Page 51 of Journey to You
Silently cursing his hasty response, he turned away and busied himself with getting cups ready.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he swivelled to face her, trying not to slam the cups onto the bar.
“I’ve never seen you this upset, even after he died.” He had time to swallow his words, clamp down on the urge to blurt exactly what he was thinking. But nothing would be the same after this so why not tell her the truth? Go for broke? “Yet here you are, wishing that child was yours?”
He shook his head and poured milk into a stainless steel jug for frothing to avoid looking at her shattered expression. “I don’t get it. I’ve just learned a friend I thought I knew had a mistress and a kid with her, and I hate him for it. Yet here you are, still affected by him. Makes me wonder why.”
When she didn’t respond, he glanced up, the emerald fire in her eyes surprising him. She’d gone from quivering victim to furious in a second.
“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you think? You seem to have it all figured out.”
He didn’t deserve her anger, Richard did, and, having her turn on him when she should be turning to him lit a fuse to his smouldering discontent.
“Fine. You want to know what I think?” His palms slammed onto the bar as he leaned towards her. “I think Richard has left a lasting legacy. I think you’re so hung up on the guy you can’t get past him, maybe you never will. And I think as long as you let your past rule you this way, you won’t have the future you deserve.”
Derision curled her upper lip, her eyes blazing, but not before he’d seen the pain as he scored a direct hit.
“What future is that? With you?”
She made it sound like she’d rather change that baby’s diapers than be with him and he turned away, anguish stabbing him.
He had his answer.
She’d confirmed every doubt he’d ever had.
He’d never live up to King Richard in her heart.
“This place has been a safe haven for me lately. Not anymore.” Her heels clacked against the floorboards as she marched to the table, scooped up her bag and headed for the door.
He watched her in the mirror, his heart fracturing, splintering, with every step she took.
He could’ve called out, stopped her, run after her.
Instead, he watched the woman he loved walk out the door.
Twenty-Five
The drive down the Eastlink Freeway passed in a blur. Tamara had been on auto pilot ever since she’d stormed out ofAmbrosia, hellbent on putting the past behind her once and for all.
Ethan was wrong. Dead wrong.
About everything.
Though something he’d said registered: she had no hope of moving forward unless she confronted her past, and that’s why she was here in peaceful, oceanside, Cape Schanck, clenching a rumpled piece of paper in her hand.
She stared at the address written in a woman’s flowing script, her heart pounding as she glared at the beautiful beach house.
Richard had been careful to hide his infidelity from her while he’d been alive but she’d found this scrap in an old wallet in the back of his wardrobe after he died. She’d been clearing out his stuff, donating his designer suits to charity, and had come across it.
At the time, she hadn’t cared what it meant, but later, when she’d discovered his private appointment diary detailing every sordid detail, along with a stack of emails and texts complete with photos, it all made sense.
His beach house in Cape Schanck was a haven for his gold-digging mistress.
And their illegitimate baby.
She blinked several times, determined not to cry. She had to do this, had to get on with her life before the bitterness and anger threatened to consume her again and there was no way she’d go back to living the way she had been before India.