Ashleigh swivelled on her stool to stare at him. Was that regret she could hear in his tone?
She waited until he’d given the barman his order and his drink had arrived before speaking again.
‘My mother told me why you’re here.’
His gaze met hers but he didn’t answer. Something indefinable flickered in the depths of his coal-black eyes before he turned back to his drink and took a deep draught.
Ashleigh watched the up and down movement of his throat as he swallowed. He was sitting so close she could touch him but it felt as if there was an invisible wall around him.
‘Why did you tell me when we met that both your parents were dead?’ she asked when she could stand the silence no longer.
‘It seemed the easiest thing to say at the time.’
‘Yes, well, lying was always something that came very naturally to you,’ she bit out resentfully.
He turned to look at her, his darker-than-night eyes holding hers. ‘It might surprise you to hear this, but I didn’t like lying to you, Ashleigh. I just thought it was less complicated than explaining everything.’
Ashleigh stared at him as he took another sip of his drink, her heart feeling too tight, as if the space allocated for it had suddenly been drastically reduced. What did he mean—‘explain everything’?
She let another silence pass before she asked, ‘When did you arrive?’
‘A couple of weeks ago. I thought I’d wait until after the funeral to see if he left me anything in his will.’ He drained his glass and set it back down with a nerve-jangling crack on the bar in front of him.
There was a trace of something in his voice that suggested he hadn’t been all that certain of his father’s intentions regarding his estate. Ashleigh was surprised at how tempted she was to reach out and touch him, to offer him some sort of comfort for what he was going through. She had to hold on to her glass with both hands to stop herself from doing so, knowing he wouldn’t welcome it in the bitter context of their past relationship.
‘And did he?’ She met his eyes once more. ‘Leave you anything?’
A cynical half smile twisted his mouth as his eyes meshed with hers. ‘He left me everything he didn’t want for himself.’
She had to look away from the burning heat of his eyes. She stared down at the slice of lemon in her glass. ‘It must be very hard for you…just now.’
Jake gave an inward grimace as he watched her toy with her straw, her small neat fingers demonstrating her unease in his company.
The hardest thing he’d ever had to do was to look her up that afternoon. His pride, his damned pride, had insisted he was a fool for doing so, but in the end he’d overridden it for just one look at her.
When he’d seen her mother at the house he’d considered waiting for however long it took for Ashleigh to return, but sensing Mrs Forrester’s discomfiture had reluctantly left. He hadn’t been entirely sure she would have even told Ashleigh of his call. He could hardly blame her, of course. No doubt Ashleigh had told her family what a pig-headed selfish bastard he’d been to her all the time they’d been together.
But he had to see her.
He had to see her to remind himself of what he’d thrown away.
‘Yes…it’s not been easy,’ he admitted, staring into his empty glass.
He felt her shift beside him and had to stop himself from turning to her and hauling her into his arms.
She looked fantastic.
She’d grown into her body in a way few women these days did. Her figure had pleased him no end in the past, but now it was riper, more womanly, her softer curves making him ache to mould her to him as he had done in the past.
If only they had just met now, without the spectre of their previous relationship dividing them. But it wasn’t their past that had divided them—it had been his. And it was only now that he was finally coming to terms with it.
‘Your mother looks the same,’ he said, sending her another quick glance, taking in her ringless fingers with immeasurable relief.
‘Yes…’
‘How is your father?’
‘Retired now,’ Ashleigh answered. ‘Enjoying being able to play with…er…’
Jake swung his gaze back to hers at her sudden vocal stall. ‘Golf?’
Ashleigh clutched at the sudden lifeline with relief. ‘Yes… golf. He plays a lot of golf.’
‘I always liked your dad,’ he said, looking back at his empty glass again.
The undisguised warmth in his statement moved her very deeply. Ashleigh’s family had come over to London for Christmas the second year she’d been living with Jake, and she had watched how Jake had done his best to fit in with her family. When he hadn’t been hiding away at work he’d spent a bit of time with her father, choosing his company instead of the boisterous and giggling presence of her younger sisters, Mia and Ellie, and her trying-too-hard mother. She had been touched by his effort to include himself in her family’s activities, his tall, somewhat aloof, presence often seeming out of place and awkward amidst the rough and tumble of the family interactions that she had always taken for granted.