This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

He leans over me. ‘You shouldn’t be here. Why are you here?’ Jesse’s voice is broken and shaky, as is his body. I can feel the vibrations seeping into my back. ‘It’s Amalie’s wedding weekend in Seville. Why are you here?’

Realisation dawns. I didn’t read far enough into the invite to note a date or location, but Jesse obviously did. Why else would he bring me here, unless he knew his parents would be gone? But they are here. And it’s sent Jesse spiralling into turmoil.

‘It’s your father,’ she begins. ‘The wedding, it got postponed because your father had a heart attack. Amalie tried to get in touch after you never replied to her wedding invite.’

Jesse’s chest presses into mine, and I know he’s going to speak, which is good because I can think of nothing to say. I’m struck dumb. This is information overload. ‘So tell me why Amalie tried to contact me? Why not you?’

‘I thought you would answer your sister.’ she replies quickly. ‘I was hoping you would answer you sister’s calls.’

‘Well you were wrong!’ he roars over my shoulder, making me wince. ‘You don’t get to do this to me. No more, Mum. Your influence already f**ked my life up, and now I’m making it right all on my own!’

She flinches, but she doesn’t defend herself. Her green eyes—just like Jesse’s—are all clouded and desperate. So many thoughts are racing through my brain, but my priority is Jesse and his obvious distress.

‘Twins,’ his mom whispers, reaching forward with her hand.

I freeze. I can’t move. Her eyes are studying my stomach, and I see pain etched all over her wrinkled face. I’m pulled back, just avoiding a skimming of her hand on my tummy. It snaps me from my daze and makes me reassess the situation. It doesn’t take long. I need to get Jesse away.

‘Ava,’ His voice has softened in my ear. ‘Please, get me out of here.’

My heart splits straight down the middle. ‘I’m asking you nicely.’ I look at his mother, whose eyes are still focused on my midriff. ‘Please move.’

‘It’s another chance, Jesse.’ She’s sobbing now, but I don’t feel any sympathy for her. Jesse doesn’t speak. He remains still and quiet behind me. I think he might have fallen into a trance, and I’m not at all surprised. Those few words have only heightened my determination and turned my building tears into pure anger. I can’t lash out at his mother, though.

I turn and slide my hand onto Jesse’s arm. ‘Come on,’ I say softly, tugging at his arm. He lets me take him. I’m guiding him for once, and I make fast work of it. I’m determined to remove my husband from this situation which is causing him anguish. I’ve only ever seen him like this a handful of times and every one of those times has ended in heartache. I’m not prepared to set him or myself up for any further difficulties in our relationship.

I open the passenger door and gently guide him in, while he stares blankly at the thin air in front of him. I’m more than relieved when I see Jesse’s mum come around the front of the car because it means I can hurry around the back and jump in the driver’s seat. The first thing I do is locate the door locks and flick the switch before I search Jesse for the keys. I’ve never driven on the wrong side of the road before, or on the wrong side of the car, but now is not the time to get myself in a panic over something so trivial. I start the DBS up and barely look behind me as I reverse carelessly out of the space before whacking it into first and pulling away a little more cautiously. I chance a look in the rear view mirror and see a man taking Jesse’s mum in his arms. His dad.

My eyes do a quick check of the road ahead, noting the exit gates, but I don’t have a chance to panic about finding the card that will open them. They shift automatically and I’m getting further away from Jesse’s parents by the second. I glance at him, and I don’t like what I see—a troubled man, staring blankly out of the window, showing no emotion. If he was angry I would feel better, but he’s not. The only familiarity is the deep crevice across his brow and the cogs of his complex mind spinning out of control. Strangely, these little traits offer me some comfort. What he could be thinking about, however, does not.

Another chance? That’s what she said. I can’t blame Jesse for his meltdown, not when his mother has just suggested that everything can be righted by the birth of his own twins. That’s cruel and selfish, and it will never make up for the years of sorrow and betrayal that have come before.

These babies and I are Jesse’s chance at happiness, not his parent’s opportunity to right all of their wrongs. If she intends on using my babies as some sort of family therapy, then she can think again.

* * *

I have no idea where I’m going, but I just about manage to coax directions from Jesse. The familiar fragrance of Paradise finally has me relaxing completely as I make my way up the cobbled driveway to the villa. He gets out of the car and strides towards the veranda, leaving me to follow tentatively behind. I don’t know what to do. I know we won’t be talking, so I need to do what instinct is telling me and that’s to just be there for him. Not fish for information to ease my own inquisitive mind, or stamp my feet and demand answers. I already know what I need to. I know Jesse’s parents have influenced his life too much. Now he’s making it right all on his own, just like he said, and I need to let him do that.

Following him into the villa, I find him standing in the middle of the room. I’m quiet as I approach behind him, but he doesn’t flinch when I slide my hand into his. He knew I was close, as he always does. I lead him into the bedroom and start to unbutton his shirt. There is no sexual tension ricocheting between us, or heavy desperate breaths. I’m just looking after him.