Exotic Nights

‘It’s OK, Owen. You don’t have to hide it.’

He looked away from her, as if

what she’d said had hurt. ‘I haven’t got what they need.’ His voice was low. ‘Children deserve more than an emotionally absent father.’

She frowned. Emotionally absent? Owen wasn’t absent—he was more real, more vital than anyone she’d ever met. She could see the trouble inside him on his face—something was stirring in him and she didn’t think it was altogether because of her. But what? And she remembered what he’d said—what his ex had said—that he was selfish. Why had the woman thought that? What had happened? When it was obvious he was generous, not just financially but in more ways than he’d admit. Suddenly Bella wanted him to see that.

‘Who waters your garden, Owen?’

He frowned.

‘Your plants upstairs,’ she explained.

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Everything.’ She smiled. ‘That’s noticing, that’s remembering, that’s caring.’ She paused. ‘That’s all that children need.’

He was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘They also need to be wanted.’

Her suspicions solidified as she heard his desolate hollowness. And even though the thought of the answer terrified her, she couldn’t stop from asking the question. ‘Have you been through this before, Owen?’

Owen owed her honesty. Then she’d see the person he really was, and this whole ending thing wouldn’t be nearly so bad—she’d be out of his place in no time. Because no woman would understand the way he’d reacted—especially not one who liked kids so much she actually worked with them. It would be over, and he could move on. ‘You know I had that girlfriend, right?’

‘The one who said you were selfish.’

‘Right.’ He grinned without mirth. ‘Around the time I was selling the company she told me she was pregnant.’

Bella nodded.

He looked away from her, not coping with the hint of sympathy he saw in her eyes. ‘I wasn’t remotely keen. I felt nothing. I felt worse than nothing.’ He took a breath and said it. ‘I didn’t want it. How terrible is that? Not to want your own flesh and blood?’ He’d felt trapped. He still felt guilty about that.

‘She was dreaming up names and was all excited and hanging out for a ring and I didn’t want to know a thing about it.’ He’d withdrawn and gone remote on her rather than admitting how he felt. Certainly hadn’t dropped down on one knee instantly as she’d seemed to expect he would. ‘It was a crazy time. I was working all hours negotiating this deal …’ That was no excuse; he should have been just a little more interested. But the fact was he’d been wanting out of the relationship for a while already. He just hadn’t got round to breaking off with her—too busy to be bothered. And he was still too busy to be able to think it through properly—he’d just avoided the issue for a while. Tried to pretend it wasn’t real, tried to swallow the guilt that came with that.

‘What happened?’

‘She was mistaken. There was no baby.’ She’d been late, that was all. When she’d told him, with red-rimmed eyes and a catch in her throat, he’d been so relieved and he hadn’t been able to hide it from her. That was when she’d lost it—screamed at him about how selfish he was, how unsupportive, that his heart only beat for his business. And she’d been right. He hadn’t wanted her or the baby or any of it. It had got really ugly then, and in the course of the argument Liz had slipped up.

It wasn’t that she’d been late at all. She’d made it up—there had never been the possibility of a pregnancy. She’d tried to manipulate him—cornering him just as he was about to come into vast wealth. And she’d done it in such a low fashion—because even though he’d known it probably wouldn’t work, his integrity would have insisted that he try. He’d have married her and she knew it. It was just that he hadn’t come to the party soon enough for her to get away with it. Whether she’d wanted him or the money he didn’t know—he suspected the latter.

He’d been viciously angry then and vowed never to be put in the same position again. No woman would wield that threat over him. He didn’t want it—marriage, babies—not ever.

‘She met someone else not long after.’ He dragged out a cynical smile, feeling sorry for the poor bastard she’d netted. ‘She married him, has a kid or two. She’s happy.’ She’d got what she’d wanted.

And he was happy too, right? Happy with his choices and with his freedom to focus on his work and on fun.

The silence was long. Bella was looking at him, expression clouded. He felt bad—the bitterness that Liz had left him with wasn’t for her. This hadn’t been her fault—it had been his irresponsibility. He’d broken his own rules, he hadn’t played safe—and he should have stopped fooling with her a week ago.

‘I’m sorry, Bella.’ He met her gaze squarely. ‘I should never have put you in danger.’ He didn’t want to treat her badly, and he probably would have.

‘I put myself there too, remember?’ She looked away, stood. ‘I think I’ll go to bed. I’m a bit tired.’

He stood too. ‘You OK? Comfortable? Need a painkiller or anything?’

She shook her head, a sad smile twisting her lips. He knew what she was wondering—if he felt the same about this baby-that-wasn’t, if he had the same antipathy towards the idea. But he couldn’t answer her, couldn’t bear to think on it because it was hurting him more than he’d ever thought it could. And what hurt more was the realisation that she’d been right. He was a coward.

He watched her go. For the first time feeling as if he’d missed out on everything.

It had started out as the party from hell. The house had been tiny. The wind had meant there was no way they could be outside. The stereo system had failed. And there had been the most hideous boyfriend of one of the mothers who’d hit on Bella before she’d even got all the way up the path.