Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

T amara had no idea how she made it Ambrosia , no recollection of the walk, as she unlocked and relocked the door before collapsing onto the nearest chair.

She stared blindly around the room, the place that had become a safe haven for her. The pale lemon walls, the honey oak floorboards, the open fire place along one wall, the glittering bar along the other; she’d spent every Monday here for the last six months, drinking hot chocolate, honing her work skills, putting her life back together.

A life now laid bare for the public to scrutinise and judge.

It had been hard enough discovering Sonja’s existence, evidence that not only had Richard been cheating on her, he’d done it in a house bought and paid for by him while he’d imposed ridiculously tight budgets on her.

She’d been humiliated by the discovery of the other woman, had told no one, and now, her degradation would be seen by everyone, her hopes for a new start dashed.

She fisted her hands and pushed them into her eyes in the vain hope to rub away the haunting image of that cherubic baby in the newspaper.

That should’ve been her baby, the baby she’d wanted but Richard had always vetoed, the baby he’d been too busy to have, the baby that would’ve given her the complete family she always wanted.

She’d pushed for a child, had been placated with his lousy excuses, and now she’d come face to face with yet more evidence of how much her husband hadn’t loved her, how little he thought of her.

Damn him for having the power to annihilate the self confidence she’d so carefully rebuilt. She’d handled his infidelity, but this…

Deep sobs racked her body as she bundled the paper into a ball and flung it across the room with an anguished scream.

“What the—”

Ethan dropped his briefcase near the backdoor where he’d entered and ran for the main restaurant where he’d heard the most gut-wrenching cry. He burst through the swinging doors, his heart leaping to his mouth at the sight that greeted him.

Tam, slumped on a chair, her head buried in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably, her shoulders heaving.

“Tam?” He raced across the room, pulled up a chair next to her, and reached out to touch her. “Sweetheart, it’s me.”

Her head snapped up and the raw pain radiating from her red-rimmed eyes slammed into him like a cast iron skillet. He opened his arms to her, wanting to comfort her, desperate to slay whatever demon had driven her to this.

She shook her head, hiccuped. “He had a baby.”

Who had a baby? She wasn’t making sense.

With tears coursing down her cheeks, she jerked her thumb towards the floor, where he spied a balled up newspaper.

He reached it in two strides, picked it up and smoothed it on the bar, the photo painting a shocking scenario before he speed-read the accompanying article.

Hell no.

White hot rage slammed through him, quickly turning into blinding fury as he bunched the newspaper in his fist, searched Tam’s face, seeing the truth in every devastated line.

That bastard.

That lowlife, lying, cheating, no good, son of a bitch.

He sucked in a deep breath. He needed to support Tam, not fuel his anger. An anger that continued to bubble and stew and threaten to spill over as he watched her swipe her eyes, her hand shaky, her lower lip trembling.

He’d never seen her so bleak, even when she’d lost Richard—the jerk he’d like to personally kill at this moment if he wasn’t already dead.

“That baby should’ve been mine,” she whispered.

He froze. Surely she didn’t mean that? After what he’d just learned about Richard, about their marriage, how could she have wanted a child by that monster?

“I wanted one, you know.” She scrambled in her bag for a tissue, her fingers fumbling before she found one and used it to blow her nose. “More than one. I hated being an only child.”

What could he say? That he thought she was crazy for wanting kids with Richard? That now, a year after his death, she shouldn’t be reacting this way to proof the guy was scum?

Then it hit him.

What he’d been trying to ignore all along.

She still loved Richard.

Ethan had kept his distance all these years, had only made a move now because he thought she was over him. But she wasn’t, and despite everything Richard had done, clearly stated in that paper for the world to see, she wasn’t over the prick.

His hands balled into fists, frustration making him want to pound the table. It was the reason why he hadn’t pushed things with her at the start, this fear she still had feelings for Richard, the fear he’d never be more than rebound guy no matter how long he waited.

He’d put it down to his insecurities, had ignored the twinge of doubt, had taken a chance by letting his iron-clad control slip for the first time ever.

He’d made a monumental mistake, as feared. Losing control, allowing emotions to rule, only led to one thing: disaster.

“I don’t believe this.”

Her red-rimmed eyes sought his, her expression somber. But she didn’t reach out to him and he wanted her to.

Damn it, he wanted her to need him, to want him, to love him.

As much as he loved her.

The realisation sent him striding from the table to behind the bar, desperate to put something concrete and solid between them.

He’d made an idiot of himself without adding an inopportune declaration to the mix.

She didn’t need his love. How could she, when she was pining for Richard?

She wished Richard’s girlfriend’s baby was hers.

He couldn’t compete with that. He couldn’t compete with the memory of a dead guy. He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He switched on the espresso machine, needing to keep busy, needing to obliterate the driving need to vault the bar and bundle her in his arms. “Coffee? Or the usual?”

She stilled before his eyes, her hands steadying as she pushed her chair back, her legs firm as she stood and crossed the restaurant to lean on the bar.

Confusion clouded her eyes. “I thought you’d be more understanding about this?”

“I understand a lot more than you think.”

Silently cursing his hasty response, he turned away and busied himself with getting cups ready.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he swivelled to face her, trying not to slam the cups onto the bar.

“I’ve never seen you this upset, even after he died.” He had time to swallow his words, clamp down on the urge to blurt exactly what he was thinking. But nothing would be the same after this so why not tell her the truth? Go for broke? “Yet here you are, wishing that child was yours?”

He shook his head and poured milk into a stainless steel jug for frothing to avoid looking at her shattered expression. “I don’t get it. I’ve just learned a friend I thought I knew had a mistress and a kid with her, and I hate him for it. Yet here you are, still affected by him. Makes me wonder why.”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced up, the emerald fire in her eyes surprising him. She’d gone from quivering victim to furious in a second.

“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you think? You seem to have it all figured out.”

He didn’t deserve her anger, Richard did, and, having her turn on him when she should be turning to him lit a fuse to his smouldering discontent.

“Fine. You want to know what I think?” His palms slammed onto the bar as he leaned towards her. “I think Richard has left a lasting legacy. I think you’re so hung up on the guy you can’t get past him, maybe you never will. And I think as long as you let your past rule you this way, you won’t have the future you deserve.”

Derision curled her upper lip, her eyes blazing, but not before he’d seen the pain as he scored a direct hit.

“What future is that? With you?”

She made it sound like she’d rather change that baby’s diapers than be with him and he turned away, anguish stabbing him.

He had his answer.

She’d confirmed every doubt he’d ever had.

He’d never live up to King Richard in her heart.

“This place has been a safe haven for me lately. Not anymore.” Her heels clacked against the floorboards as she marched to the table, scooped up her bag and headed for the door.

He watched her in the mirror, his heart fracturing, splintering, with every step she took.

He could’ve called out, stopped her, run after her.

Instead, he watched the woman he loved walk out the door.