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‘What?’
She shook her head, trying to clear it.
She could have sworn he’d just said he’d left because of her, as if he’d been doing her some great favour. Of all the lousy, stupid excuses…
‘You left because of me?’
Her blood boiled, and she slammed her hands palm down on the table. Bad move. It gave him the opportunity to reach out and cover one of her hands with his, his soothing touch too warm, too comfortable.
But she didn’t shrug him off. She couldn’t, because somehow with that one touch he’d broken something inside her, some inner reserve of animosity she’d been harbouring against him ever since he’d walked out of Rainbow Creek.
And she didn’t want to resent him or be bitter or harbour any grudges. She wanted a real, honest-to-goodness explanation, a reason that would finally set her free so she could move on.
‘Cam, look at me.’
He squeezed her hand gently and she gnawed on her bottom lip, blinking furiously.
She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She couldn’t, for she had a feeling once the flood gates opened she’d cry enough tears to fill Port Phillip Bay.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to meet his, her heart clenching at the sincerity blazing in his.
‘I was selfish in marrying you. I wanted you so badly I was blinded to anything else. You were only nineteen, for goodness’ sake, and had spent your whole life in that small town. I took advantage of you.’
He rubbed his free hand over his face but it did little to wipe the anguish off his face. ‘We were practically kids. And eloping? Blowing off your parents? Going against their wishes? What were we thinking?’
‘I married you because I wanted to,’ she said, her voice tremulous, and she swallowed several times to stop it cracking completely. ‘You were my world.’
Pain, deep and irreversible, flickered in his eyes, turning them stormy pewter as he gripped onto her hand as if he’d never let go.
‘Same here, sweetheart, same here. But you wanted to follow me, hit the road to goodness knows where while I scrounged for work, when you had your own dreams to follow.’
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the café next door. ‘There’s your dream right there. You wanted to live in the big city and run your own place; you’ve done it. And that’s great. You couldn’t have done that if you’d traipsed around with me to the ends of the earth and back. I couldn’t let you do it.’
Something niggled in the back of her mind, something about her parents, but she ignored it for now, needing to concentrate long enough to make sense of what he’d just said, to absorb the emotional impact of it all.
For there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Blane meant every word he said, that he truly believed he’d done the right thing.
But at what cost? Her heart? The wonderful life they could have had together?
‘You couldn’t let me?’
She shook her head, hoping she could get through this without dissolving into a teary mess.
‘It was my choice to make. Mine, not yours. At the very least we should’ve discussed it…’ She trailed off as a light bulb flashed in her mind, illuminating what she’d been trying to put her finger on a few moments ago. ‘How did you know I was going against my parents’ wishes? They never spoke to you about what they wanted. You didn’t even see them the week after we eloped.’
Guilt clouded the strong, rugged features she’d once loved with all her heart, and her hand shook with the effort not to reach out and smooth the indentation from between his brows.
‘I went to see them after we eloped to try and explain how we really felt about each other, how I’d never try and come between you and them.’
‘Bet that went down a treat,’ she muttered, struck by the irony of the situation. In leaving town, he’d catapulted her into a life-changing confrontation with her parents, resulting in an estrangement she couldn’t breach.
‘They gave it to me straight, and I knew then I couldn’t put my needs ahead of yours. It wasn’t right or fair. And they were right about one thing: I had nothing to offer you. You had a comfortable life there, a way of building a financial future before following your own dreams, and I couldn’t take that away from you.’
A harsh snort burst from deep within, and she took advantage of his momentary surprise to ease her hand out from under his. She had to before she turned hers palm up and hung on for dear life.
‘Funnily enough, you leaving ended up being the catalyst in me running from Rainbow Creek as fast I could.’
Shock widened his pupils. ‘Why?’
Camryn took a sip of water, instantly transported back to that day in her parents’ kitchen: the tantrum, the accusations, and the god-awful truth.
