Текст книги "This Man Confessed"
Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 34 страниц)
‘It does matter.’ Ruth spits, pulling both of our attention away from each other and back to the knife wielding, psychotic bitch who has invaded our lives. ‘She knows nothing, does she?’
I hope she’s mistaken. I hope Jesse nods and explains that I know everything. The Manor, the drinking, now her… everything, But his head starts to shake, quadrupling my uncertainties.
‘She doesn’t know about our daughter?’ The room starts to spin, and Jesse’s goes to move. ‘Stay where you are!’ Ruth shouts, flicking the knife to him.
‘Ava…’ He desperately needs to get to me. I know I’m swaying on the spot as I try to let that information sink in. He has a daughter? My life is ending here and now. That tips the iceberg of shocks from this man. He’s trying to compensate for his lack of involvement in her life.
‘Yes, we were married and he left me when I was pregnant.’ she spits.
‘I was forced to marry you because you were pregnant. I didn’t want to and you knew it. We were seventeen years old, Lauren. We fooled around one time.’ His voice is broken and unsure, like he’s trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing.
‘Don’t blame your decision on your parents!’ She’s burning with fury again, her hand shaking uncontrollably. ‘
‘I was trying to right my wrongs. I was trying to make them happy.’
The room is still spinning wildly, while I try to piece together what I’m hearing. I can’t make any sense of it, especially now when I’m in such a hazardous situation. Through my confusion and alarm, I do, however, realise the importance of keeping myself safe. I need to get out of here. I start to back away, hoping her attention and anger will remain on Jesse as I quietly attempt my escape. I know this is going to end with her gunning for me, not Jesse. She wants to punish him, and she’s going to do that by making him live without me. She’s got it all worked out and so have I.
‘Don’t move!’ She screams, halting me dead in my tracks. ‘Don’t even THINK about trying to leave because this knife will be in him before you make it out the door.’ That threat foils my plan completely. ‘You’ve not even heard the best part, so it would be nice if you stick around to hear me out.’
‘Lauren,’ he grates in warning.
She laughs, a sly, delighted laugh. ‘What? You don’t want me to tell your young, pregnant wife that you killed our daughter?’
He’s moving fast now, nothing will stop him, and I know it’s because I’m swaying, set on free-falling to the ground. My world has just exploded, splintering into a million pieces along with my overloaded mind. But I register her moving too. I register the knife coursing towards me fast and with absolute intent. And I also register Jesse coming between me and the blade. He manages to break my fall before tackling Ruth to the floor and punching her straight in the face on an infuriated roar. She laughs. The psychotic bitch just laughs, goading him, pushing him on with her hysterical fit of amusement.
‘I didn’t kill our daughter!’ he punches her again, the sound of his fist colliding with her joyful face sending shockwaves through me.
‘You did. The moment she got in that car you sent her to her death.’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’ He’s straddling her, trying to control her flailing hands.
‘Carmichael should never have taken our daughter. You should’ve been watching her! I spent five years in a padded cell. I’ve spent twenty years wishing I’d never let you see her. You left me without you, then you killed the only piece of you that I had left! I’ll never let you replace her! No one else gets a piece of you!’
Jesse roars and with a last reinforced swing of his fist, he knocks her out cold. I’m scrambling into a sitting position, watching his whole body convulsing with exhaustion and anger. I heard and fully comprehended every single word that they just shouted at each other, and I’m shocked, but I’m more sad than anything else. Every tiny little piece of pure craziness I have endured since meeting this man has just been justified. All of his overprotectiveness, unreasonable worry, and neurotic behaviour have just been explained. He doesn’t think he deserves happiness, and he has been protecting me. But he’s been protecting me from himself and the darkness of his history. It wasn’t him in that car with Carmichael. It was his daughter. All of the people he has truly loved throughout his life have died tragically, and he thinks he is responsible for each and every one of them. My heart bleeds for this man.
