“You guys need to leave,” he said to them both as he stood, nearly toppling Jonas from his perch on the armrest. “I have a very long flight ahead of me.”
* * *
Melbourne welcomed Tilda in much the same manner as it had seen her off—with little fanfare. Of course, she’d sneaked away to the US without telling anyone but her mum and had landed at Tullamarine upon her return as quietly as possible.
No point in stirring the pot. She had enough on her plate, what with nursing a bruised heart and a job that she still had to do alongside a man she was trying to forget. Adding Bryan McDermott into the mix would not make things any better. But if he stayed true to form, he’d find out she was home soon enough.
Oddly, she was too numb to remember what it felt like to be so fearful of him. As the taxi drove down her mum’s quiet street, the only thing she could focus on was how much she did not want to be in Melbourne, but for far different reasons than the ones she’d expected.
She missed Warren. She’d fallen in love with his house, his smile, the way he held her hand as they slept because he’d somehow figured out she didn’t like waking up with his arm across her chest. But she liked being connected to him and he’d known that, as well. Somehow.
Too bad his sixth sense hadn’t extended beyond that. He obviously had no clue she’d fallen for him, and how she’d hidden it, she had no idea. But she’d pulled that off brilliantly, hadn’t she? He didn’t have to contend with a mess of a wife much longer.
Mum was waiting for her at the door, blubbering about how thin Tilda was, the pastiness of her complexion and a multitude of other sins that needed to be fixed right away, apparently.
“I’m fine, Mum.” Tilda dropped her bag in the entryway of the small clapboard house at the end of a neat row of similar houses. “I’m tired. I need to sleep.”
She had no idea what time it was or when she next had to be on the phone with Warren. Or how in the world she’d handle that when the time came. Melbourne wasn’t nearly far enough away to dull the ache that just thinking about him caused.
Falling into the bed located in the small guest bedroom, Tilda let her eyes drift shut, craving the oblivion. When she came to, it was midafternoon and Mum was nowhere to be found. The note on the dining room table said she’d gone to the market and would be back soon.
A knock came at the front door. For a half second, she hesitated—Warren’s staff opened the door, not the lady of the house. But she wasn’t the lady of any house anymore, and Warren was thousands of miles away. Blearily, Tilda crossed the small living room to answer it.
“Forget your key, Mum?” Tilda asked with a small smile as she swung open the door.
All the blood drained from her head. Bryan. Standing on her mother’s doorstep as if he had all the right in the world to be there. Struggling to breathe, she gulped air and tried to get her legs to move. Her arms. Something. Slam the door, her brain screamed. Shut it. Right now.
“Nice to see you, Tilda,” he said in that menacing voice she heard in her nightmares.
No! He couldn’t be here. Not so soon. How had he learned she was back so quickly? This was ten times worse than she’d ever imagined. He must have people at the airport. Or listening devices on her mother’s phone.
“I can’t say the same.”
Good. Okay. She could talk. She could breathe.
If she slammed the door in his face, would he break it down? She had to think. Distract him. Call someone.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” he said. “We have unfinished business.”
That put her back up. What was unfinished? He’d stripped her of everything, and only because she’d wanted her confidence back had she gone in search of it. Warren had given her that and so much more. He’d given her purpose. Meaning. The freedom to be herself.
Actually, Bryan was right. They did have unfinished business. “So, you’ve come to apologize?”
He blinked. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”
“A black eye? That’s the only thing that you’ll leave here with.”
Had that really just come out of her mouth? A quiet sense of pride joined the sick fuzzies in her stomach, nearly settling it at the same time.
Confidence. She knew what it felt like now and this was it. Bryan wasn’t stealing it from her again.
“Are you threatening me?” Bryan asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “If you so much as touch me, I’ll have you arrested. You know I can make your life miserable.”
She crossed her arms and leaned on the doorjamb, letting a small smile play about her mouth. “So, you’re saying you’d be willing to testify in a court of law that a woman half your size clocked you?”