CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
He’d done the right thing. He’d hated every minute of it, but wasn’t that the point? He was back in his comfort zone, back where he thrived.
Alone.
Angry at the world.
Angry with himself.
He paced the living room like a caged beast, each stride a commitment to this path. Imogen couldn’t become collateral damage in his quest for misery. Imogen had to be set free.
He had done the right thing.
He repeated it, as a mantra, because in saying it, the words became something solid to cling to, a reassurance in a sea of uncertainty, an unravelling of all that he’d held fast to all his adult life.
* * *
‘I thought I’d see you,’ Genevieve said, opening the door to their flat and waving Imogen inside.
Imogen shook her head at her sister, angry, sad, bereft. ‘You had no business getting involved, Gen.’
‘You think? Who picked up the pieces last time? Literally held the baby while you were coping with what he did to you?’
‘All he did to me was not love me back. That’s not a crime, and it’s not something you need to punish him for.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But you’re planning to marry the guy, so of course he should fully comprehend what that means for you.’
‘Don’t you think that’s my decision?’
‘When it comes to Luca Romano, you make terrible decisions.’
Imogen ground her teeth together. ‘Luca is—’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t know him.’
‘I know that he’s going to marry you, even though I’ve told him how disastrous it will be for you. I know that he’s a selfish son of—’
‘No,’ Imogen spat, shaking her head as tears stung her lashes. ‘He’s not.’
Silence crackled between the sisters.
‘He’s called it off.’
Genevieve let out a low whistle, moving towards Imogen and wrapping her in a hug. The floodgates opened then, and Imogen sobbed against her.
‘Oh, honey,’ Genevieve murmured. ‘I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’s for the best.’
‘It feels like the opposite of that,’ she whispered. ‘I understand why you’re worried, but Gen, I’m telling you, Luca is… There’s something about him. He’s…’
‘He’s Aurora’s father,’ Genevieve said. ‘Of course you feel something for him. You’ll always share her, and—’
‘No, this is about him and me. We’re like magnets. No—’ She pulled back as realisation dawned. ‘We’re like soulmates,’ she corrected. ‘My soul seeks his soul and nothing else matters.’
‘Do you hear yourself?’ Genevieve groaned. ‘How can you say that after what he did to you?’
‘You don’t understand. He is on a path of self-sabotage. He refuses to get close to anyone. He’s been fighting me this whole time, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want this. In fact, the harder he fights, the more he wants. I know it sounds ridiculous—’
‘Yeah. It really does. If someone loves you, they say that. They put it out in the open because nothing is simpler or more important than love. Luca doesn’t love you.’
‘Then why call off the wedding?’ Imogen challenged. ‘If he doesn’t care about me, why not just marry me, to hell with the consequences for me?’
‘Because he’s not a total jerk,’ Genevieve conceded. ‘He must have some scruples, somewhere in that big, dumb head of his.’
Imogen stiffened, pulled back from her sister. ‘I know you think I’m doing the wrong thing—’
‘I know it, with all my heart.’
‘Okay.’ Imogen blinked slowly. She loved her sister; they were closer than the best of friends. But Imogen still had to live her life and make her choices. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, I really am.’
‘But you’re going to marry him anyway.’
‘If I can change his mind, yes. I’m going to marry him.’
And for the first time in days, she felt the certainty of that decision like a blade in her spine, a strengthening force that had her standing tall, staring right into her future. Every single piece of her was pushing her towards this, and him.
* * *
For the smallest window of time, he’d let this feel real. He’d let it feel real even when that broke every rule he’d set for himself. And he’d been telling himself it was all in his control, that they were on the same page. He’d told himself she wouldn’t get hurt because he kept laying out the ground rules, but he hadn’t really understood just how explosive things were between them. Trying to control this situation was like trying to tame the ocean.
He should have ended things between them the moment he’d found out about Aurora.
He paced the lounge room, listening to small noises from upstairs—Imogen singing to their daughter, speaking softly. Reading, perhaps. When she came down, they’d finish the conversation he’d started the night before and begin drawing up a future that didn’t involve a personal relationship.
It would serve him right. Not just for what he did to his own family, but for how he’d treated Imogen. He would be a spectator in her life for ever, watching her go from strength to strength—as surely she must. He no longer feared her meeting someone else. He almost relished the prospect. Let him stand by and watch her be swept off her feet, as she deserved. Let him watch her be joyously happy with a man who wasn’t broken and damaged, who was capable of loving her as she deserved. Let that man form the family Imogen wanted and Aurora deserved.
