Chapter 25
CHAPTER
25
Adelaide missed her morning walks along the beach, missed the briny sea air that seemed unique to Tally Bay. It had been strange at first, trading the dry country air for the ocean, but she’d soon grown to love it.
She’d changed a lot of things when she’d first moved away from Ashe Ridge. She’d stopped drinking coffee, swapping to fruit-filled smoothies. She enjoyed the occasional BLT or steak but became predominantly vegetarian. And after several years, she stopped thinking of herself as married and went on the occasional date.
None of them went beyond a kiss goodnight until a decade after she’d been in Tally Bay, when she finally let Raven into her bed. She’d done it out of loneliness rather than any grand passion and their lovemaking was comfortable rather than spectacular.
That’s one thing she never understood about Jack. They’d been dynamite between the sheets, rattling the headboard regularly. And while the sex had been amazing, she cherished those moments afterwards, when he’d hold her close and they’d share a laugh or a chat or say nothing at all, content to just be together.
When he stopped wanting sex, she blamed herself. Did Jack not find her attractive anymore? Had he grown tired of her?
She’d tried asking him about it once, the first time they’d gone weeks without making love, and he’d shut her down, citing fatigue and stress. So she’d waited, and when it hit the two-month mark since they’d last been intimate, she initiated it. She’d showered, shaved, moisturised, even ordered some new lingerie online. He’d taken one look at her, removed her hand from his hip, grunted, and rolled away from her.
She’d never tried again.
Instead, she bottled up her resentment and started second-guessing herself to the point she became miserable. They both had, coexisting in polite exchanges and silence behind closed doors. They’d faked it for the grandkids, of course, because poor Will and Mila had been through enough, having their parents virtually dump them before leaving without a backward glance.
While she never blamed them, Will and Mila were the only reason Adelaide stuck around so long. They gave her life purpose, and she didn’t regret her part in raising them. But the day after Mila’s final exam was when she knew it was time.
Time for her. Time to start fresh. Time to start living again.
The irony that Will had fled town a year earlier a day after his final exam hadn’t been lost on Mila, who’d said at least one of them would stick around for Jack. But Adelaide had given up enough of her life for Jack and couldn’t stand another day of existing rather than living.
Lost in her musings, she stubbed her toe on a tree root and pitched forward, managing to slam her palms against the trunk to break her fall. It took a second for the pain to register and she let out a loud yell as she glanced at her shredded palms. The sight of blood didn’t bother her as much as the stinging and she bit her lip to stop from dropping a few expletives.
She heard a twig snap behind her and turned to find Jack eyeing her with concern.
‘I was taking a walk and heard you yell. Are you okay?’
‘Apart from these, you mean?’ She held up her palms and he winced.
‘Those need some antiseptic.’
She swallowed her first response, ‘Well done, Mr Obvious’ . Pain always made her snarky, as he well knew. ‘I don’t have any.’
‘I do. Come on.’
It was a short stroll back to the main cottage and her man of few words didn’t say anything. No great surprise.
As they entered the kitchen, the smell of baking—something savoury, with tomato, basil, and onion—made her stomach rumble. Embarrassed, she pressed a hand to it, only to realise she’d left a bloody handprint on her favourite white top.
‘The first aid kit is in the bathroom,’ he said, and she followed him, casting a surreptitious glance at the oven, to see a quiche with a cheesy top bubbling nicely.
If her morning stumble hadn’t put her in a bad mood, the delicious aromas that were evidence of Jack’s cooking would have. She shouldn’t be annoyed, because she’d changed over the last fourteen years too, but she couldn’t help it.
Where was this man who cooked when she’d been married to him?
‘If you’re hungry, I’ve made a quiche and it should be ready soon.’
Great. He’d heard her traitorous stomach. She could be a stick in the mud and refuse, but she’d only be hurting herself, considering she’d planned on having a piece of toast after her walk.
‘That’d be great. Thanks.’
She followed him down a small hallway to the bathroom, yet another room he’d modelled on what she’d once wanted. Large pale
grey tiles, standalone bath, a shower big enough for two, circular vanity, and black fittings. Modern. Classy. Gorgeous.
She gritted her teeth against the urge to ask him why he’d done this. Had he thought she’d return one day, and wanted to torture her? To show her what she’d been missing out on? To punish her?
But she needed Jack onside for their divorce to proceed smoothly and antagonising him would only result in more hurt than it was worth.
‘You should rinse your hands before I apply the antiseptic,’ he said, turning on the taps and testing the water temperature before giving her a nod. ‘Though it’ll probably sting like hell.’
Adelaide didn’t respond, because it took all her willpower not to cry when she slipped her hands under the water and her palms burned like the devil.
‘That should do,’ Jack said, turning off the taps and gathering her hands in a soft towel.
She didn’t know what was worse, the stinging of her palms or the stinging in her eyes, as he gently patted her hands dry, his tenderness almost undoing her.
