CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘I’ve been thinking about the wedding,’ she said later that night, as he stacked their plates in the dishwasher.
He turned to face her, giving her his full attention. ‘Yes?’
She made a throaty sound of agreement. ‘I don’t want a big fuss. Why don’t we just elope?’
A frown pulled at his lips. ‘What about your family? You’re close to them. Won’t they want to be there?’
She glanced down, hoping he didn’t see the hurt in her eyes. The thought of getting married without Genevieve or her parents was awful, but Gen had been right: she couldn’t ask them to be a part of something that was so outside the bounds of the kind of marriage they’d want for her. They’d proudly come and watch her get married for love, but not for these reasons.
Though wasn’t this a little about love? Love for the child they’d made, love for the little girl who was their whole world? What wouldn’t they do, as parents, to secure Aurora’s future, to give her everything she deserved in life?
‘Imogen? Did something happen today?’
She glanced at him quickly, then away again. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You’re avoiding me.’
‘We just had dinner together.’
‘And you were somewhere else the whole time.’
Her stomach squished. He knew her so well; he always had. He could read her like a book.
She blinked quickly. ‘I told my sister today. It didn’t go well.’
He nodded slowly. ‘I see. And that’s important to you.’
‘She’s my sister,’ Imogen said, as though that explained it. ‘My twin sister. We have done everything together for as long as I can remember. She’s my biggest cheerleader, my best friend—as I am hers.’
‘And she doesn’t support the idea of this marriage.’
Imogen shook her head.
‘Okay.’ He didn’t sound deterred. ‘Then what would you like to do?’
‘I told you, elope.’
‘This doesn’t make you question what we’re doing?’
She shook her head. ‘It did. I have been questioning it all afternoon, but I keep coming back to the same conclusion. This is what’s right for us. That’s not up to anyone else to decide.’ She sighed softly. ‘What does it matter? This isn’t a normal marriage, we don’t need anything big. We’re just getting married for Aurora, right? So let’s elope and be done with it.’
He studied her for a long time, his eyes narrowing, his brow furrowing. ‘We can elope, cara . Whatever you want is fine by me.’
* * *
The next morning, he left as if going to the office, careful to act as though everything was normal. Instead of heading to the City, however, he had his driver take him to a little apartment in Putney. He pressed the doorbell, waited, and when Genevieve opened the door, he braced himself for this conversation.
He’d convinced Imogen this was the right thing to do, but he suspected it was going to be a lot harder winning her sister over. However, having seen the crestfallen look on Imogen’s face, the tightness around her eyes, he knew it wasn’t optional. Having her twin sister’s support really mattered to Imogen, and if he could fix it, then he would.
If not, they’d elope, just the three of them, but he knew that wasn’t what Imogen wanted. What she deserved. He was better not thinking about what she deserved, because the second he pulled at that thread, this whole preposterous house of cards fell over.
‘You.’ Genevieve’s voice was a growl.
‘Can we talk?’
It was obvious that she wanted to refuse, but at the same time, she loved her sister, and her invitation for him to come into the apartment was clearly motivated by that. ‘I’ve got an appointment, but I can spare five minutes. What do you want?’
‘To talk about the wedding.’
Genevieve made a scoffing noise. ‘You mean your idea of the century?’
‘With respect, your sister is an intelligent woman who’s made her own mind up about marrying me.’
‘Yeah, she also made her mind up about falling into bed with you three years ago, and again now, and neither of those were particularly strong decisions.’
‘You presume to know a lot about our relationship, given you’ve met me twice.’
‘I don’t need to know you to know what you’re capable of.’
He bristled. Her anger was grating but it was also gratifying. She was speaking to him as he believed he deserved to be spoken to. She viewed him as the worst of the worst and in this way, they were in agreement.
‘I’m not going to hurt her.’
She made a noise of disbelief. ‘Of course you are.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It’s what you do.’
He flinched. Had Imogen told her about his family?
‘You hurt her back then, and you’re going to hurt her again. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but you don’t have what it takes to be a decent human and take care of her.’
He flinched again. Every single one of his worst fears was in her words.
‘You’re not a decent human being.’
‘What happened between us in the past was regrettable—’
‘Regrettable? You almost killed her. Do you have any idea what it was like for her?’
