The rules were there for a reason.
It was a very short meeting, and not at all sweet. He wanted assurances that his perfect life wasn’t about to end soon, that Celeste wasn’t suddenly going to change her mind and come knocking—an assurance she was only too happy to provide!
‘What will you tell Willow?’ he asked diffidently.
‘The truth.’ Celeste looked at him coolly. ‘Probably a nicer version of it. I’ll miss out the bit where you offered to pay for an abortion—but she’ll grow up with the truth. And when she’s old enough, what she does with that truth will be her decision, Dean.’
Then there was nothing else to say, nothing at all, so she didn’t bother. Just stood up and walked out of the café and took a big breath and then another one.
Until finally she blew the last one out and let him go.
Then Celeste put one foot in front of the other and did it again, just kept on putting one foot in front of the other, which meant she was walking.
Walking away and getting on with the rest of her life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘WHAT’S GOING ON, Belinda?’ It took till five on Monday to talk to Belinda. All day she’d been avoiding him and, clearly thinking he’d already gone home, she walked into the office and did an about-turn, but Ben halted her.
‘Nothing.’
‘I need to know why you didn’t answer your pager on Friday night.’
‘I’m sorry about that. I honestly felt so unwell, I just...’
‘Belinda, I covered for you, but I’m not going to be fobbed off,’ he warned.
‘He’s still married.’ Belinda crumpled as she admitted it. ‘I found out on Saturday night...that multi-trauma...’
Ben frowned.
‘It was his son.’
‘Oh, Belinda.’
‘I rang his number but ended up speaking to his wife...I recognised the surname, then she called him to the phone...’ She could barely get the words out for crying. ‘I just couldn’t stay in the department and see him, face her. You think I’d be used to it by now...’
‘Used to what?’
‘Being let down.’ He could scarcely believe the change in her from the confident, outgoing woman he’d first met. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Embarrassed?’ he asked, bewildered.
‘I just feel like a fool,’ Belinda admitted. ‘I knew he was busy, I made so many excuses for him—he was at work, or with the kids... I guess I just gave him a million and one reasons to justify why he could only give me such a little bit of his time.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Ben said, and it wasn’t Celeste’s fault either—if the stunning, streetwise Belinda could be taken in, what chance had Celeste had? ‘You were just...’ he gave an uncomfortable shrug as analysing emotions was not his strongest point ‘...trying to be happy...’
‘Like we all are,’ Belinda said. ‘Only we just end up hurting a whole lot of people along the way.’ She took a gulp of her coffee. ‘I feel such a fool,’ she said again despairingly.
‘He’s the fool,’ Ben insisted.
‘That’s not how it feels from here.’ She gave a watery smile. ‘I’ll be okay... I just need to lie low for a bit, lick my wounds...’
‘I can imagine.’
‘But I’ll get there.’ Belinda blew out a breath. ‘Get back out there soon...’
Ben realised he would never understand some people—never get how someone who had been so hurt could, in such a short time, be talking about getting back out there, laying their hearts on the line, only to have them broken again.
Why?
Except he suspected he was starting to know the answer. It was he who was the fool—he worked that one out as he drove home that evening.
There were all these people out there, searching for happiness, trying not to be lonely, and he’d had it right there, not once, but twice, right there for the taking.
He’d just been too scared of getting hurt again to move on and take what was on offer.
He had wanted a world that came with iron-clad guarantees—and because that was impossible, well, he’d stepped right off the planet. Made some half-hearted attempt to move on with his life—only by his safe rules. He’d rather have sex than a relationship, and the more meaningless the better, because then you didn’t get hurt. And no children or feelings involved either, please, because that could hurt too. As could biological fathers that might pop up...
Only being lonely hurt more than the risk of loving.
And now he’d lost her too.
He got stuck in his street as a small rental truck pulled out of the units—his big black bird swooping down and taking her away. He could see her car in her drive and knew she was inside her flat, organising the moving of her stuff over to her parents’ house in preparation for the coming weekend. If she went to live with her parents, he knew he had lost her for ever.
He finally realised that this was his moment.
That this moment was all anyone had.
And he had to start living in it. He took a deep breath and headed for her door.
* * *
‘It’s not a good time, Ben.’
He could hear Willow’s cries as she went to close the door on him.
‘I need to talk to you.’
‘And I need to feed my baby!’ She opened the door, her face angry. ‘So I hope you can stomach being in the same room as her as you say whatever it is that you have to.’
Willow’s screams were louder and louder as they walked through her tiny unit. Everything that was them was gone—the crib, the flowers, the throw rugs, the ironing board by the wall. Just the drab furniture remained and as he followed her through the place, the kitchen was empty, except for a kettle and a jug and a bottle warming.
‘It’s coming, Willow...’ He could hear the strain in her voice as she tried to keep it light for her baby. ‘The microwave’s gone with the removal...’ He watched as she tested the bottle on her wrist then placed it back in the water, and then she snapped, ‘I’m just going to feed her and then I’ll be gone. I’ve decided to go before the weekend. There’s no point hanging around now.’
‘Don’t go.’
‘Just what the hell do you want, Ben?’ she asked wearily.
‘You.’
‘Well, sorry, but I’m already taken...’ Even though she was in the lounge, Celeste had to shout over Willow’s screams. ‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’
‘I don’t want it any other way,’ he said desperately.
‘She isn’t going to go away, Ben. I’m not going to pretend she doesn’t exist so we can sleep together a couple of times a week!’
‘I want Willow too...’ She had no idea how hard that was for him to say, no idea of the terror of that admission, so she scorned him instead.
‘Oh, so you’ll tolerate her so you can have her mother.’
‘No, I’ll try harder. I want her too,’ he said again.
‘Just leave it, Ben!’
‘Jen was pregnant when she died.’ Real pain demanded respect. Real pain could be felt and heard and acknowledged, even if we don’t know how, because even Willow fell silent. ‘About the same stage as you when you had Willow.’
‘You should have told me,’ Celeste said, shocked.
‘How?’ Ben shook his head. ‘It’s not something you just slip into the conversation—and especially being pregnant yourself...’ he gave a thin smile ‘...you didn’t need to hear it.’
‘No.’ She admitted the truth of that. She’d been struggling enough as it was.
‘I wanted to tell you after you had Willow...but...I lost my baby, Celeste, and I couldn’t do it to you. Give you that fear that you might lose yours too.’
‘How?’
‘A subarachnoid haemorrhage. Just like that.’ He clapped his hands and it made her jump, but it seemed appropriate. She’d learnt about them at uni—a sudden, severe, thunderclap headache—and she felt like crying except it wasn’t her place to right now. ‘I came home and found her...’ And then he corrected himself, because it wasn’t really Jen that was the problem, he had loved and lost her and would miss her for ever, but in that he had moved on—had almost reached that place of acceptance, just not quite. ‘No, I came home and found them.
‘She was buried inside Jen and I never got to hold her and I never really got to mourn her—and I don’t know how to start.’
‘You just did.’
He nodded, screwed his eyes closed and pressed his fingers against them as, dizzy with images, like a roundabout, he willed it to stop.
‘Tell me,’ she implored.