‘Nothing will break us.’ I sob, trying to stand, but not making it past my knees. He thought this would but it won’t. I’m relieved. In fact, every little thing is making perfect sense to me now.
He heaves his tall body up from the floor and turns foggy green, tormented eyes on me. ‘I’m so so sorry.’ His chin is trembling as he starts to walk towards me.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I assure him. ‘Nothing matters,’ I hold my arms out to him, desperate for him to know that I accept him and his history, no matter how shocking and dark it might be. A sense of serenity travels between our bodies, like a silent, mutual understanding as I wait for him to get to me.
My impatience is growing. He’s taking too long, seeming to get slower and slower with each step he takes until he collapses to his knee on a strangled gasp and clenches his stomach on a hiss. My confused eyes search his face for some clue of what is wrong, but then he pulls his jacket back, revealing a blood soaked shirt and the knife submerged in his side.
‘NO!’ I scream, finding my feet and rushing to his side. My hand hovers over the handle of the knife, not knowing what to do. ‘Oh God! Jesse!’ He falls back, choking, his palm patting at his wound around the blade. ‘Oh God, no no no no no. please no!’
I collapse to my knees, all searing pain in my stomach and across my face being shifted straight to my chest. I’m struggling to breathe. I pull his head up onto my lap and madly stroke his face. His greens are getting heavy. ‘Don’t close your eyes, Jesse.’ I shout, frenzied. ‘Baby, keep your eyes open. Look at me.’
He drags them open, the effort clear. He’s panting, trying to get words out, but I shush him, resting my lips on his forehead, crying hysterically. ‘Ava…’
‘Shhh,’ I gain a second of rationality and start riffling through the inside pocket of his jacket, quickly locating his phone. It takes three scrambled attempts to key in the same number three times, and then I’m screaming down the phone, shouting instructions and begging the woman on the other end to hurry. She tries to calm me down, she tries to give me instructions, but I can’t hear her. I hang up, too distracted by Jesse’s paling face. He looks grey, his body is completely limp and his dry lips are parted, wheezing in shallow breaths. His laboured breathing doesn’t blank out the eerie silence surrounding us, though.
‘Jesse, open your eyes!’ I yell. ‘Don’t you dare leave me! I’ll be crazy mad if you leave me!’
‘I can’t…’ His body jerks as his eyes close.
‘Jesse!’
He opens again and his arm tries in vain to lift, but he gives up, letting it flop back down to the floor. I can’t stand the sound of him struggling to breathe, so I grab his phone and dial my mobile, hearing Angel start from a few feet away. I rock him, unable to control my sobbing. Every time my phone stops, I dial again, repeating over and over and over, the sound of his track dulling down the sound of his raspy wheezes. He’s staring blankly up at me. There’s nothing in his eyes. I search for anything, but there’s nothing.
‘Unbreakable.’ he murmurs, his eyes getting heavy until he loses the battle to keep them open.
‘Jesse, please. Open your eyes,’ I desperately try to part them. ‘OPEN!’ I scream the word at him, but I’m pleading to nothing.
I’m losing him.
And I know this because my own heart in slowing, too.
Chapter 33
I haven’t looked into those eyes for two weeks. It’s been the longest two weeks of my life. Any notions of desolation or misery that have come before this point in my life have been trampled all over by the feelings crippling me right now. I’m lost. I’m helpless. I’m missing the most important part of me. My only comfort has come from seeing his peaceful face and feeling his warm skin.
Four days ago, the doctor removed his breathing apparatus. I can see him better now, all bearded and pasty, but he refuses to wake up, even though he surprised them by breathing on his own, albeit shallow and strained. The blade sliced clean through his side, puncturing his stomach, and his lung collapsed during surgery, complicating matters. He has two perfect mars on his perfect torso now, the new one a neat slice, rather than the jagged mess that she made of him the last time. I’ve watched it be re-dressed daily and watched them drain the build-up of blood and nastiness from behind the wound. I’m used to it already, the imperfection a horrid reminder of the worse day of my life, but now another part of him to love.