He blanched. He knew he’d hurt her, but at the same time, she’d downplayed that. She’d told him she’d been fine, that she’d moved on. Or had he simply presumed that, because of the air she projected. She’d told him she hadn’t actually loved him.
‘If she hadn’t been pregnant, I have no idea what would have happened. You destroyed my beautiful, loving, free-spirited, kind sister once and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you do it again.’
‘Imogen is fine,’ he said again, because he needed to believe that was true. ‘She was fine—’
‘You didn’t just break her heart—you broke her soul, her spirit, her everything. You are a monster and I will always hate you.’
Just like Imogen had promised. Did a part of her still hate him?
‘She told me it wasn’t a big deal,’ he said, searching for something to grab hold of.
‘She lied. Probably to protect her pride or maybe even to protect you, because she’s just that much of a good-hearted fool, apparently.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s not a fool.’ But hadn’t she been the definition of that three years ago? She’d kept coming to him, wanting him, needing him, when he hadn’t deserved her. Anyone could have seen that, but Imogen had been his regardless.
He dropped his head forward, stars in his eyes as the full impact of his carelessness three years ago came home to roost.
‘We both know what she was back then,’ Genevieve ground out. ‘Imogen was innocent, totally inexperienced. And do you know why?’
‘No.’ He’d never bothered to ask. He hadn’t understood it, but she’d acted like it was no big deal, and he’d accepted that at face value. Because he hadn’t wanted to dig deeper? He hadn’t been willing to hear that it had been something she’d been saving?
‘She didn’t fool around in college like the rest of us. She went on a couple of dates, here and there, but she always kept a level head because she was waiting to meet “the one.”’
His skin paled beneath his tan.
‘The first night she met you, she came home on cloud nine. She was in love even then.’
‘That’s not true.’
Genevieve rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re going to marry her, you need to know the full story. You think she’s strong and brave? Well, she is, but not where you’re concerned. You have to be strong and brave for her, and save her from making the same mistake all over again.’
Hadn’t he been trying to do that? He’d been honest with her all along, making sure she understood his boundaries this time. Hell, he’d even explained why he was this way.
But hadn’t he also been selfish? If he really cared about protecting her, he wouldn’t be sleeping with her every chance he got. He’d be working out a way to co-parent that was respectful, amicable, and had zero risk to Imogen.
There was also the possibility, though, of her meeting someone else, and when he thought of that, it was like the air had been sucked from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe; he could barely stand. That wasn’t a good enough reason to tie her up in this marriage, though.
Only, Imogen had assured him, again and again, that she wanted this. That she was okay. That she understood his boundaries. What right did he or Genevieve have to question that?
‘This isn’t your decision.’
‘But it is yours.’
‘No, it’s Imogen’s.’
‘And you’re really happy to let her make this mistake again?’
‘What mistake? We are marrying to give our daughter a family. This matters to us both.’
‘That might be why you’re marrying her, but I can guarantee it’s more than that for Imogen. She probably doesn’t even realise that yet, but if you think she doesn’t love you, you’re an idiot.’
He stared at her. ‘She does not love me.’ She couldn’t. No one could. Memories of that morning, with the sunlight shifting through the bedroom window, as Imogen had rolled over and told him she loved him, slammed into him, unwanted and awful—memories he rarely examined because the feelings had been too extreme to navigate.
‘I’m as shocked as you are,’ Genevieve muttered.
‘Three years ago, we misunderstood one another—’
Genevieve made a noise and rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever.’
He frowned. ‘She has told me she didn’t love me. That she only thought she did, because of her inexperience. We’ve both moved on.’
Genevieve looked at him, aghast, then shook her head. ‘Wait here a second.’
She returned a moment later with a CD.
‘Listen to her music. She might have told you something, just like she might have told me something, but in her music, she’s always honest. Go, listen to the songs, then tell me this is a risk you’re happy to take. Tell me you’re not going to mess her up all over again.’
* * *
He played the CD on the drive to his office, but even when the car pulled into the secure car park, he continued to sit where he was, listening to each and every lyric, his heart pounding so hard and fast it formed a new backing track to the songs.
