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‘A bit too rich for me,’ was her verdict on the Sachertorte, ‘but the coffee’s fantastic.’
After breakfast, they headed back through the main streets.
‘I can’t believe how pretty it is here,’ Polly said at the corner of Stefansplatz. She gestured to the gothic cathedral with its distinctive roof. ‘Just look at that, the way the spire’s so sharp against the sky.’
Liam had almost forgotten how much he loved Vienna, the wide streets and the incredible architecture and the art installations everywhere. Seeing it with Polly made him see it through fresh eyes.
‘You’re not the only one who likes it.’ He pointed out the artists who were painting street scenes, with racks of pictures for sale set up by their easels.
A string quartet dressed in eighteenth-century costume was playing Mozart.
‘Can we stop and listen for a while?’ Polly asked.
‘Sure.’ And that was the other thing Liam loved about Vienna: the sound. The city of music. No out-of-tune buskers, here: whether they were string quartets or jazz trios or opera singers, they were all note-perfect.
They lingered until the piece ended, enjoying the music. And then the quartet started playing ‘The Blue Danube’.
A waltz.
Liam glanced at Polly. Dancing in public would mean that she’d have to fake it. And that would make sure the physical awkwardness between them was gone before they went back to training. ‘Recognise the tempo?’
Her eyes went wide as she guessed what he meant. ‘We can’t.’
‘Sure we can. It’s Vienna. People expect it.’
‘But … ‘
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the steps again?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I have not.’
‘Dare you.’
She held his gaze, and he knew she’d guessed he was calling her on something else. Then she nodded. ‘You’re on.’
Two seconds later, they were in hold and were waltzing along the wide street. Polly didn’t miss a step, to his relief, doing the turns perfectly and keeping in time with the quartet. The tourists who’d stopped to listen to the music moved back slightly, giving them space to dance.
Everything faded for him except Polly and the music. Dancing to the slow, regular beat of the old tune. The rise and fall of their steps. Whirling her round, his leg sliding between hers and hers between his as they turned. Just like last night in the candlelit ballroom, when she’d looked up at him, those gorgeous brown eyes huge, and he’d dipped his head to kiss her.
It was too much for him to resist. He lowered his mouth to hers, his body on automatic pilot as he led her through the steps. His mouth was tingling where his lips touched hers—and then she kissed him back, her mouth sweet and responsive, making him feel as if they were dancing on air instead of in a wide, bustling boulevard.
It was a while before Liam realised that the music had stopped and people were clapping.
And he was still kissing Polly. Dancing to music that existed entirely in his head.
He slowed his steps to a halt and pulled back, noting the glitter in Polly’s eyes and the hectic flush on her cheeks.
‘Sorry,’ he mouthed. Even though he wasn’t.
‘Bravo,’ one of the onlookers called.
What else could he do but brazen it out? He bowed, and stood back as Polly dipped into a curtsey.
Dancing, he thought, could fix almost anything.
Except Polly’s reservations. Because as soon as she stood straight again, all her barriers were back in place. Her eyes were filled with panic. And he didn’t have a clue how to reassure her, because he was in exactly the same state.
They checked out of the hotel and took the train back to the airport to catch their flight. She was quiet all the way home, clearly brooding, and Liam had no idea how to reach her. All he could do, back in London, was to insist on seeing her home, right to her front door.
‘Thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever get the waltz. And what you did, setting up the ballroom like that … that was special.’
‘Pleasure.’
She looked at him. ‘I owe you an explanation. About …’ She glanced down at her wrists.
Was that what she’d been worrying about, rather than the growing physical and emotional awareness between them? ‘It’s OK. You don’t owe me anything.’
‘Do you want to come in, um, for a glass of wine?’
He had a feeling that this was Polly’s way of telling him she was ready to talk. And maybe what had happened with her wrists was the key to whatever was holding her back. Maybe if he understood that, he could make some sense of this whole thing between them. ‘OK. That’d be good,’ he said lightly.
She let them into her flat, dropped her bag in the hallway, ushered him into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine. Then she took a deep breath. ‘Those scars are because I cut my wrists when I was fifteen.’ She looked away. ‘God, even saying it aloud makes me feel so ashamed.’
He’d already worked that out for himself, because she couldn’t look him in the eye.
‘I don’t know how close you are to your family,’ she said.
‘On and off,’ he admitted. ‘They’d all rather I had what they call a sensible job, and they drove me crazy after the accident because they thought it was their chance to get me back on the straight and narrow. But they’ve come to accept that dancing’s a big part of who I am—the better part. Although they’re still not wonderfully happy about it, they’re finally off my case about my job.’
That made her meet his eyes again. She looked shocked. ‘But aren’t they proud of you? Of all you’ve achieved, of the way you’ve made millions of people see beauty—the stuff you’ve choreographed for other people to dance, as well as the stuff you dance yourself?’
‘In their own way, I suppose they are. And I guess it could’ve been worse. I don’t think my dad could’ve handled it if I’d wanted to dance ballet. Billy Elliott, eat your heart out. Though I’m just as bad. I pushed everyone away after the accident.’ He paused. ‘So is this your way of saying you’re not close to your family?’