I’ve not once left his bedside. I’ve showered in seconds when my mum physically put me in there, but each time I’ve made her swear to scream if he stirs. He hasn’t. I’ve been told each day by the same doctor and surgeon that it’s a waiting game. He’s strong and he’s healthy, so he has the best chance, but I can’t see an improvement since they left him to breathe on his own.
Not one hour passes without me begging him to wake up. Not a minute passes without me kissing him somewhere, hoping the feel of my lips on his skin will spark something. It hasn’t. Each day, my heart slows more, my eyes become sorer and my tummy is growing larger. Each time I take a split second to look down at myself, I’m reminded that my babies may never meet their father, and that is an injustice far too cruel to accept.
‘Wake up.’ I demand quietly, my tears beginning to roll again. ‘You stubborn man!’ I hear the door open and turn to see my mum through my hazy vision. ‘Why won’t he wake up, Mum?’
She’s at my side in a second, working around my refusal to move so she can hug me. ‘He’s healing, darling. He needs to heal.’
‘It’s been too long. I need him to wake up. I miss him.’ My shoulders start to shake and my head collapses onto the bed in hopelessness.
‘Oh, Ava.’ My mum is despairing, feeling helpless and useless, but I can’t make anyone else feel better when I’m in desolation myself. ‘Ava, darling, you need to eat.’ she says softly, encouraging me to lift from the bed. ‘Come on now.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ I insist defiantly.
‘I’m making a list of your disobediences, and I’ll be telling Jesse about each and every one of them when he comes round.’ she threatens, her own voice quivering as she presents me with a light boxed salad.
I know I’ll get nowhere refusing this, but the silly notion that eating will please him is the only reason I open the box with one hand and start picking at the cherry tomatoes.
‘Beatrice and Henry have just arrived, darling.’ Mum’s voice is wary, but I’m past the contempt I feel for Jesse’s parents. I have no room for any feelings, except grief. ‘Can they come in?’
I selfishly want to refuse. I want him all to myself, but I couldn’t prevent the papers from splashing the news of a stabbing all over London. News travels fast, even across Europe. They arrived two days after Jesse was admitted, his mum and sister emotional wrecks and his dad just silently looking on. I could detect the regret in his blank face, which is scarily similar to Jesse’s. I heard all of the explanations, but they didn’t really sink in. In the endless, quiet time I’ve had, just sitting here with nothing to do but cry and think, I’ve drawn my own conclusion. My conclusion is simple: Jesse’s own guilt for many tragic things that have happened in his life has pushed his parents away. They may have been a contributing factor, with their pushy ways and demands for his cooperation, but with common sense and knowing my challenging man and now everything else, too, I know his own stubbornness was what essentially caused this rift. By distancing himself from everyone who reminded him of his loses, he thought it would ease the guilt—the guilt he should never have felt in the first place. He didn’t give himself the chance to be surrounded by the people who love him and who could have helped him. He waited for me to do that. And that may have been too late because now he’s lying lifeless and nonresponsive and even though it kills me to think of my life without him in it—a life I might be facing now—I would prefer for him to be alive and well and not know him.
‘Ava?’ my mum’s voice and shoulder rub drags me back into the room which is too familiar to me.
‘Just for a few minutes.’ I agree, giving up on my salad and pushing it away. Mum doesn’t argue with me, nor does she try to negotiate more time for them. I’ve allowed them five minutes here and there, but I’ve not allowed it privately.
‘Okay, darling.’ She disappears from the room and a few moments later, Jesse’s mum, dad and sister quietly enter. I don’t acknowledge them. I keep my eyes on Jesse and my mouth firmly shut as they crowd the bed. His mum starts to weep, and I see Amalie in my peripheral vision comforting her. His dad definitely brushes at his face. Three sets of eyes, all green, all glazed, and all grief stricken, are staring at my lifeless husband.