‘I lost it. Blew up at them big time. Mum lost it, too, we started arguing, then she hurls in my face this was the very reason she was keeping Nan’s inheritance from me till I turned twenty-one.’
She slugged the rest of the water, hoping to wash away the bitter taste of her parents’ deception, lingering to this day.
‘Turns out I could’ve had the money when I reached eighteen. Imagine how different our— my life could’ve been.’
And that was what rankled the most. If she’d had the money when she’d been entitled, maybe they would still be together. He wouldn’t have had to scrape by from job to job, town to town; they could have had a healthy start to their marriage with enough capital to do whatever they wanted.
But her parents had robbed her of that opportunity, had stolen the kind of life she and Blane had talked about while lying under the stars beside the river in Rainbow Creek, two young lovers daring to dream.
And she’d never forgive them for that.
‘I’m sorry.’
He reached out and touched her cheek, a soft, comforting gesture, all too fleeting when he withdrew his hand. ‘For everything.’
Tears scalded the back of her eyes, hot, burning tears that threatened to spill out and run down her cheeks in a cascading waterfall.
Shaking her head, she used her hair as a shield, grateful she’d had the common sense to release it from its plait.
It didn’t work, as he reached forward and gently tucked a few curly strands behind her left ear.
‘I know this has been tough, listening to all this heavy stuff. But we had to have this conversation, Cam. It’s the only way we can move forward.’
Her gaze snapped to his, her belly tumbling into a sickening free-for-all as she registered what he meant.
Moving forward.
He’d met someone.
Someone important enough for him to hunt her down, soften her up with his sob story, then demand a divorce?
As if sensing her distress, he cupped her chin and leaned forward, his face scant inches from hers.
‘I really want to move forward. With you.’
Her angst dissipated in an instant, dissolving on a wave of such intense longing she could have quite happily flung herself into his arms across the table and never let go.
Before her common sense kicked in. What was she thinking, considering taking another chance on a guy like Blane?
Sure, his reasons for leaving sounded sincere, and a small part of her agreed they’d probably been too young, too crazy in eloping, but going down that road again after all this time? He’d also been right about the fact they’d both changed and they had grown apart—thanks to him.
‘I can’t.’
Hurt flickered in his eyes, the smoky-blue flecks shimmering, and she reached out to touch his cheek before she could stop herself.
She’d meant her touch to be innocuous, a brief touch on his cheek to prove a point. However, she hadn’t banked on the urge to linger, the tiny prickles of whisker beckoning her to explore, to trace the contours of his cheek with her fingertips ever-so-slowly just as she used to.
Nor had she counted on him capturing her hand, gently scraping her fingers across his cheek, as if trying to imprint the feel of him into her palm.
‘You sure about that?’
She jerked back, withdrawing her hand with the finesse of a wounded rhino, ignoring the questioning gleam in his steady gaze.
‘Because, the way I see it, we’re still married. We still have chemistry, and you still care as much as I do, otherwise why agree to meet me here?’
She’d been asking herself the very same question since she’d agreed to this foolhardy evening.
‘Because you wanted a chance to explain, and I’m a decent enough person to give it to you. But that’s as far as it goes.’
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth curling into that devastating smile he used to his advantage. What hope did a girl have?
‘Sorry. I’m not buying it.’
‘Fine. You want to know the truth? I said yes because I’ve wasted enough time looking for you, and now that you’re here it’s a good opportunity to get divorced and move on.’
He should have bristled, or been angry, or defensive, or…something!
Instead, he sat back, looking way too relaxed for a guy who was just about to go through what for most people was a major life-changing event. Apparently divorce ranked right up there with death of a spouse and moving house; considering she’d already been through both those cataclysmic events six years ago—losing Blane had been akin to him dying in the devastation stakes—she knew firsthand how rough it could be.
‘You looked for me?’
No acknowledgement of what she’d said about the divorce, just a hint of curiosity as he leaned forward and placed his arms on the table.
