Josh wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her hard on the lips. “We’re okay, yeah?”
“Of course. Now go.” She dazzled him with her best fake smile. He didn’t seem to notice it wasn’t real. He turned and ran down the stairs. The best sound Caroline had heard all day was the slam of her front door behind him.
Caroline dragged herself through to the bedroom and fell on her back on the bed. Her hands covered her face as she let out a long, mournful groan. Forget jail.
Her lying backside was going straight to hell.
“You don’t need to sleep on the couch.” Helen eyed the king-sized bed. “We can make this work for the next few weeks.”
“I’m taking the couch.” Andrew nodded to the tiny two-seater sofa by the window.
Helen felt her throat tighten. Did he hate her so much that he’d rather sleep upright than share a bed with her again?
“I’m sure we can manage in the bed.”
“I’ll find another room if you don’t want me on the couch.”
“Mitch said the other rooms were full of junk.”
He grunted. She wasn’t sure what that meant. She felt tension wind its way up her spine to her neck. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from talking. Years of asking questions and getting no reply had taught her that it was pointless. But she felt angry. Angrier than she had in years. She turned to her husband, the stranger she’d married. He was standing inside the doorway, looking at the bed as though it would bite him. His hands were wedged deep into those awful tartan pants of his, and he was hunched over as though he was trying not to be there at all.
Something inside Helen snapped, and she opened her mouth. “What does that mean?” His eyebrows shot up. “What did that grunt mean? I don’t speak grunting. I speak American. You need to translate. Does it mean you’re sleeping in the bed or not?”
He took a slight step back towards the door. She was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that he’d done it. Subconsciously, the man was retreating. Running. As he usually did. She put her hands on the hips of her yellow flowered sundress, the one that clashed with her hair, and waited.
“Well?”
He shuffled on the spot. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to share the bed.”
The look he gave her was unfathomable. Helen felt bile bite at the back of her throat. After thirty-five years, he couldn’t even share a bed with her for one more month.
“Fine. Take the couch.” She stomped towards him and picked up his bag, which was beside the bed. “But you’re not taking this one.” She swung her arm and launched the bag out of the room and down the stairs. “Sleep downstairs. That way you won’t have to look at me at all.” Then she shoved him hard, making him stumble into the hallway, before slamming the door behind him.
For a minute or more, she stared at the door while tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d shouted. Ever since boarding the plane to Scotland, things had been bubbling out of her. Things she’d tried to contain for too many long years. At last she heard him make his way down the stairs after his bag. Helen sniffed and blinked away the tears. She wasn’t going to cry. Not again.
She slipped into the en suite bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. In the mirror she saw a face changed with age that she didn’t recognise. She felt her chest tighten. Something had to give. Something had to change. She rooted around in her makeup bag and came out with a pair of scissors. Without giving it a second thought, she started to snip off her shoulder-length hair.
There was no break-in at the castle. The person who’d made the call had either been mistaken, or it was a prank. The cop who’d walked around the exterior with Josh and Mitch was not pleased that it had turned out to be nothing. He’d been in the middle of watching a football game and wanted to get back to it. He left muttering about locking up the moron who’d interrupted his viewing.
“Your parents are here.” Mitch ran his fingers through his hair.
“That explains the look.” Josh pointed at Mitch’s face.
They walked to the back of the castle and through the door into the kitchen. Without asking, Mitch opened the fridge and got beers for both of them. Josh was hungry again, so he went poking around in the cupboards for snacks.
“Your parents are pissed.” Mitch sat sprawled in an armchair by the windows. He looked frazzled. Josh could identify with that.
“Figures.” Josh threw his friend a bag of chips. Mitch snatched them out of the air. “They weren’t too impressed with the marriage plan when I called them.”
“They’re fighting as well. Your dad is asleep on the couch.”
Josh cocked an eyebrow. That was new. “They fighting about the wedding?”
Mitch shook his head. He took a swallow of beer. “I heard something about them sleeping in separate beds and your dad not talking. Then I ran. I do not want to get in the middle of a McInnes meltdown.”
“It’s probably nothing. You know what Dad is like. Mom’s probably fed up listening to her own voice. It’ll pass.”
Mitch didn’t look so sure. “What about you and the delectable Caroline? How are things going there? No regrets?”