‘How has he been?’ Henry asks, moving around the bed.
‘The same.’ I answer, reaching up to brush a stray blonde hair from his forehead, just in case it’s tickling him in his sleep.
‘And what about you, Ava? You need to be taking care of yourself.’ He’s speaking softly, but sternly.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Will you let us take you for something eat?’ he asks. ‘Not far, just down to the hospital restaurant.’
‘I’m not leaving him.’ I affirm, for the millionth time. Everyone has attempted and everyone has failed. ‘He might wake up, and I won’t be here.’
‘I understand.’ he soothes me. ‘Perhaps we can bring you something, then?’
He must have spotted the salad, but he’s trying anything, his concern genuine, but not wanted. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Ava, please.’ Amalie presses, but I ignore her plea and shake my head, digging my stubborn heels in. Jesse would force feed me, and I wish he could.
I hear a collective sigh, then the door opens and the night shift nurse enters, pulling the familiar trolley, loaded with a blood pressure machine, thermometer and endless other equipment to check his stats.
‘Good evening,’ she smiles warmly. ‘How is this fine specimen of a man today?’ She says the exact same thing every time she starts her shift.
‘He’s still asleep.’ I tell her, shifting only a little to give her access to Jesse’s arm.
‘Let’s see what’s going on.’ She takes his arm and loads his bicep with the material band before pressing a few buttons and triggering the automatic inflation of the device. Leaving it to do its job, she takes his temperature then checks the printout from his heart monitor and notes down all of her findings. ‘Just the same. You have a strong, determined man, sweetheart.’
‘I know.’ I agree, praying for his continued endurance. He’s no better, but he’s no worse either, and I have to hang on to that. It’s all I have. The nurse injects some medication into the driver on his arm before changing his catheter bag and drip, then collecting her things and leaving the room quietly.
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ Henry pipes up. ‘You have my number.’
I nod my acknowledgment and let them all attempt to rub some comfort into me, then watch as they take turns kissing Jesse, his mum going last and spilling tears on his face. ‘I love you, son.’ she murmurs, almost like she doesn’t want me to hear, like she thinks I’ll condemn her for having the cheek. I would never. Their anguish is enough of a reason to accept them. My mission is to restore Jesse’s life to what it should be. I’ll do anything, but I don’t know if he’ll be around to accept it and appreciate it.
More tears fall.
I look up and watch them filter out, passing Kate, Sam, Drew and John at the door. Civil hellos and goodbyes are exchanged, and I can’t help the tired sigh that slips from my mouth at the arrival of more people. I know they are all just worried about Jesse and me, but the effort to answer questions when I’m asked is energy I just don’t have.
‘You good, girl?’ John rumbles, and I nod, even though I’m clearly not, but it’s easier to let my head fall up and down rather than from side to side.
I look up and offer a small smile, noticing the bandage from his head has been removed. He beat himself up for days, but what could he do when Ruth Quinn’s lover, Casey, called him down under false pretences and caught him off guard, clouting him around the head with an iron bar as he exited the elevator?
‘I’m not staying.’ John continues. ‘I just wanted you to know that they both appeared in court today and both have been remanded.’
I should be pleased, but I can’t even find the strength to be that. I’ve answered endless questions that have been thrown at me by the police, and Steve has been a regular, keeping me up-to-date on their findings. It’s pretty simple. Ruth, or Lauren, is the psychotic, ex-wife of Jesse, and Casey is her pussy whipped lover, who did exactly what she asked in an attempt to please her. ‘Okay,’ I look up, registering four more sets of eyes, all sympathetic. I’m sick of seeing it. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have the ener…’ My voice trails off, my spare hand reaching up to dab at my sore eyes again.
‘Ava, go home, have a shower and get some sleep.’ Kate pulls a chair up next to mine and drapes her arm around my shaking shoulders. ‘We’ll stay. If he wakes, then I’ll call you immediately. I promise.’
