Page 43 of His Best Mistake

His voice was flat and his eyes were devoid of warmth, or anything really, and Stella went a bit cold, those heady dreams disappearing like dandelion puffs on the wind. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean your home.”

What? She blinked in confusion because surely he couldn’t mean that. Why would he? “Somerset?” she said, just in case she’d somehow got it wrong.

He nodded. “The doctor said you’re out of the danger zone now and so you don’t need constant monitoring.”

Well, no, she didn’t. She never had. But now, she wanted it. She wanted him to care and look after her the way she wanted to care and look after him. When he, judging by the absence of emotion on his face, and the hard line of his jaw, obviously wanted the exact opposite.

Which meant she’d got it wrong. She wouldn’t be adding any feminine touches to his flat. She wouldn’t be decorating any nursery. Not there, anyway, because for some reason he didn’t want her any more.

As the realisation that despite everything, despite all she’d done, another relationship was imploding, Stella’s head began to swim. She couldn’t think. She could hardly breathe. Her throat was as dry as the desert. A shaky, “Right,” was all she could manage.

“I realise now how hugely selfish I’ve been about it all,” he continued, “demanding you move in like I owned you or something. You’ve uprooted your life for me and that hasn’t been fair. But it isn’t too late to rectify that.”

No. What wasn’t fair was what he was doing now, she wanted to say, but couldn’t get the words past the sudden lump in her throat, because, oh God, what really wasn’t fair was that while she’d been busy discovering she was falling in love with him he’d been trying to figure out a way to get rid of her and it was history repeating itself all over again, which meant that contrary to what she’d assumed, she hadn’t learned a thing.

“You seem to be fine,” he said. “The doctors are happy that it’s unlikely to happen again. There’s nothing to stop you from going home. I certainly won’t. In fact, you should go home. You can keep me updated with scans,” he said. “Email is fine.”

Email wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “And after?” she managed, her throat tight.

“After what?” he said, genuinely sounding as if he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about and, stunned, Stella stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Who was this? she wondered, her heart twisting. Where was the man who’d made her laugh, the man who’d showered her with attention, the man she’d fallen for? It was like he’d been kidnapped and replaced by someone cold and distant, a man she didn’t recognise at all, and it chilled her to the bone to see this side of him, the side that seemed to have absolutely no regard for what she’d just been through.

“After the baby’s born,” she said, unable to believe it needed clarification, unable to believe any of this was happening.

“We can come to some arrangement.”

“Some arrangement,” she echoed.

“It’s not an uncommon scenario,” he said with a shrug that suddenly made her want to hit him. “You were right when you said that parents shouldn’t stay together just for the sake of the child. Absolutely right. It’s for the best. Anyway, I should go,” he added, glancing at his watch and heading for the door. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

But when Jack turned up the next morning ready to take her home, Stella had already gone.

*

Jack was more annoyed that Stella had taken herself off back home than he’d have thought possible. He ought to have been delighted that she’d relieved him of the hassle of a long, awkward drive and potentially uncomfortable conversation.

But was he? No. It had been five days since she’d simply walked out of that hospital, and it still pissed him off hugely. It wouldn’t have been a hassle to take her. It probably wouldn’t have even been all that awkward since she hadn’t exactly put up much of a protest about his very sensible suggestions. Conversation would have been fine, and seeing she got home safely would have been the right thing to do.

Nevertheless, the point was, however she’d exited his life, he should have felt relief. Overwhelming, blessed relief. As he’d intended, the threat to his emotional well-being was no more. The risk of vulnerability and exposure to pain was zero, and he’d achieved both with very little conflict. He ought to be congratulating himself on a disaster well avoided. He ought to be celebrating.

So why wasn’t he? Why did he somehow feel cheated that Stella had apparently discharged herself and had caught a taxi to the station? Why did he feel like nothing was quite right any more? And why did her responses to his texts feel so inadequate? They provided the limited information he needed to know – that she and the baby were all right – so they were more than satisfactory.

Yet ever since he’d arrived back, he’d been walking around like a wet weekend. His offices, usually filled with lively banter and buzzing with energy, were unnaturally silent and calm. On Monday morning he’d bitten the head off one of his traders for getting a market call wrong, and since then his team were now wary of him, if not downright afraid. And he hated that. That wasn’t him. He didn’t want that to be him. The thought that it might be getting worse horrified him.

r /> It was like he was coming down with something, he thought, running a finger around the inside of his collar as he paced the floor of his office in the hope it might alleviate his restlessness. He felt hot and on edge, as if a million needles were stabbing at him from the inside. He couldn’t concentrate. Every time he spoke, his words came out as a sort of growl and he didn’t bother much with food as oddly it didn’t taste of anything these days, although he’d been getting through the whisky well enough.

He couldn’t stand to be home either. His apartment, which had never felt particularly empty, felt like a vast icy vacuum. Stella had only occupied it for a few weeks, but now every time he turned round he expected her to be there. The searing disappointment that came with the realisation she wasn’t was bizarre. Every space held a memory and it drove him insane. The morning he’d found himself going into her room, inhaling deeply the lingering trace of her scent and feeling something tighten his chest, he’d decided to temporarily move into his office. It didn’t matter that the sofa wasn’t particularly comfortable for a man of his size; he barely slept anyway.

But the relocation didn’t help at all. To his intense frustration, he couldn’t get Stella out of his head. Regardless of where he might be she was in there all the damn time and he had no relief. His memory, which constantly recalled little things she’d said and done and the way she’d sometimes looked at him was just too bloody good. His imagination, having a high old time casting her in scorchingly hot starring roles in his dreams, drove him mad. And the look on her face the last time he’d seen her, the hurt in her eyes when he’d told her he basically didn’t want her any more, tormented him night and day.

How could he have done that? Given everything she’d told him, everything he knew about her, how could he have pushed her away like that? He’d been so cruel. So bloody self-absorbed. It wasn’t even the truth. He did want her. It was just… Well, it was just…

And suddenly Jack couldn’t take it any more. He was too tired from a lack of sleep, too weak from a lack of food, and too battered by, well, everything. The effort of denying how he felt about Stella was impossible to maintain now, and as he walked over to his desk and sank into his chair, something inside him suddenly crumbled.

God, he missed her, he thought, burying his head in his hands as his defences shattered and it all came tumbling out. He missed her smile, her laugh, her conversation. And he missed how he felt with her, as if somehow, for the first time in four long, lonely years, everything was going to be all right. Stella had aroused so many things in him – desire, frustration, the need to protect to name but a few – but all he could think now was that the last week they’d spent together he’d been happy, truly happy. He’d had a glimpse of what his future could be, and like an idiot he’d thrown it away.

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