‘This is going to hurt,’ he murmured, as he poured antiseptic onto some cotton wool, and dabbed it on the cuts on her palm before blowing on them.
She blinked rapidly to stave off tears, overwhelmed by his solicitousness, and when he clasped her hands in his once he’d finished, his touch lingering, she wanted to bawl.
‘There. All better,’ he said, clearing the gruffness from his throat. ‘Probably best to leave them open for a while rather than bandage them.’
She managed a ‘Yeah, thanks,’ as she followed him back to the kitchen, wishing it wasn’t too early for a drink. A strong manhattan would go down very well right about now. Not that she drank
often, but for the first few years after she’d left, she had a drink or two every night to take the edge off her restlessness.
She’d second-guessed herself a lot in those early days—had she done the right thing, had she been selfish, had she given up too easily—but once she started meditation and learned to release her residual tension, she never looked back. No good could come of regrets.
‘I’ll dish up the quiche. Orange juice okay?’
‘Perfect,’ she said, content to watch him bustle around the kitchen, a man comfortable in his own skin.
He poured the OJ, then slid his hands into mitts before getting the quiche out of the oven, cutting it into wedges and placing two on plates. There was something riveting in watching him take control in a way he never had. Jack had always deferred to her in all aspects of their life bar the farm. He’d been so consumed by his work that he didn’t seem to care about anything else.
It made her curious. What else had changed about this man she once thought she knew better than herself?
‘Tell me what you’ve been up to,’ she blurted, sounding nosy but not caring. For some unfathomable reason, she wanted to know everything.
‘For the last fourteen years, you mean?’
His droll response held no malice and as he placed a plate and glass in front of her, she glimpsed amusement in his eyes.
‘Yeah.’ She pointed at the delicious smelling quiche in front of her. ‘I’m guessing your newfound culinary expertise isn’t the only thing that’s changed over the years.’
He sat opposite and took his time answering—sipping at his juice, rearranging his cutlery. ‘I guess the biggest change is that I’m not wound so tight anymore. I don’t sweat the small stuff. I take time out to do things I enjoy, like gardening and popping into the
Men’s Shed in town weekly.’ He shrugged, bashful. ‘You leaving gave me a wake-up call I needed. So I guess I should thank you for that, even though I didn’t see it that way at the time.’
She didn’t know whether to be affronted or flattered. ‘I’m glad you’ve found peace.’
‘What about you? What’s your life like?’
She had nothing to hide but revealing her new life to the man who’d been the centrepiece of her old left her feeling oddly vulnerable.
‘Tally Bay is like Byron, only more chill, less touristy. I have a small studio I rent from a rich couple who are never around, that’s cluttered and artsy. I paint and earn money from what I sell and subsidise my income by working part time in a juice bar.’
His eyebrows rose and she laughed. ‘Yeah, I work alongside hip young things who think they invented blending ginger and turmeric with fruit for health benefits.’
His cautious smile made her think it would be okay to push for the real answer she wanted.
‘What about significant others, Jack? Is there anyone in town I should be worried about who may get jealous and stab me in my sleep while I’m staying here?’
His smile faded, replaced with a frown. ‘I’ve dated over the years, if that’s what you’re asking. But no one in town. Can’t stand the gossip.’ He managed a rueful chuckle. ‘Not from a lack of trying by the local women, mind you. Turns out, being abandoned by your wife makes you appear very attractive to the ladies.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I reckon I put on twenty kilos the year after you left because they kept dropping off casseroles, pasta bakes, jelly slices, and cakes.’
Not an extra ounce of weight graced Jack’s body; Adelaide should know, she’d been checking him out. It wasn’t fair that he
still looked as trim as ever, while she carried an extra ten kilos. Then again, she viewed that weight as an indication of a good life. She didn’t have to please anyone but herself these days and ate whatever she wanted when she wanted.
‘What about you?’
She knew asking Jack about his dating life would mean she’d have to reveal hers and she hoped it wouldn’t make things awkward between them. She wasn’t finalising their divorce because of Raven, but the closure wouldn’t hurt.
‘I’ve enjoyed being single over the years, but there’s a man who’s been persistent and we catch up when the mood strikes.’
Jack was many things, an idiot wasn’t one of them, so his glower meant he’d read between the lines and knew what she was saying: Raven was a friend with benefits.
‘Do you love him?’
Hell no. She’d given her heart to only one man in her lifetime and having it shattered meant she’d been more circumspect since.
‘This quiche is getting cold,’ she said, picking up her knife and fork, wincing as the stainless steel came into contact with her cuts, and hacking off a giant chunk and stuffing it into her mouth.
Thankfully, Jack didn’t push the issue, but she felt his glare on her as she devoured the quiche, amazed by how good it was.
‘You should enter this in the Ashe Ridge Show,’ she said, after she’d finished every last crumb. ‘You can bake, my man.’
She’d meant it as a flippant comment, but as their gazes locked across the table, his quizzical, hers confused, she wondered why it felt so good to claim Jack as hers, even in jest.