Page 34 of His Best Mistake

“I started at school,” he said, not missing her proximity in the slightest. “One Easter I went on holiday to France. I came back with some Euros, and started trading them with other kids about to go on holiday. I made money and liked it. When I left school at eighteen I went straight to work at one of the leading London forex houses, then moved to others. I did stints in Paris and Frankfurt and a year in New York. I’ve been running my own business for the last five years.”

“Didn’t you go to university?”

“I didn’t see the point. I wanted action and I wanted it fast.”

“I didn’t see the point either,” said Stella. “All I ever wanted to do was draw. What do you do to switch off?”

Jack frowned. “I don’t have time to switch off.”

“Not even now?”

“What’s different about now?”

“Well, today’s been great,” she said with a smile, “but how are we going to get to know each other if you’re always at work?”

Right. Those fourteen-hour days of his. Hmm. Fairly incompatible with spending time with someone. A good excuse to avoid her? Perhaps. But he had agreed to this, hadn’t he? And she had uprooted her life to accommodate him. Surely he owed her more than just a cutting back of his hours. He could walk the fine line between revealing just enough and too much, no problem. And he did own the company. “I’ll take some time off.”

Chapter Nine

Three days later, getting dressed to go out, Stella was ready to climb the walls. She didn’t think she’d ever been so frustrated in her life. To think she’d been so delighted that Jack had agreed to take some time off. To think she’d thought they were making progress. Of the last seventy-two hours, she and Jack had spent approximately thirty-six in each other’s company, and she still felt she knew as little about him as she had when she’d moved in.

Oh, he’d told her things. Many things. Such as his love of tomatoes and his loathing of mushrooms. His week-long suspension from school fifteen years ago. The name of every single pet he’d ever owned. The factual details of his life to date had been endless. Yet he hadn’t revealed how he felt about anything significant and he hadn’t mentioned his wife, even though she’d given him ample opportunity to share.

That he didn’t trust her with the big things, only the trivialities, stung. Especially when she was emoting left, right and centre in an effort to feel things more deeply and communicate better. It was almost as if the more open she tried to be the more he withdrew, as physically present yet emotionally absent as her parents.

But maybe that was her fault. Maybe she was going overboard with the whole sharing thing. Maybe he was finding it a bit full on. She had no gauge. She just didn’t know, and she was at a complete loss as to what to do next. Should she back off? That didn’t appeal since knowing her she’d take it too far and end up defaulting to her usual position of holding everything back, which had proved time after time not to work. Should she dare to confront him and ask him what was going on? Or should she give him more time? She simply didn’t have a clue.

But she’d have to make a decision soon because things couldn’t continue as they were. The way he was blocking her out – whether consciously or unconsciously – wasn’t fair and it wasn’t doing much for her self-esteem either. He had no idea how hard it was for her keep going in the face of his withdrawal. How easy it would be for her to just scuttle back into her shell and hide. One last chance, thought Stella firmly as she put on her jacket and fluffed her hair. That was what she’d give him. One last chance to open up even just a little bit, and then she’d take a view.

Today she’d booked a scan. He’d said

he’d go with her. If that didn’t give him the opportunity to talk about his wife, with perhaps some very slight, very gentle probing, she didn’t know what would. The appointment was bound to be hard for him. Of that she had little doubt. All sorts of memories and emotions would surely shoot to the surface and who knew how they’d manifest themselves. But she’d be there to catch him. The question was: would he let her?

*

With the slam of Stella’s bedroom door echoing in his ears, Jack grabbed a bottle of whisky, poured himself a glass and downed it in two seconds flat. His head was spinning, his stomach was churning and he just couldn’t work out what was going on.

When Stella had told him she’d booked a scan, his initial reaction had been one of instant shutdown. Somehow he’d managed to forget she was pregnant. God knew how, when it was the sole reason she was in his apartment, digging around his life. He’d been too busy concentrating on treading that fine line between telling her things and revealing too much. However, he’d swiftly pulled himself together and agreed to go. Whatever else was simmering away beneath the surface, he needed to know that Stella and the baby were all right.

Nevertheless, he had not been looking forward to the appointment and this morning he’d woken up with the weight of the dread he felt practically crushing him to the bed. In the taxi to the clinic he’d been monosyllabic, bordering on silent, so preoccupied had he been with bracing himself for the deluge of grief, regret and guilt he’d expected along with a whole host of painful memories.

However, when they’d gone in for the appointment and he’d finally managed to look at the screen, the black and white image blurring before his eyes, the heartbeat of the baby fluttering at one hundred and sixty beats a minute, neither the deluge of emotion nor the memories had materialised. Instead he’d felt a weird kind of excitement and it had knocked him sideways. Horrified, panicked, he’d tried to conjure up Mia’s face, but he’d been unable to. He tried to locate the anger and the guilt, but that seemed to be bewilderingly absent too.

What did it mean? he’d spent the rest of the appointment wondering. He couldn’t work it out now any more than he’d been able to when they’d left and Stella had asked if he wanted to talk about anything, anything at all, and he’d been too confused, too unsettled to say anything other than an abrupt, final ‘no’.

Which hadn’t gone down well. Stella’s face had instantly set and she’d been stonily silent in the taxi on the way back. He wasn’t sure why. He’d have thought she’d be as glad as he was that the scan had been normal and she and the baby were fine.

He should probably leave her to deal with whatever was going on and just sit it out. For him, at least, that would be the safest course of action. Yet somehow that didn’t appeal. It reminded him of the time he’d left her in Scotland and hadn’t called her to apologise, and it seemed to smack of weakness.

Before he could change his mind, Jack put down his glass, strode across the room and hammered on Stella’s door.

“What?” she yelled from deep within.

“I’d like to come in.”

“It’s your flat.”

He opened the door. A suitcase was lying open on the bed and she was dashing round the room, throwing things into it. “Where are you going?” he said, watching her carefully and going strangely cold.

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