I shake my head. I wish they would all give up. I’m going nowhere unless Jesse is with me.
‘Come on, Ava. I’ll take you.’ Drew volunteers, stepping forward.
‘There, see.’ Sam joins the persuasion party. ‘We’ll stay and Drew can take you home for a while.’
‘No!’ I shrug Kate off. ‘I’m not fucking leaving, so just stop it!’ I look straight to Jesse, waiting for my scorn, but nothing. ‘Wake up!’
‘Okay,’ Kate treads gently. ‘We’ll stop, but please eat, Ava.’
‘Kate,’ I sigh tiredly, trying my hardest not to lose my temper. ‘I’ve eaten some salad.’
‘Fine,’ She stands, clearly frustrated, and returns to the others. ‘I don’t know what else to do.’ She steps into Sam’s arms when he opens them. Drew looks at me sorrowfully, and I’m reminded that he must be having a tough time himself at the moment, dealing with a woman who used him to try and trap my husband. I’ve heard the odd word from Kate when she’s tried to distract me with conversation, but I don’t know the full story. I do know that Drew has committed himself to the situation, though. Not to Coral, just the baby, a commendable thing to do, given how she’s deceived him.
‘We’ll go,’ John prompts, turning to the others and virtually pushing them from the room. I’m grateful, just managing to be courteous enough to croak a goodbye before returning all of my attention to Jesse.
My head rests back down on the bed, and I fight the heaviness of my eyes for the longest time until my defiance fails me and they slowly close, sending me to a land where I’m refusing to do anything he asks me, just so he resorts to his touching tactics. And he’s touching me now, his big palm circling my messy, naturally dried hair, but in my dream I look perfect, not tired, pale and scruffy in my lounge pants and one of his worn t-shirts, the one that I told my mum to retrieve from the laundry basket and which I’ve not replaced in all the time I’ve been here.
I’m in a happy place, reliving every moment with this man, all of the laughter, passion and frustrations. Every word exchanged and every touch between us is on replay through my mind. Each second, each step we’ve taken together and each time our lips have met. I don’t miss a moment. His tall, lean body rising from his desk the first time I met him, his beauty growing with every pace he took towards me until his scent saturated me when he leaned in to kiss me. And his potent touch which sparked the most incredible feelings within me. It’s vivid, it’s clear and it’s blissful. From the moment I stepped into that office, I was destined to be with this man.
‘My beautiful girl is dreaming.’
I don’t recognise the voice, but they are his words, so I know it’s him. I want to answer him, take my opportunity to tell him so many things, yet my desperation still doesn’t help me find my voice. So I settle for the lingering echo of his words and his continued touch, which is now gently caressing my cheek.
A loud bleeping sound stuns me from my happy slumber and my head flies up hopefully, but I find his eyes are still closed and his hands are where I’ve held them—one in mine and the other draped lifelessly by his side. I’m disorientated and wincing at the screaming noise, which I soon realise is his drip, shouting that he’s out of fluids. Pulling myself up, I reach up to call the nurse, but jump when I hear a muffled moan. I don’t know why I jump, it’s low and quiet, not at all fright worthy, but my heart is racing, anyway. I watch his face closely, thinking that perhaps I’ve imagined it.
But then his eyes move under his lids and my heart rate increases further. I want to pinch myself to ensure that I’m not still asleep, and I think I actually do because I definitely feel a harsh little stab of pain, even through the numbness of my grief.
‘Jesse?’ I whisper, dropping his hand in favour of his shoulder so I can shake him a little, which I know I shouldn’t be doing. He moans again and his legs shift under the thin cotton sheet. He’s waking up. ‘Jesse?’ I should be calling the nurse, but I don’t. I should be shutting that machine up, but I don’t. I should be talking quietly, but I’m not. ‘Jesse!’ I shake a little more.