His gut twisted and seemed to drop to his toes; the pain of that spectre almost weakened his resolve, so he ran his palm across his scarred chest, the ridges palpable through the cotton of his shirt, reminding him of the core beliefs that had defined his life.
He’d given up so much in the name of punishment; this was just one more sacrifice.
‘She’s asleep.’ Imogen’s voice was soft, tentative. As if she knew they had a messy conversation ahead of them and was bracing herself for it.
‘Good.’ He turned to face her, felt his stomach tighten at the sight of her, the way her long hair was loose and wavy around her face, tousled like it became after they made love. He looked away quickly, jaw clenched. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘No.’
When he glanced back at her, Imogen had wrapped her hands around her waist, as if to offer herself comfort. He cursed inwardly; he had to stop hurting her. He had to get her out of his orbit, in which everything he touched turned to dust.
‘I spoke to a lawyer today.’
Imogen’s sharp intake of breath shouldn’t have surprised him. She was afraid he was going to take away their daughter, even now? One look at her face confirmed that—she was paler than a ghost.
‘To discuss how to set up a shared custody arrangement,’ he continued, his voice eerily calm given the maelstrom of his emotions. ‘Since learning about Aurora, I have made a mistake at almost every opportunity. It’s time to start getting things right.’
Imogen’s lips parted, but a little colour returned to her face. ‘You acted out of love—’
He opened his mouth to deny it, but as if she couldn’t bear to hear that denial, Imogen quickly continued.
‘For our daughter. Every decision you made was borne of a love for her, right?’
He ground his teeth. ‘Please, don’t do that.’
‘Don’t do what?’
‘Make excuses for me.’
‘Is that what I’m doing?’
‘It stops you from seeing me as I really am.’
‘I’ve been seeing you this whole time, Luca. Way better than you see yourself.’
‘No.’ The word was rich with finality, a sharp denial. ‘I’m not going to get into this with you. We’re not discussing me, or my merits. There’s no point. Let’s keep things relevant to Aurora.’
She opened her mouth and then sighed, shaking her head a little before moving with innate grace towards one of the armchairs. She didn’t sit down, though; instead, Imogen pressed her hands to the back of it, using it almost as a shield.
‘What did the lawyer say?’
‘There are several options, depending on what we think will work best. One solution is nest parenting,’ he said, voice gruff. ‘We have a shared home, which is for Aurora, and we move in and out. I stay with her, then you do, and vice versa, so she continues to have a stable residence. The lawyer said this may be particularly helpful to school-aged children, who have busy schedules and would prefer not to be lugging things from one parent’s house to another.’
Imogen’s eyes were wet with unshed tears; she didn’t bother to blink them away.
Seeing them only hardened his resolve.
This was what he did. This was what he was good at, and why he had to let her go. If she stayed with him, he would keep hurting her, even when he didn’t want to.
‘Alternatively, we can stick to a more standard custody arrangement, where I have Aurora here some of the time and you have her the rest.’ He frowned, a deep groove. ‘However, I would insist on buying you a home, ideally somewhere near mine. Naturally, your sister could live with you there.’
Imogen blinked rapidly. ‘I have a home.’
‘You have a flat,’ he responded sharply, then softened his tone. He hated everything about this conversation, though, and it was impossible to keep that from his voice and manner. ‘Aurora will need more space as she gets older, she’ll need more things. And vitally, I would like her to know that I am looking after her mother.’
Imogen bristled. ‘I don’t need you to look after me.’
He felt the hint of combat in her voice and tried to calm his own rioting emotions. ‘I mean to financially support you, as I would have been doing all along, had I known about her.’
Imogen dropped her head forward, staring at the back of the armchair as though it was endlessly fascinating to her.
‘The lawyer said that given our relative financial positions, a support arrangement would form part of a shared parenting agreement.’
‘Please, stop.’ She whispered the words, but they seemed to reverberate around the house as if she’d yelled them. ‘Don’t say another word.’
Per her request, he compressed his lips, crossing his arms over her chest. Silence now rebounded against the walls, bouncing in a way that he felt in the core of his being.
Imogen lifted her head slowly, and for a moment, accusation glittered in her eyes before it was replaced by something else. Determination? Impatience?
‘You and I agreed to get married because we wanted to give Aurora the kind of family life that we both enjoyed, a family life that matters to us. We wanted her mother and father living together, under one roof, supporting her, loving her, building her up before she goes out into the world on her own. You’re the one who has been pushing that all along, and I don’t think it’s fair that you get to just pull that away from me when you decide to.’
Waves of emotion rolled through him. Fair? Fair? What about this was fair? What about anything in life was?