These were incredible songs. Songs of desperation. Of love. Of yearning and need. Of hurt and anger and hatred. In these eight songs, he ran the full gamut of her feelings, from realising she loved him, to her breaking heart, to her utter dejection and misery, the feeling of betrayal and then angry hatred. He recognised the last song. It had been a huge hit, played everywhere in the world when it was first released and for months afterwards. It must have been the song she’d told him of, the song that had been purchased off this demo.
He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. She’d sung this song at the bar, and looked at him—how good that must have felt for her, to be able to serenade him with a hate song she’d written just for him.
He dragged his hands through his hair, the world tipping wildly onto its side. Because Genevieve was right, and he’d known it all along. The album gave him more of an understanding and insight, but it was just clarifying something he’d been feeling, instincts he’d been having, since she’d first come back into his life.
He was playing with fire, and didn’t he know the reality of that? Fire always burned. Fire killed.
No way would he put Imogen through this again. No way on earth, no way in hell. He cared for her. Recognising that was like the slipping into place of a foundational brick. He cared for her. He’d cared for her then too. That was why he’d reacted so harshly, needed to break things off swiftly, to make her hate him. And he cared for her now, too much to let her be hurt. He cared for her enough to set her free.
* * *
With Aurora settled in bed for the night, Imogen pulled a lasagne from the oven and began to serve their dinner, but Luca forestalled her. ‘Do you mind if we talk a minute?’
She frowned. ‘Can we talk over dinner? I’m starving.’
He frowned. ‘Sure, okay.’
She glanced at him. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Fine.’ His smile was forced though, and a sense of uncertainty spread through her. Nonetheless, she served up their lasagne, handing a plate to him. But he collected both and carried them through to the dining table, which she’d set earlier with placemats and cutlery.
‘What did you want to talk about?’
He looked down at her lasagne. ‘Eat first.’
She took a scoop of the food to her mouth, enjoyed the flavours, but was impatient to know what was on his mind. He was adamant, though, and waited until she’d almost finished before leaning back in his chair a little, his own meal untouched.
‘I made a mistake, Imogen.’ His words were wooden. She glanced at him, not sure what he meant.
‘What with?’
‘Us. This.’
She was very still. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The marriage. It’s a mistake. I didn’t think it through.’
She pressed her cutlery to the table, appetite completely gone. ‘What?’
‘We can be in Aurora’s life without marrying. We can even live together. But I think it’s imperative that the lines not be blurred between us—as a man and woman, and as parents.’
The blood in her veins turned to ice. ‘What does that mean?’
His lips compressed. ‘We’re attracted to each other. We always have been. But the moment I knew about Aurora, that should have been the end of it. Sex between us is a mistake. Getting married is a mistake. We will do better by Aurora if we find a way to work together that doesn’t have the potential to blow up in our faces.’
‘I thought that’s what we were doing.’
A muscle throbbed in his jaw. ‘Three years ago, I ruined your life. I’m not going to do it again.’
‘You didn’t ruin my life,’ she denied, clinging to that falsehood. ‘I was fine.’
‘You were not fine.’ His back was ramrod straight. ‘I heard the songs.’
She blinked quickly. ‘You what?’
‘I heard the songs.’
‘How could you—’ She closed her eyes as comprehension dawned. ‘Genevieve.’
He dipped his head once. ‘She was looking out for your best interests—as I should have done.’
‘Damn it.’ Imogen slammed her palm against the table. ‘Did it occur to either of you that I’m a big girl who can look after my own interests?’
‘Like you did three years ago?’
‘I’m not the same person any more.’
‘And why not?’
She went silent.
‘You’re not that same beautiful, innocent, trusting woman because I broke you.’ His voice was rent with self-directed anger. ‘I destroyed you. I heard the lyrics. Every single word was written for me, about me, about us, about what I did to you. I will not take that risk again.’
‘I was fine,’ she repeated, aware they both knew it was a lie.
He shook his head once, seeing through it. ‘This was a mistake.’
‘How come I don’t get to decide that?’
‘Because you’re too damned good,’ he muttered. ‘You’re not the same as you were three years ago, but you’re still too fair-minded, too kind. You would marry me because of Aurora, and you’ll look past any of my faults because of what I’ve been through. You put everyone ahead of yourself and it has to stop.’
She gawped, his words etching lines in her soul. ‘What if this marriage is what I want?’
He ground his teeth. ‘We both know it’s not.’
