Her eyes seem to swim in the lights of the pool, and I feel a tightness in my chest I can’t comprehend.
‘I asked you first...’
She laughs but it’s awkward, panicked, even. I close the distance between us and she straightens and turns away to look at the view beyond the pool.
‘My family are pretty full-on,’ I say softly.
Yes, blame the family, it’s so much easier than blaming yourself.
‘Si?’
She flicks me a look. Her smile is weak, her shrug too, and I can’t bear it. But what can I do, what can I say?
‘I like it,’ she says. ‘It’s nice to be part of something big, something whole. I have no one except for my father now. My parents were only children—no siblings, no cousins, no grandparents left. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be part of something more...’
‘You really don’t; it’s a pain in the—’ I stop. It’s not the time to tease or joke or to make light of her situation. ‘I’m sorry.’
I reach for her before I can stop myself, my palm soft on her lower back as I wait for her to look at me. And when she does, my throat closes over at the sadness in her eyes. It’s all the more painful for the smile she still tries to give.
I cup her jaw, stroke her cheek and stare down into her eyes. ‘I guess it’s too easy to take family for granted when you have one.’
She turns her head into my palm, closes her eyes and breathes in softly. I don’t speak. I can’t. I’m lost in that look, the way she appears to take comfort from the touch, even when I’ve played the fool.
‘They’re a good bunch,’ she says eventually, her lashes lifting, her eyes meeting mine.
‘And you—you have a good heart and deserve more.’
‘I...’ She lets out a small sigh. ‘That’s nice of you to say.’
I replay the words and my intention. I mean she deserves to have a big family to love and be loved in return. Instead, I’m thinking of me and her; I’m thinking of Dante, of all the other men out there that she could spend her time with, better men than me. And then I remember Dante’s revelation about her marriage. She had a man who promised to love her and then...what?
‘Faye.’ I wet my lips, my frown impossible to prevent. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were married?’
She starts. And I can’t blame her when my question seems to come from nowhere.
‘I’m not.’
‘I mean, before...’
She steps out of my hold, her eyes going back to the view, her arms hugging her middle as she cradles her wine glass in one hand. ‘It didn’t seem important. It wasn’t... It’s not like this is serious between us.’
Her eyes flit in my direction, assessing my response, and I know I’m impassive and doing everything I can not to show the confused state of my feelings. Because I don’t want to confuse her. I don’t want her to think that this is something more. Something serious. Something with any longevity. I’m not that man. And one whirlwind fling isn’t going to change that, no matter how impassioned, how intense...
‘It’s hardly like we’re dating.’ She’s trying to tease now, the jovial tone to her voice at odds with her rigid posture and her sad smile.
‘No.’ She’s right. We’re not, and I need to acknowledge it, but in the same breath... ‘I don’t know, though. It feels like something I should have known.’
?
??There’s nothing for you to know. Not really. Bobby and I met at uni and married soon after. It didn’t work out.’
‘What went wrong?’ And why are you even asking when it only brings you closer together?
But it seems I can’t let it go. I want to understand. I want to know how a man could have the desire and good sense to commit to her and then let her go.
She drags in a breath and blows it out. ‘We were young and we were busy so much of the time. We had five good years, pursuing our careers. We worked in the same role for the same company and our sales sent us all over the world. We saw each other two weeks in every four and then I got promoted. It pushed me to the top of the ladder...above him.’
‘And he didn’t like it?’