‘Will you call her and tell her that yourself?’
Their eyes met and held. ‘I—I don’t want to upset her.’
‘You won’t,’ Jay said firmly.
Panic gripped her, squeezing her voice box so her words emerged tight and high when she said, ‘Jay, there has to be a cut-off point, you know that as well as I do. Neither of us needs complications…’ That hadn’t sounded right. ‘I don’t want to cause difficulties in your family.’
‘You’re my family, Miriam. Haven’t you realised that yet? Damn it, no one else—not even Jayne—impinges on us.’
For a second she drowned in the golden sea of his eyes, letting his words wash over her. She wanted to believe him more than anything else in the world, but she couldn’t.
Icy cold reality crashed in a wave over her head. ‘Jay, it’s over.’
‘Never in a hundred years.’ He leaned forward, his body warmth enveloping her as she sat rigid and still. ‘You’re my wife; I’ve never felt about any woman the way I feel about you.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t think about that before you got involved with Belinda.’
For a long moment his eyes assessed her, then she saw him breathe out slowly. ‘For such a soft, gentle little thing you’ve got a will of iron, haven’t you?’ he murmured wryly. ‘But you won’t win this one, Miriam. And do you know why? Because, at the very bottom of you, you don’t want to win. You know as well as I do that we were meant to be together.’
She looked into the hard, handsome face. He was deadly serious. The strong planes of his jaw, the determined thrust to his chin were evidence that he meant every word. Almost imperceptibly, she held herself straighter. ‘Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want,’ she said very clearly.
She saw the flash of surprise in his eyes. ‘Can you deny it?’
She wanted to shout at him, to pour all the hurt and anger and betrayal over his head in a bitter, acidic flood of hate, but that would be playing straight into his hands. She wouldn’t let him see how she was hurting; she’d rather walk on hot coals. And she wouldn’t make a scene, much as she would have loved to throw the rest of her cocktail into his face and march out of the restaurant.
Miriam took a deep breath. ‘I want a divorce,’ she said expressionlessly. ‘That’s the only reason I’ve come here tonight. You can believe me or choose to think there’s still something between us—it doesn’t matter in the long run.’
The words hung between them before falling like pieces of ice, the muted chatter from the other tables and soft music that was playing on the perimeter of their world for two.
‘You’ve changed.’ It wasn’t laudatory.
‘Yes, I have.’ She marvelled at the calmness of her voice, considering how she was trembling inside. ‘I’m no longer the foolish young woman who married you. Who believed you when you said we’d grow old together, have children, grandchildren…’
‘You were never foolish, Miriam,’ he said quietly. ‘Wary, unsure—just how unsure I’ve only come to appreciate in the last months. I thought when I gave you the space you said you needed you’d work things out for yourself but I hadn’t bargained for how deep the hurt over your father had gone. You don’t trust men, do you? Any men. Not even me.’
Especially not you. Her chin rose. ‘In other words our separation is all my fault? You’re whiter than white, I suppose?’
‘I’ve never been whiter than white.’ He smiled rue-fully.
Miriam stared at him, wondering how he could smile when her body was so tense it hurt. I can’t deal with this, she thought suddenly. I need to leave. I have to get out before I make a fool of myself.
As the thought hit the waiter reappeared like a genie out of a bottle. ‘If you would care to follow me, your table is ready,’ he said smoothly, whisking their half-finished drinks onto the small round tray he was carrying and then preceding them out of the lounge and into the main restaurant.
Miriam had no choice but to follow as Jay stood to his feet and took her arm. She glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but his face was wearing the cool, remote mask he could adopt at will. He obviously didn’t want her to know what he was feeling.
Once seated at a table for two, Miriam glanced round the glittering room. It was elegant and chic, the quiet hum of conversation from the assembled diners and the light, easy music from the quartet in a corner of the restaurant making a pleasant background to a meal.
Jay’s eyes were tight on her when her gaze came to rest on him. ‘I’ve missed evenings with you like this,’ he murmured softly. ‘Along with evenings at home, of course, Sunday mornings in bed with the papers, waking up together, walks on the heath—’
‘Don’t, Jay.’
‘Why?’ He swallowed the last of his cocktail. ‘It’s the truth, and if I can’t say it to my wife, who can I say it to?’
‘Your current girlfriend?’ Miriam suggested, as much to see his reaction as anything else.
‘I don’t have a girlfriend, Miriam.’ Jay’s smile said he knew what she was about. ‘I’m married, remember?’
‘It’s not me who has forgotten that.’