terrace to be aired out, and I’m going to sleep there, at least tonight. I have absolutely no idea why.

‘Unless you need anything else?’

‘New legs?’

‘Your legs are fine,’ I remind him. ‘It’s your brain that’s wonky, and soon that’ll be fine too.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘If your memory was intact, you’d know that I’m not often wrong.’ Leo laughs at me, and I slide off the end of his bed and stretch. ‘Can I bring you anything tomorrow?’

‘I was hoping you might bring me a few things. I’m guessing I would have had a sat phone with me in Syria and that’s probably lost?’

‘I’d say so. Brad was travelling with you, but I doubt he went back for your gear.’

‘He was with me?’ Leo visibly brightens at this news, and not for the first time I am irrationally jealous of the great love he has for his work. ‘Do you think he’ll visit me soon?’

‘He’s already texted me this afternoon to ask when he can visit, and so has half of the
News Monthly
team and the guys at the gym. Your parents will come sometime this evening, but I’ve told the rest of them they have to come over the next few days. I hope that’s okay?’

‘Thanks, Molly. That’s great. So – do I have another phone? A mobile?’

I hesitate before I nod, because God only knows what’s on his phone. There will definitely be a history of text messages between us – snarky ones at least, brutally nasty ones at worst.

‘You do. I’m not sure where you left it,’ I lie.

‘Unless my routine has changed it’ll be in the safe in my office. Do you know the code?’

‘I do. I’ll see if I can find it. And something to read? Your main Kindle is probably lost in Syria, but I’ll bring the spare.’

‘Kindle?’ he raises an eyebrow at me. ‘An E-reader? I don’t like to read electronically.’

‘That’s what you said when I bought you one for your birthday the first year we were together. Now you own two. It took you a while to come round to the idea of reading on a device but once you caught on, you
really
caught on.’

‘Really?’ He is a little sceptical, but I know he’ll change his mind about a chapter into his first book. ‘Right. Well, in that case, yes – the spare Kindle too, please. And some of my own clothes if it’s not too much trouble.’ He holds out his hand to me, and I automatically slide mine into it as if to shake hands. I’m surprised when he pulls me close, and then envelops me in a hug.

‘Thank you, Molly – for everything,’ he whispers into my hair. There’s such sincerity in his voice that I’m almost taken aback. It’s not that Leo is an ungrateful man… it’s just that he isn’t
the kind of man to wear his emotions on his sleeve. There’s a degree of vulnerability in the warmth in his tone, and a shaky edge to it, almost as if he’s overwhelmed – but surely not. Leo doesn’t do overwhelmed, particularly not when it comes to gratitude.

I return his hug, and it’s amazing to have his arms around me again. Greedily I absorb the moment – I want to stay here, just like this, to revel in the peacefulness between us. For a moment or two, I let myself wonder what it would be like if Leo never recovered any more of his lost years than he has, just so that I could keep him like this: warm, caring –
friendly
.

But I don’t let myself cling to that thought for more than a second. I gently pull out of the embrace, but brush a soft kiss against the scruffy beard on his cheek before I leave.

I
call
Brad Norse on my way home. I’ve been putting this call off, but there’s no more delaying it. I put the privacy screen up between the driver and my backseat, and dial with shaking fingers.

‘Molly! How’s Leo?’

Brad is the closest thing to a best friend that Leo has. They often travel together – Brad taking the photos, Leo writing the words. In the last few years we’ve all become fairly close – Brad’s wife Penny is one of the few people I know who understands what it’s like to have a husband work in such a dangerous job.

I haven’t spoken to Brad since the accident. I didn’t want to speak to him, because I figured he probably knew the truth about Leo and me, and I couldn’t bring myself to face his condemnation. I love Brad but he’s the kind of friend who would take sides, and I know which side he would take.

‘He’s doing really well, Brad – really well. He’s almost back to normal already – except he can’t move his legs and he’s altogether forgotten me,’ I laugh uneasily.

‘Yeah, Anne told me about all of that. How’s he coping?’

‘He’s doing great considering but the memory loss has complicated things.’

‘I’ll bet it has.’

‘I don’t know what he told you… before the accident, I mean. I know you’re close,’ I say awkwardly. Suddenly I realise I should have had this conversation with Brad in person so that I could watch his reaction.