He had strong forearms, lean yet muscular, with a light sprinkling of dark hair, forearms she’d trailed her fingers over when she’d explored his body for the first time, forearms that had lifted her up and swung her around after they’d married, forearms that had cradled her close on their honeymoon night spent in a dingy motel on the outskirts of Echuca.
It had been all they could afford, but it hadn’t mattered. Not the annoying neon sign that flashed on some crazy cycle, not the sagging mattress, not the grungy brown carpet in their room. All of it had faded into oblivion when they’d fallen into each other’s arms for the first time as man and wife.
It was a lifetime ago, in her past, so why was she suddenly all too aware of the underlying buzz of electricity still flowing between them?
‘Yeah, I looked for you, for about a year. You know, to serve you divorce papers.’
‘Only a year, huh?’
Once again he ignored the D word hanging between them, and strangely enough it didn’t seem all that important anymore with his steady grey-eyed gaze fixed on her, her skin tingling as if he’d physically touched her.
She made a frantic grab at her plait before belatedly remembering she’d let her hair down— metaphorically only, she hoped!
‘I like your hair better this way.’
Before she could blink, he’d reached out and captured a strand of her hair, gently twirling it around his index finger, forming a loose curl before releasing it, his fingertips brushing her shoulder as he sat back, a wistful expression on his face.
Clamping down the urge to yank his hands across the table and shove them through her hair, she shrugged, trying to ignore her burning, yearning skin where he’d briefly touched her.
‘Having long hair in the hospitality industry is impractical. I have to wear it tied back all the time.’
‘As long as you get to let it down once in a while.’
Was he asking if she had a social life, if she’d dated?
Hmm…if she counted the catch-up coffee with Lars the Lech and the dinner from hell with Deon the Drag, yeah, she’d dated. Twice in six years, two times too many, for neither of those guys had been Blane, neither had come close to sparking her interest as the man sitting across from her did.
‘I’m a self-confessed workaholic. I want the café to be the best, and to do that I need to put in the hard yards.’
‘Work isn’t everything.’
Camryn couldn’t explain the sudden change in atmosphere. One minute he was laid-back and laughing at her, the next he’d tensed up, from his bunched shoulders to his folded arms.
She topped up her water glass from the funky red glass bottle in the middle of the table, making a mental note to look for something similar for the Niche.
‘It is for me.’
He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, and it was the first time she’d seen him look anything but relaxed all evening.
‘I guess I’m trying to find out if there’s anyone else in the picture.’
The smart thing to do would be to fob him off, maybe even tell a little white lie to cement their estrangement and obtain the divorce she should have got years ago.
Instead, she stalled for time, forking the last piece of cake into her mouth and sighing as the chocolate mousse melted on her tongue, releasing a citrus burst in tart contrast to the luscious sweetness.
‘Come on, Cam, it’s a simple question.’
‘There’s no one else.’
She cleared her throat, blaming her husky tone on a stray cake crumb rather than the sick thought that he’d probably dated—and extensively. ‘What about you?’
Not that it was any of her business. Not that it mattered. She was just curious…
He unfolded his arms to lean forward and place them on the table, way too close to hers, lowering his tone to match hers.
‘There’s been no one else for me, only you. It’s always been you,’ he murmured, sliding his hand to cover hers, his calloused palm rasping across her delicate skin and sending shivers shooting up her arm.
His heartrending statement hung in the air as waiters bustled around them, cake plates were whisked from kitchen to table, and the steady buzz of patrons filled the air along with the sound of muted jazz.
He leaned closer, his forearm brushing hers again, and she clenched her teeth to refrain from sighing with longing.
‘Look, you know I’m a stand-up guy, and I’m too old to play games, so I’ll give it to you straight. I want us to get to know each other again. Take our time. It can be dinner, a movie, another coffee, whatever. The ball’s in your court.’