Imogen jammed her lips together, on the brink of saying something she knew she’d regret. Because he was wrong. This marriage had come to mean so much more to her. It wasn’t just about Aurora, or the past. It was the slotting into place of a piece of her that she hadn’t realised she’d been missing.
She toyed with her fork, trying not to react as her mind spun faster and faster.
The truth was, Luca was a part of her.
He always had been.
Not all of him—he would never give all of himself to anyone. But that didn’t matter. Imogen would take the bread crumbs. Just as she had back then.
Because she loved him.
She sucked in a soft breath, the thought almost knocking her sideways.
She loved him now, just as much as she had then. No—more. She loved him because she knew him so much better now. She understood his faults and flaws and the reason for them. She understood the trauma he’d survived but found it impossible to live through, a trauma that had trapped him in an awful, awful web of misery and self-loathing. A trauma that had made him sabotage any relationship, push everyone away, even his aunt and uncle and especially Imogen.
He was doing it again now. He was making it seem as if it was about protecting her, but that wasn’t true. At least, it wasn’t the whole truth. He was protecting himself. Because he loved her? The suspicion popped into her mind unbidden and, at first, she yearned to dismiss it. Why would she be stupid enough to believe he loved her? What kind of glutton for punishment was she?
And yet, didn’t it make sense?
He had been a lone wolf for so long, and completely by choice, because he wouldn’t let himself be loved; he didn’t think he was worthy of it. Could it be true? Her heart hurt at the very idea.
‘What do you want, Luca?’
‘That’s not important.’
‘Says who?’
‘Me.’ His lips curved into a mocking smile. ‘Your sister.’
‘Ignore Gen, for now.’
‘I can’t. She knows you better than anyone.’
‘Does she?’ Imogen challenged. ‘You don’t think you know me pretty well by now, too?’
‘I didn’t know about this.’
Imogen’s cheeks flushed pink. ‘I’m a musician,’ she muttered dismissively. ‘Writing about my feelings is a part of what I do. Sometimes it sounds worse than it is.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
She didn’t contradict him. Her songs were an accurate reflection of how she’d felt at the time. ‘Okay,’ she said unevenly. ‘You broke me. You did. I fell in love with you—I don’t mean I thought I loved you. I fell in actual, hard, all-consuming love with you and then you talked to me as if I was nothing. Nobody. Like I could walk out of your house, and you wouldn’t ever think of me again. Do you have any idea how tortured I was by the idea of you and other women? You said you’d replace me straightaway, and all I could think about, night after night after night, was you doing exactly that.’
He sat completely still, his face a mask of impenetrable cool, but she could see the emotions in his eyes and knew he was feeling this. She knew he was hurting too.
‘I should never have said that. I just needed you to leave.’
‘You were honest with me.’ She tilted her chin. ‘And even though it hurt, I’m glad. You were honest with me that day and you’ve been honest with me ever since. No matter what happens, you have never promised me something you couldn’t give me.’
‘That’s not true.’ His voice was gravelled. ‘I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, but I’m not so sure about that now.’
‘Again, that’s not up to you.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re misunderstanding me. This isn’t a debate. I’m not marrying you, Imogen. I won’t do it to either of us.’
Her lips parted on a soft breath, surprise contorting her features. ‘I can’t believe this.’ She pushed back from the table and stood, her whole body shaking. ‘So what do you want, Luca?’
He stared at her for several seconds. ‘I want to work out how to do this without messing everything up. We’re Aurora’s parents, but that’s where it has to end. We can parent together, be civil to one another, but we can no longer sleep together, or eat meals together as if something more is going to come of this. I know it won’t, and going through the motions feels a hell of a lot like leading you on.’
She stared at him, her heart pounding against her ribs. He was right. He hadn’t led her on, but everything they’d been doing had become real to her, despite his warnings, his insistence on maintaining boundaries. Even in spite of her own certainty that she would be able to keep this in a box this time around. She hadn’t. She couldn’t.
She dropped her head, the reality spilling over into her soul. ‘I need to think,’ she muttered, stalking towards the door, slipping her feet into shoes and leaving the house before she screamed. She was so damned angry, so frustrated, she wanted to punch something. Instead, she slammed the door behind her, then slumped her shoulders and let a single tear roll down her cheek.
How could she be here again?