Brad, unsurprisingly, is protective of Leo and is not going to make this easy on me. ‘About?’ he asks, a little tersely. I pick at imaginary fluff on my skirt while I try to figure out what to say. The silence stretches, and then Brad apparently softens. ‘It was pretty obvious that you two were going through a rough patch. Is that what you mean?’

‘Yeah,’ I whisper. Rough patch? Leo obviously has not told him.

‘You know Leo even better than I do, Molly. He’s not the sort of guy to sit around and talk about feelings. But yes, I knew things weren’t great because… well, there was that god-awful dinner party we had with you guys just before Quinn was born… plus he was as cranky as a bear with a sore head and crazy-distracted.’

‘Distracted?’ Great. Now the accident is my fault too.

‘Honestly, Molly, we should have pulled out of that embed the day after we got there – God, we should never have been given permission to go. Am I right in guessing you’d fought about him going? He seemed pretty determined to make it worthwhile even though we both knew it was just too dangerous. I thought he was maybe making a point of it.’

‘Of course I didn’t want him to go,’ I mutter. ‘And you shouldn’t have gone, either, Brad.’

‘That was always going to be my last crazy war-zone trip with him. Even more so once he got injured, I’m just…’ Brad sighed. ‘I am just done with trying to be a hero, you know? Anyway, sounds like Leo’s heroic days are over too.’

‘No,’ I say automatically. ‘They won’t be. Leo lives for that stuff. Anyway, he just has no idea we were in a rough patch. I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing but he has so much to catch up on, and I didn’t want to overwhelm him.’

‘Do they think his memory will return?’

‘He’s already remembered a few things. They’re pretty confident it will all come back in time.’

‘He’ll understand, Molly. He’ll probably appreciate you shielding him from it so he can concentrate on getting well. Is that why you called? You don’t want me to tell him?’

‘
Please
don’t. Not yet.’

‘Got it.’

‘You’ll go see Leo tomorrow?’

‘Yeah. Should I take him anything?’

‘Do you have any of his stuff?’

‘There wasn’t time to recover anything from the car but I did go back to the camp before I left, so I’ve got everything else.’

‘Great. And do you have any photos to show him?’

‘Do I have photos…?’ Brad feigns outrage. ‘Of course I have photos. I even have photos of your husband with his head cracked open if he wants to see them.’

‘Probably leave those at home for now.’

I wrap up the call as we arrive at the terrace. Tobias has been during the day to restock the fridge and air the place out, and he’s left the doggy door at the back of the house open – I can tell this last part before I even open the front door, because Lucien is already waiting on the other side. I can hear the rhythmic swish of his tail as it wags against the floorboards. When I open the door, there’s a ball of apricot fluff waiting for me. I drop to my knees and he leaps into my arms.

‘I missed you too!’ Leo always mocks me for talking to Lucien, but I’ve caught him doing it himself when he didn’t realise I was in earshot. Lucien tries to lick my face and I lean away. He is far too large to be a lap dog, but that’s never stopped him from trying, and if the warmth and weight of him is physically uncomfortable, emotionally it’s an overwhelming comfort. He has seen me shed more tears than any human has, and he always seems to know how to console me. He settles with his paws against my shoulder and rests his ear against my head. I wrap my arms around him and I sob.

I am overwhelmed with relief at the simple reality of being back in the terrace – in my home, which is no longer my home. And yet from the moment I knew we were leaving Rome, this was where I wanted to be. I try to tell myself it’s Lucien I wanted to be close to, and as he nuzzles himself into my neck, I can almost convince myself that’s true – almost.

I climb the stairs and fall into the bed fully clothed – Lucien at my side. I curl up around Leo’s pillows and I breathe in deeply, and think about my husband. I am trapped in this situation with him, at least for now, and I feel a bewildering sense of panic as I consider the possibilities for the next few weeks or, God forbid, even months.

I have so much going on in my own life; so much healing to do – so much planning to do. I don’t have the time nor the brain space to deal with scaffolding and guiding as Leo recovers… nor could I ever abandon him – not now, when he needs me. But can I handle the continuing walk down memory lane? I feel dread at the very thought of it – it’s too soon; things are too raw. I am still too angry with him and I am too vulnerable. And what if he never recovers?

That thought is like cold water dumped onto my self-pity. I take a few deep breaths. My situation is crappy, but his is infinitely worse. It’s uncomfortable and scary, but being here for Leo during this time is the least I can do.