‘Too loud.’ he complains, his voice broken and dry, his eyes going from relaxed closed to clenched closed.
I reach over him and punch the button on the machine to shut it up. ‘Jesse?’
‘What?’ he grumbles irritably, lifting his hand to clench his head. Every fear and grief stricken emotion flows freely from my body and light engulfs me. Bright light. Hopeful light.
‘Open your eyes,’ I demand.
‘No, it fucking hurts.’
‘Oh God.’ My relief is incredible, almost painful, as it courses like lightening through my depleted body, bringing me back to life. ‘Try.’ I beg. I need to see his eyes.
He groans some more, and I can see him struggling to follow through on my unreasonable order. I don’t relent, doing the kind thing of telling him to stop. I need to see his eyes.
And there they are.
Not as green or addictive, but they have life in them and they are squinting, adjusting to the subtle glow of light in the room. ‘Fucking hell,’
I’ve never been so pleased to hear two words. It’s Jesse and it’s familiar. I stupidly dive on him, kissing his bearded face and only stop when he hisses in pain. ‘Sorry!’ I blurt, pushing myself away and causing him more discomfort.
‘Fucking hell, Ava.’ His face screws up, his eyes closing again.
‘Open your eyes!’
He does, and I’m beyond thrilled to see him scowling at me. ‘Then stop fucking inflicting pain on me, woman!’
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy. He looks terrible, but I’ll take him whichever way he comes. I don’t care. He can keep the overgrown facial hair. He can swear at me every second of every day. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ I’m sobbing again as overpowering relief takes hold and my cheeks fall into palms to conceal my wrecked face.
‘Baby, please don’t cry when there’s fuck all I can do about it.’ I hear his shifting body, followed by a string of bad language. ‘Fuck!’
‘Stop moving!’ I scorn him, wiping my sniffling face before pushing lightly on his shoulders.
He doesn’t argue with me. He relaxes back into his pillow on an exhausted sigh, then lifts his arm and focuses on the needle hanging out, before taking a confused glance around at all of the machinery surrounding him. I see understanding settle across his face and his head whips up, his eyes wide and frightened. ‘She hurt you.’ he blurts, struggling to sit up, hissing and wincing as he does. ‘The babies!’
‘We’re okay,’ I assure him, forcing him back down to the bed. It’s hard. His sudden realisation had injected some strength into him. ‘Jesse, we’re all okay. Lay down.’
‘You’re okay?’ His hand lifts and feels its way through thin air until he finds my face. ‘Please tell me you’re okay.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘And the babies?’
‘I’ve had two scans.’ I rest my hand over his and help him feel me. It relaxes him completely, my words assisting, too. His eyes close, making me want to prod him to open, but I let him rest them. ‘I should call the nurse.’
‘No, please. Let me wake up before they start poking me about.’ His hand slides from my cheek to the nape of my neck and he applies a light pressure, silently telling me to come closer.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ I protest, pulling against him, but his face strains and his strength increases. ‘Jesse.’
‘Contact. Do what you’re told.’ he snaps drowsily. Even now, when he’s clearly in tremendous pain, he’s impossible.
‘Are you in much pain?’ I ask, lowering myself gently to his side.
‘Agony.’
‘I need to get the nurse.’
‘Soon. I’m comfy.’
‘No you’re not.’ I almost laugh, working around his wound to gently rest against him. I’ll give him five minutes, then I’m getting the nurse, and there is nothing he can do to stop me—literally, for once.
‘I’m glad you’re still here,’ he murmurs, using more valuable energy to turn his face into mine and kiss me. ‘I’d have given up if I didn’t constantly hear your defiant voice.’
‘You could hear me?’
‘Yes, it was strange and fucking annoying when I couldn’t tell you off. Will you ever do what you’re told?’ There is no humour in his tone. It makes me smile.
‘No,’
‘Thought not,’ he sighs. ‘I have some explaining to do.’