‘I’m an only child,’ she said. ‘Maybe it would’ve been easier if I’d had a brother or a sister. But I think I was probably a mistake. My parents …’ She sighed. ‘Let’s just say they’re not the greatest of role models. And I don’t think they should ever have had children. When I was young, Mum was always leaving Dad because he was having an affair, and getting her own place for a while. She’d take me with her. I’d just get used to the new place, and then they’d make it up and she’d move back in with him.’
So Polly had never known any real stability, Liam thought. No wonder she was worried about getting involved with him. When his career took off again, he could end up taking a show round the world. Given what she’d said about her past, he knew she’d hate that kind of upheaval.
‘It got worse when I was a teenager. Mum started having affairs to get back at Dad. The house was always full of fights and slamming doors. And they both yelled at me because I was so clumsy, always dropping things.’
And he’d just bet Polly grew clumsier every time she got stressed, making it a vicious circle. No wonder she’d said that she never screamed. She’d had more than enough of it when she was growing up. ‘You were a kid. It wasn’t fair to yell at you.’
‘I guess it made a change from yelling at each other.’ She bit her lip. ‘I hated living in chaos all the time. My teachers started asking me why my grades were dropping, and I was too ashamed to tell them it was because I couldn’t concentrate. About how bad it was at home.’ She swallowed. ‘I asked Fliss’s parents—my best friend’s—if I could stay with them. Fliss had told them what was going on, and they said yes. I went home to pack. I was going to leave my parents a note to tell them where I was, but they found me packing. And they were so angry with me. They said I couldn’t be friends with Fliss any more.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘I talked to Fliss at school, because they couldn’t stop me, but I wasn’t allowed to see her outside. And there was still all the shouting and the slamming doors and the leaving and the moving back in.’
Liam’s heart ached for her. No wonder she’d done something so desperate. She must’ve been so unhappy. Sure, there had been rows at home—mostly over his choice of career—but he’d grown up knowing he was loved.
‘In the end, I failed my mock exams. And I’d just had enough. I wanted out. I didn’t know who to talk to, who could help me. So I … cut my wrists.’ She swallowed hard. ‘It was a cry for help. And I’m ashamed of it now.’
Even though part of him was yelling a reminder that he needed to keep himself separate, to keep his heart safe, right now Polly’s need for comfort was greater. He couldn’t stay away any more. ‘Pol. I know we’re not—well, together. But I can’t just sit here and watch you rip your heart out like this. You need someone to hold you. And I’m here.’ He stood up and went round to her side of the kitchen table, scooped her out of her chair, sat in her place and settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms round her.
‘I don’t know whether I want to weep for you most or bang your parents’ heads together,’ he said. ‘And you’re being way too hard on yourself.’ He held her close. ‘When you’re fifteen, you have enough to deal with anyway, without having family troubles on top of that. Of course you’d have dealt with the situation differently at, say, eighteen, but you were only fifteen, Pol. You were still a kid. You couldn’t be expected to cope with their mind games and selfishness. And I’m sorry you had to go through that kind of unhappiness.’ He paused. ‘Obviously they found you in time after you did it.’
She nodded. ‘They took me to hospital. The doctors patched me up and sent me for counselling. That’s when I learned that smiling makes things better. Fake it until you make it.’
‘You don’t always have to put on a brave face. It’s OK to be upset or angry.’
‘No, it’s not.’
He decided not to point out that she’d lost her temper with him and cried all over him. Right now she’d smile her way through anything he said. He’d thought he was stubborn, but she made him look like an amateur.
There was nothing he could say. He just held her. ‘Did your parents finally wake up to what they were doing?’
She nodded. ‘I think seeing all that blood shocked my parents into going for therapy, too, and the fighting and the leaving and the getting back together all stopped. But we don’t really trust each other. They don’t trust me not to go into meltdown every time something stressful happens, and I don’t trust them to be there for me when life doesn’t go the way I want it to.’
‘You didn’t go into meltdown over Harry. Well, except your haircut. Which I take was a statement that you were kind of reinventing yourself without him.’
‘I did it myself with nail scissors. Just to get rid of the one thing Harry always said he loved about me, because—well, I was angry and hurt, and this was my way of lashing out.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Cutting off my hair to spite my face, you might say. Shona freaked out slightly because she knows about my past, but she dragged me off to get my hair fixed.’
‘It suits you.’
‘And it doesn’t take two hours to dry any more. That’s a bonus.’
Another of those wide Polly Anna smiles. He stroked her face. ‘I know Fliss and Shona have been careful with you. I take it your parents are treading on eggshells?’
Polly grimaced. ‘Dad’s first concern was the money. How much he’d paid out in deposits and would have to forfeit. And then Mum started shouting at him for being selfish.’
‘Now I really want to bang their heads together. How can they put themselves first when your life’s gone pear-shaped?’