He slashed a frustrated hand through the air. ‘We cannot separate us as people from us as parents.’
Imogen made a scoffing noise. ‘Isn’t that normal?’
‘Not for us. Not for what we are.’
‘You keep trying to define us. Why can’t you just let us be, and see where this goes?’
‘We’ve done that,’ he responded sharply. ‘And you got destroyed. Annihilated. Remember, I heard the songs. You trusted me, you loved me, and I twisted that love into something dark and furious. I twisted you.’
She blanched. ‘Yes, you did. I loved you with all my heart, but you couldn’t handle that. You pushed me away then and you’re pushing me away now. Anytime I get close to you, you panic. You’re terrified of letting me love you, aren’t you, Luca? That’s just about the worst thing you can imagine.’
Hadn’t he said as much? She wasn’t wrong; he knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it, because he knew what the logical progression of that was. He knew the conclusion she might leap to, but it didn’t change anything about what he wanted. About what he’d let come of this.
‘And why is that? Why are you so damned afraid to just let yourself be loved?’
‘You know the answer to that,’ he muttered. ‘And we’re not talking about me right now. This is about Aurora, and how we’re going to both be in her life without…’
‘No, we’re talking about you. Three years ago, I let you push me away because my feelings were hurt, my heart was broken, and it stopped me from seeing that your heart was broken too. It stopped me from seeing you . But I see you now—I see you so well, Luca. I see all the parts of you, and guess what?’
He braced. He held himself still. Fear was a throttle at his throat.
‘I love you anyway.’
His body reverberated on a tide of terror. Of disgust and anger. And of something else, something that was warm and addictive, something that was urging him to look towards the golden light of what she was saying, rather than into the dark torment of his past.
‘I don’t want you to love me,’ he said, voice harsh, even when he knew the words weren’t completely true. He hated himself for being so selfish, but her love…it meant something. It was a validation and a reassurance. It was a balm. But Luca didn’t want a balm to his pain; he wanted to feel it, deep and hard, for the rest of his life.
‘You can control a lot of things in this life, but not who loves you.’
‘You’ll get over it.’
‘Well, it’s been three years, and I haven’t got over you yet, so why do you think that’s going to change any time soon?’
He glared at her, shaking his head. It was preposterous to suggest he’d occupied a place in her heart and mind in these intervening years.
‘I’m serious,’ she reiterated. ‘There hasn’t been anyone else for me, Luca. I used to think it was because I’ve been busy with Aurora, but that’s just a lie I told myself to feel better about still loving someone who didn’t want me. I had the chance to date. I’ve been asked out by guys, and Genevieve would always have minded Aurora, but I couldn’t bring myself to so much as look at anyone else. Because of you, and what you still meant to me.’
‘Stop it,’ he said, dragging a hand through his hair. He couldn’t hear this. He couldn’t hear any of it. Knowing he was the only man to have been with her, the only man who’d worshipped her body, made her cry out with sensual heat—how could that fail to pull at him?
He groaned inwardly, needing to put a stop to this conversation.
‘You can’t keep fighting me, Luca. I’m here and I want to be here for the rest of our lives. Three years ago, I let you push me away, but that was a profound mistake, and it’s not a mistake I intend to make this time around. I can’t lose you again, and I don’t think you want to lose me.’
‘You can’t lose something you never had.’
She flinched—as he’d intended. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, but if that was the only way to get her to accept that he’d never be the Prince Charming she was imagining…
‘You’re sabotaging your life,’ she said softly, surprising him with the strength in her features though, and the fact she was willing to continue this conversation. ‘You told me you’d never met anyone like me, that spending a month with me was something you’d never done with another woman. You didn’t treat me like some disposable woman you were taking to bed—you treated me like your lifeblood. You treated me like oxygen. That’s what I should have said to you that morning.’
He closed his eyes on a sinking feeling of fatigue and despair. Imogen had been right; she had changed. Three years ago, he’d been able to control their break-up, even when it had almost destroyed him. Now she was fighting him, tooth and nail. Fighting for them.
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference.’
‘Wouldn’t it?’
‘No. I needed you out of my life.’
‘Because you were scared of what I meant to you.’
His eyes met hers. He should deny it. He knew he should keep shutting down her statements, keep holding to the truth he’d built in his mind. But he was suddenly weary—the kind of weariness that came from carrying a deep, possessive grief for a lifetime. So, he stayed silent, staring at her and beseeching with his eyes for her to understand and relent. To stop pushing him to admit things he couldn’t, or didn’t want to.
‘You were scared of loving me back, even when I think you already did.’