Those few words make me tense. ‘No you don’t.’ I blurt, trying to pull away from him so I can get the nurse, but I’m going nowhere.
‘Fuck!’ he spits, ‘Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He’s still fighting against me, the stupid man, but I’m the one who relents, more concerned for him than he is for himself. ‘Just stay put and listen.’ he demands harshly. ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’ve told you about Rosie.’
Rosie. The name signifies unbearable heartache and years of self-torture. He should have confessed this long ago. It would have explained so many of his neurotic ways.
‘Lauren was the daughter of my mum and dad’s good friends.’ He begins, and I brace myself, realising that I’m about to get the whole story. Not just the bits that I’d like to hear about his daughter, but the parts about the psychotic woman who nearly robbed him from me. ‘I’m sure you can imagine the type—well-bred, rich and highly respected in the snotty community that we were forced to tolerate. We fooled around once and she ended up pregnant. We were seventeen, young and stupid. Can you imagine the scandal? I‘d really done it this time.’ He shifts, flinching and cursing some more.
‘Emergency meetings were called between Lauren’s family and my own, and her father demanded I marry her before word got out and ruined both of our families. Jake had not long died and I went along with it, hoping my compliance might build some bridges with my parents.’
I clench my eyes shut and hold on to him a little tighter, remembering our visit to my parents and his reaction to my mother implying that he’d married me because I was pregnant. ‘An arranged marriage?’ I ask.
‘Yes, but the joint effort of both families did an amazing job of convincing the community that we were hopelessly in love.’
‘She was.’ I whisper, knowing the direction in which this story is heading.
‘And I wasn’t.’ he confirms quietly. ‘I was married off and moved into her parents’ country estate within a month. Everyone was happy, except me.’ His fingers play idly with my hair, and he draws a painful breath before continuing. ‘Carmichael gave me an escape, and I finally plucked up the courage to call a halt on the whole diabolical farce, but when Rosie arrived, I was determined to be a dad. That little girl was the only person on the planet who loved me for me, no expectations or pressure, she just accepted me in her innocence. It didn’t matter that she was a baby.’
All of this is filling me with immense proudness, but this story doesn’t have a happily ever after. And it crushes me.
‘She was a real daddy’s girl.’ he says fondly. ‘I could do no wrong, and I knew I never would in her eyes. That was enough to make me evaluate the lifestyle I’d slipped into while Lauren was pregnant. Carmichael got the best solicitor involved to try and gain me full custody because he knew that she was my redeemer, but Lauren’s family dug up every dirty little secret, from Jake, to The Manor, to my brief lifestyle from when I left Lauren until Rosie was born. I didn’t have a hope.’
‘And you parents had moved to Spain by now?’ I ask.
He jerks on a hiss as he laughs quietly. ‘Yes, they escaped the shame I’d brought on the family.’
‘They abandoned you.’ I whisper.
‘They wanted me to go with them. Mum begged, but I couldn’t leave Rosie fulltime with that family. She’d be frowned upon as an illegitimate child, even though she had me. Not an option.’
‘So then what?’
‘Rosie was three and I made the worst mistake of my life.’ He pauses, and I know he’s munching on that bottom lip. ‘I slept with Sarah.’ he says quietly.
‘Sarah?’ I’m frowning heavily into his neck. How does Sarah play any part in this?
‘Carmichael and Sarah were together.’
‘They were?’ I’m scrambling with care from his hold now, but this time he lets me. He is chewing that lip and he’s holding his breath, too. ‘Sarah and Carmichael? But I thought he was a playboy.’
‘He was. With a girlfriend…’ he flinches as he inhales. ‘and a child.’
‘What?’ I’m sitting up fully now. ‘Go on.’ I push. This story isn’t taking the direction that I thought it would at all.
He takes another long, painful breath. I should tell him to stop and rest, but I don’t. ‘Carmichael walked in on me and Sarah. He hit the roof, got the girls and left.’
