Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“I do. Because I wouldn’t have given up on us.”

“So why did you?” She anchored the strands of hair with her fingers. “If you really cared that much, why didn’t you come after me?”

“I called your number. Left about a thousand messages. You chose not to return a single one of them.” And that, for him, had been almost the worst part. Not just that she wouldn’t talk to him, but that she hadn’t thought, or cared, that he was hurting, too.

“That’s not true.” She shook her head, puzzled. “I didn’t get any calls.”

“Well, I know for sure I didn’t dial a wrong number.”

She was silent for a moment, thinking. “For the first few weeks after I left the hospital, I wasn’t very well.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Physically? There were complications?”

“Yes. I had an infection. My temperature was sky-high. I was out of it for a while.”

“You had to tell your family you’d lost the baby?”

“I didn’t tell them. The doctor who treated me kept it confidential. But it was the lowest point of my life. I’d lost you. The baby. And on top of that Dad used the fact that we’d broken up to remind me that I was useless and no sane person would want me. He said you’d obviously finally come to your senses.”

Seth felt the anger rip through him. “But when you recovered, didn’t you check your phone?”

“Yes, but there were no messages.”

Seth cursed under his breath. “He must have deleted them.” Why hadn’t that possibility occurred to him? The answer, quite simply, was that his own experience was so different he’d always been one step behind.

“He never told me you called, and I took the fact that you didn’t as confirmation of everything I already believed. That the marriage was a mistake.”

And behind the scenes she’d had her father endorsing that. There was a horrible logic to it all.

“And I was hurt that you wouldn’t turn to me. That you were keeping me at a distance. Trust, closeness—those things are fundamental in a marriage. The fact that you didn’t turn to me told me you didn’t trust me. That you didn’t feel close enough to be able to share your low moments with me.” And he’d let his own stubborn pride and grief stop him thinking clearly. He’d allowed people to persuade him that the best thing was to move on. He’d allowed other people to influence his decisions.

“Even if we had talked, the truth is I didn’t know how to open up. Even if I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have dared do it.”

“If you didn’t trust me, then that was on me.”

“No, it was on me.” She sounded tired. “I don’t know how to have the sort of relationship you just described. I don’t recognize it. You learned about trust and love by watching your parents. Want to know what I learned from watching mine? How to protect yourself. How to make sure I was never exposed. I learned that if I kept my feelings to myself, no one could use them against me. I learned that emotions make you vulnerable, and that expressing them makes you even more so. I didn’t learn how not to be hurt, but I learned how to hide the fact that I was hurt.” She paused. “You were right about that night at the beach, when we had sex. I was upset.”

“Because your father had shown up unexpectedly.”

“He said some pretty awful things, and I ran out of the house.”

“You’re implying I was a bandage? That we never would have had sex if you hadn’t been upset?”

“No, but you’re an honorable man, Seth. You always were. And then when I told you about the baby and you told me that getting married was the only solution, I took advantage of the fact that you were honorable. I should have said no.”

“You assume I was being honorable. Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe,” he said slowly, “I didn’t want to let you go and the baby provided a convenient excuse.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as if that possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Whatever it was, it’s all history now.”

Not to him. “Did you miss me? This last ten years, did you think about me?” He’d put her on the spot. Cornered her, and he saw the brief flash of panic in her eyes and heard the uneven snatch of her breath.

“Ten years is a long time. I barely thought about you.”

“You think you’re an expert at hiding your feelings, but you’re not as good as you think, Felicity Knight.” Or maybe he knew her better than either of them thought. He had a feeling she might find that knowledge scarier than his question.

“I don’t see the point on dwelling on the past.”

“Agreed. Which is why we’re going to focus on the present.”