His hands formed fists at his sides; he tried to take strength and command from the physicality of controlling his muscles, to build himself back up cell by cell, but Imogen was pulsing inside of him, weakening him just as he’d always feared she would.
‘And you’re still scared. You’re still running.’
He didn’t move to touch his side but instead reached for another wound, mentally. He closed his eyes and remembered the fire. The smell of smoke and burning flesh, the contrast with the cold beneath his feet, the neighbours’ strong arms holding him back, the grief and anger and self-recriminations. He reminded himself that he was the worst person in the world, that he’d denied himself her love, and the ability to love her back, because he deserved that, because he owed as much as payment for the crime he’d committed.
‘I killed them,’ he said quietly, as though that were an answer.
Sympathy washed over Imogen’s face.
‘You did not kill them,’ she said, so firmly, with such determination, he almost believed her.
‘You weren’t there.’
‘You were twelve years old and you formed an opinion that you haven’t let yourself grow out of. You were not at fault, Luca. You were just a boy—there is nothing more you could have done.’
‘The fire—’
‘Not your fault. I have no doubt your parents checked it before they went to bed. What happened was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident that you will always grieve and regret, but it was not your fault. It’s time to stop punishing yourself. It’s time to start living.’
‘No.’ The word was torn from him, so loud that he clamped his jaw and spun away from her, his chest moving with his ragged inhalations. He didn’t want to wake Aurora; he didn’t want to yell at Imogen either.
‘You have to confront this head-on and see how futile your self-loathing is.’
‘Why?’ He angled his head back in her direction, raking her with his obsidian eyes. ‘Why does it matter?’
Her smile was one of torment. ‘Because it’s not just your life you’re ruining, but mine too. Our fates are bound, Luca. They were from the first night we met, from the moment we made love, and they always will be. Not just because of Aurora, but because of us.’
He closed his eyes on a wave of guilt—bigger than he’d ever known. ‘I never should have let this happen.’
‘I don’t think either of us could have stopped it.’
Silence fell, crackling with the pain of the past and the sheer impossibility of any kind of shared future.
‘Listen to me.’ Imogen’s voice emerged husky and raw. ‘I believe in my soul that you love me. I don’t need to hear you say it to know that it’s true. And I think you’ve been trying to work out a way to have me in your life without betraying this idea you developed as a twelve-year-old that you’d have to spend the rest of your days miserable and alone because of the accident. So you’ve been putting up electric fences and barriers and holding me at a distance. But then you started to let me in anyway, and you asked me to marry you, and you told me that I am in your blood. I am telling you that this is enough for me.’ She tilted her chin with defiance. ‘I am saying that I can live my life without you saying that you love me; I can live my life with the understanding that there are parts of you you’ll never share with me. I can live my life with those limitations, but I want you in it. I don’t want to turn my back on this, or you, again.’
How easy it would have been to take her at face value and accept what she was offering. Wasn’t that his dream? To have her without needing to give her more than he wanted to?
But it wouldn’t work.
Not because she would make him the happiest man on earth when he’d sworn he would be miserable always, but because the limitations she was willing to accept were an insult to Imogen, and she was worthy of so much better.
‘That’s not good enough,’ he muttered. ‘It won’t work.’
‘Of course it will. It’s been working, hasn’t it?’
‘No. We’ve been sitting on a ticking time bomb and it’s exploding all around us.’
She flinched again.
‘I will stay here with you, for the rest of our lives, as your wife, or your lover, or whatever, and I will never tell you I love you again, I will never ask you to love me, if that’s what you want.’ She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Or I will leave, in the morning, and that will be the end of us, once and for all. The decision is yours.’
A muscle throbbed at the base of his jaw as he stared back at her and felt the tearing of his being. There she was—the person he wanted, the woman he loved—but she was across an impossible divide, a barrier he couldn’t straddle.
He had to let her go, but it couldn’t be like this. He couldn’t let her doubt what she meant to him; there was no way he would allow her to go without fully understanding how damned difficult this was for him. He was being torn apart and she should understand that—if only to save her from existing in the same hell space he occupied.
‘I love you,’ he said, so simply, and bizarrely, it didn’t hurt to say the words. It didn’t even feel strange, because loving Imogen was such a part of him now. He didn’t know when that had happened, but she was stitched deep into his soul and probably always would be. ‘But I can’t be with you. I love you, but I refuse to let myself love you. And if you really love me, you’d understand that, and you’d accept it.’ He closed his eyes on a wave of disgust. ‘It’s just the way I am, cara. It’s just who I am.’