‘It was Lucy’s birthday,’ he says softly. ‘I think it’s fair to say I wasn’t in a good headspace.’
‘That night...’ I look over his shoulder, my throat thick and tasting acrid. ‘You used me to forget her.’ My eyes sweep shut. I can’t bear this anymore. ‘I thought you were there to see me.’
He takes advantage of my temporary weakness to push the door inwards, to catch my face with his hands and hold me steady, and then he kisses me as though his whole life has come down to this moment.
As though it is the most important thing he’s ever done.
He kisses me with hot, fiery need and I sob in my throat as I kiss him back—but only for a second. And then my hands are on his chest, pushing him, and my back is against the wall, holding me upright as my breath is dragged out of me. He stares at me for a moment and then pushes the door shut. The flowers are discarded once more, but inside now, nestling against my shoes.
‘You said you love me.’
He says it like a challenge. A cold line of truth that I can’t take back.
‘Yeah. I remember. I was there.’
His eyes narrow at my sarcastic retort. ‘And? Is it true?’
I screw my face up and drop my head into my hands. ‘Fuck you, Jack.’
He grabs me by the wrists, pulling my hands away so he can see my face, and he’s so close that I take comfort from his body even when I know I shouldn’t. When I know I should be demanding he get out of my house.
‘Because I’ve been thinking about love, and how it’s not something you can just walk out on.’ He pauses, perhaps waiting for his words to sink in. ‘You think you love me? Prove it.’
I suck in a breath and lift my eyes to his face. He’s stroking my wrists, his strong legs straddling me. Without him and the wall I think I’d slide to the floor.
‘Don’t walk away from me.’
‘Why should I stay?’ I whisper, the words coloured by a thousand shades of sadness. ‘You told me in black-and-white terms there’s no future. I can’t be with you. I sure as hell can’t work for you.’
He nods, but his hand lifts and strokes my cheek. ‘When I met Lucy I fell in love with her straightaway.’
I spin my head away, twisting it to the side, hurting as though he’s punched me in the gut. The pain is no less intense. I want to shove him away from me, but there’s such earnestness in his voice, and I am obviously such a glutton for punishment that I stay, my mind absorbing the fact that the man I am hopelessly in love with is now telling me about his wife.
‘But it was partly a selfish love. I loved her because she needed me. She made me feel like I was her entire world and I was addicted to that.’
His eyes hold mine, staring deep into my soul. I am exposed and self-conscious, because I find it hard to feel anything but resentment for his poor late wife.
‘I wanted to save her. She needed me and I thought that was what love was. I didn’t know it could be so different.’
The words form a crack. In my certainty and in my heart. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I feel like someone has cut inside me and excavated the very middle of my chest.’ He grabs my hand and holds it against him. ‘I’m empty here. I wake up and I can’t believe I have to get through another day without you.’
His eyes probe mine deeper, deeper, watching and waiting.
‘It’s been three days. I can’t do another one without you. I don’t know when you became my reason for being, Gemma, but you are.’
Tears are burning my throat. I look away again, swallowing, hurting, hoping. But my brain won’t let me be such a fool. Not again.
‘It’s just good sex,’ I say stonily.
‘I’ve had good sex,’ he dismisses with deep-voiced urgency. ‘I know the difference between that and what we are.’
My cheeks flush pink and I shake my head. ‘You think that now because you didn’t expect me to leave you. I believe you miss me. I believe you miss fucking me. I believe you miss me at work. But none of that is love.’
I force myself to meet his eyes and am instantly burned by the lie I’ve just told. Because I love him enough for both of us.
‘How can you say that?’