‘It’s how they are.’ She sighed. ‘I guess I’m a coward, because I’ve been avoiding them ever since. But it’s a lot easier dealing with them at a distance.’
‘You’re not a coward, Pol. You’re sensible. I’d avoid them, too.’
She smiled wryly. ‘I wish they were more like Fliss’s parents. Fliss let me move in with her until I found a flat—and the second she told her parents what had happened, they came round to give me a hug and ask if I had a to-do list they could help with.’
Thank God she had someone in her life who cared enough for her. And he made a mental note to call his family later. He’d pushed them away too much; it was time he started appreciating them. They only interfered and nagged because they cared. He was lucky. ‘Fliss’s family sound lovely.’
‘They are. Actually, Harry’s parents are lovely, too. After he told them, they called me and told me he’s an idiot, and just because I wasn’t with him any more it didn’t mean I couldn’t still be part of their lives.’
Because to know Polly was to love her, Liam thought.
And he stuffed that thought right back in its box before it had a chance to grow. Love? He wasn’t in love with her. Love wasn’t something he did any more. Besides, Polly had made it clear she didn’t want that from him. She didn’t need that extra pressure right now. And he didn’t need the complications.
He stroked her hair. ‘I’m glad you’ve got good people in your life.’
‘I have. I’m lucky. I have so much to be grateful for.’
‘Or to make up for your parents,’ he said.
She blew out a breath. ‘I promised myself I’d never end up like them. That I wouldn’t marry someone I’d fight with all the time and who’d cheat on me. That I’d only marry someone really stable. Someone I liked, someone who liked me back. Someone safe.’
‘Harry?’
She sighed. ‘And how wrong I was. He wasn’t safe at all. He liked me, but he didn’t love me. Not in the right way. I didn’t realise he wanted the kaboom. I thought liking him and feeling safe with him was enough—for him as well as for me. That it could be perfect.’
Fake it until—but they hadn’t made it, had they? And no doubt that had shaken Polly’s faith in herself even more. ‘I take it you didn’t feel the kaboom for him?’ Liam asked gently.
She shook her head. ‘So I guess he was right to call it off, because it wouldn’t have worked. Not in the long term. What we had wasn’t perfect. I was kidding myself, because I wanted it so badly. In the end he probably would’ve ended up cheating on me, because we loved each other as friends. He needed more than that. And he’s obviously found it in …’ Saying Harry’s new love’s name was clearly a struggle, but she didn’t shirk it. ‘In Grace.’
Liam kept his arms wrapped round her, and Polly rested her forehead against his chest. ‘Thank you. For not judging me.’
‘I think you’ve already judged yourself much more harshly than anyone else could or would,’ he said softly. ‘So, no, I wasn’t going to judge you. There’s that old saying about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes before you judge them. That’s pretty true.’
‘Maybe.’ She closed her eyes. ‘About last night—I’m sorry. I wish it could be different. It’s the wrong time. If we’d met maybe in six months’ time … ‘
‘I know. But we didn’t. So we’ll keep this strictly colleagues. Friends,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. And I’d better let you get some rest. See you tomorrow.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Call me if you can’t sleep, OK?’
‘Thanks.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘That’s more than I deserve.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ And how he wanted to kiss her properly. To kiss away all the pain and the heartache, let her lose herself in him. Take her to the edge of paradise, where nothing else mattered but each other.
But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
And, although his heart was screaming at him to stay right where he was, his head was in control. He did what he knew was the right thing. And left.
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_71ab1812-0307-566d-84c8-716106216d0a)
‘WE’RE adding a small intro to the routine,’ Liam said on the Friday morning. ‘Because dance isn’t just random movement—it should also tell a story.’
‘And the story here is what?’ Polly asked.
‘I’m a guy from the wrong side of the tracks. I can’t resist you, and you’re—well.’ He shrugged. ‘Listen to the lyrics and you’ll get it.’
She didn’t. They were dancing to a romantic song, but that was it, as far as she was concerned. ‘Colour me stupid and explain,’ she said. ‘Otherwise the audience is only going to get half the story, because I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.’
‘That, Pol, is the point. Just be yourself and dance with me. Now let’s go through it again. You stand in the middle of the room and wait for me, and when the music begins I’ll dance over to you and we’ll move into ballroom hold.’
‘The vee and the butterfly, right?’
‘Right.
When they stopped for a break, Amanda came in with two mugs of coffee and a magazine. ‘I’ve had more calls from the press this morning. And there’s a story about you in Celebrity Life.’ She opened the magazine and showed it to them.
The headline ran, ‘Is Luscious Liam the one to make Pretty Polly smile again?’, and there was a picture of them together in the café, seemingly gazing into each other’s eyes.
‘For pity’s sake. I’m not going to make the poor girl dance for hours without a break. And don’t they realise that you need regular refuelling if you’re burning up calories in training?’ Liam said, rolling his eyes. ‘I hate that magazine.’
Especially because he knew he wasn’t going to be the one to make her smile again. This felt like rubbing it in.
‘They’ll find someone else to talk about soon enough,’ Polly said, flapping a dismissive hand.
