Chapter 32 #2
‘Would you have told me? Or would I have just woken up one morning to a text telling me you’d gone? Or turned up at the farmhouse to find you’d disappeared?’
‘Of course I would have told you.’ Leaning forward again, he held his hands out in the middle of the table, his palms up, waiting for hers. ‘Like I said, I had planned to tell you this evening, after dinner.’
She looked from her own hands to his. She couldn’t think straight. Her thoughts were all jumbling in her mind. Tentatively, she placed her hands in his, feeling a lump form in her throat as he closed his fingers around hers. ‘Why? Why do they need you back now?’
‘Because the firm’s lost one of our biggest clients. They think I stand a chance of winning them back.’
‘I thought you were the boss? Can’t you just tell them what to do?’
‘I still have people above me, people I answer to – the board, the shareholders, the…’ His voice trailed off.
She nodded. He was leaving early, running away from Meadowfield, from her, because his firm had lost a client. He was choosing winning the client back over her. His job was already coming between them. ‘And when you go back, what happens to us?’
‘Just like we discussed, we visit each other. You can come to London. I can come here.’ Leaning forward, he circled his thumbs against the back of her hands. ‘We make this work.’
‘So, this weekend, you’ll come back to Meadowfield? Or I’ll come to London?’ She focused on the rhythmic circular motion of his skin against hers.
‘Not this weekend.’ His voice cracked. ‘I’ll need to fly out to New York, but the weekend after.’
Jerking her head up, she looked him in the eyes. That was exactly what she’d been afraid of. He would be too busy for her. That’s what had happened to his ex, and it was going to happen all over again with them.
Pulling his hand away, he cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears she hadn’t realised were falling. ‘It’s just one weekend. We’ll have all the other weekends.’
She shook her head. ‘No, we won’t. I work some weekends when the pub has a private function and Jackson is needed there, and then how often do you have to fly out to places?’
‘A couple of times a month. Sometimes less…’
‘Sometimes more.’ She finished his sentence for him. ‘Why did we think this would work?’
‘Because it has to.’ Pushing himself to standing, he kept his hand on her cheek as he leaned across and kissed her, his lips finding hers, the taste of her tears coming between them.
She closed her eyes as she gripped the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want this kiss to end. She didn’t want to stop feeling his touch against her.
Pulling away, he sat back down and took her hands in his. ‘We’ll make it work. I’ll move things around. I’ll come here as often as I can. As much as possible.’
She shook her head, her eyes fixed on his. She could see this was breaking him as much as it was breaking her.
‘Please. Please let me try.’
She took a long, shuddering breath in. She knew what she needed to say. However much it was going to hurt the both of them, she knew it would surely be less painful in the long term. ‘We’ve been kidding ourselves.’
‘No, no, we haven’t.’ He searched her face, his eyes raking over her down-turned mouth, her furrowed forehead, the pain in her eyes.
‘We have and you know it, too. We don’t stand a chance. Your last relationship fell apart because you worked too much, and you both lived in London. How can this possibly work?’
‘Because I love you, Nicola Fields. That’s why it’s going to work. Because it has to work.’
She bit down on her bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. He loved her. It changed everything and yet nothing whatsoever. The end result would still remain. ‘I love you too, but sometimes love isn’t enough.’
‘Love is always enough.’ His voice was rough, gravelly, as he reached out to cup her cheek again.
Leaning back, she watched as confusion swept across his face.
He couldn’t have really thought this conversation would have had a different ending, could he?
There was no way out, no chance that what they felt for each could survive.
If they never saw each other, how could they possibly keep a relationship alive?
‘Nic?’ His voice was quiet, broken.
She shook her head slowly before jutting her chin out and shaking it with more decisiveness than she felt. ‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Charlie. I really am.’
‘Nic, please? Give me a chance, give us a chance.’
‘No, I can’t put myself through this. I just can’t.’ Standing up, she hurried across the garden, stooping to pick Trixie up, before running into the cottage and closing the door behind her.
Less than a minute later, she heard Charlie knocking against the glass of the back door whilst pleading with her.
Walking through to the living room, Trixie still in her arms, she lowered herself to the floor in front of the sofa and buried her face in Trixie’s fur. How had it come to this? They’d both told each other they loved each other for the first and last time.
All in the same breath.