Be My Baby (36 page)

And Alex’s was such a good heart—strong, courageous, noble.

The image of him laughing returned, and it bothered her.

When had she last seen Alex laugh like that? When had she last seen him laugh at all? The Alex she lived with now was withdrawn
and silent. If his heart was saying anything nowadays, she was deaf to it.

She hoped he’d slowly come out of it. She’d told herself he’d just needed time to recover from the shocks life had landed on him thick and fast but, stopped short by the memory of Alex’s face that day, she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. Something was wrong between them.

Alice’s voice broke though her thoughts. ‘It’s rather wonderful, isn’t it?’

Jennie made a forgettable comment about the cocktail and Alice elbowed her in the ribs. ‘Not the drink, you dafty!
Marriage!
I feel as if I’m in a perpetual state of bliss, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

That was the answer Jennie was supposed to give but, as she and the girls chatted, her mind began to dissect her answer. She
was
happy with Alex. Wouldn’t ever want to be with someone else, but…how did she put this? If she had to measure her level of happiness against Alice’s
perpetual bliss
, she realised she wasn’t hitting the mark.

On paper, everything should be perfect now between them: she was bonding with Mollie, and she and Alex had put the blip of their early marriage behind them. They had, hadn’t
they? Okay, Alex was working hard, as usual, but Cameron put in long hours, too, and Alice was still floating on a pink satin-lined cloud. Party-girl Jennie would have found that attitude slightly nauseating, but wife-and-mother Jennie was slightly…just a little bit…jealous. Where was her cloud of newly-wed happiness? Had they got past that stage already? It hardly seemed fair!

Coreen was right about the cocktail. A sense of clarity came over Jennie as she sipped it slowly. She listened with one ear as Coreen plotted how to get Mr Unimpressed to notice her and mulled over the problem of Alex.

Hadn’t she struggled with the idea that maybe there had only been enough fuel in their relationship for a whirlwind affair? But she’d tucked that thought into the back of her mind, ignored it. Alex wasn’t a playboy, for goodness’ sake! And he’d had a long marriage with Becky—probably would still be with her, but for Becky’s spectacular departure. So there was nothing wrong with the man she’d chosen.

She’d been sipping her Runaway Train through its straw, and she let it slide from her mouth.

What if Alex wasn’t the problem? Perhaps it was
her?
After all, she’d hardly ever had
a long-term
anything
. Love had always come to her in fits and spurts. It wasn’t a constant thing. There were seasons in every relationship—hot and cold, up and down. People came in and out of focus during the course of a person’s life. That would explain boyfriends who had seemed fun for a while then lost their sparkle. Sometimes people faded away altogether—like her mother—or were a foggy presence in the background, like her father.

But she’d thought that when she got married it wouldn’t be like that, that everything would finally be fixed. A sudden dryness at the back of her eyes made her blink. She didn’t want Alex to fade away!

She’d also thought that when she found the right man she’d be able to retire from being the star of the show, the life and soul of the party. Because all that had just been an attempt to delay the inevitable—the moment when it was time for her to fade into the background, the moment when people looked away.

And she’d given up her attention-seeking ways when she’d met Alex because he’d
looked
. Really looked. Past the glitter and giggles. And he’d kept on looking. She’d said yes to his unspoken proposal because she’d
thought she wouldn’t need all the razzle dazzle to stop him looking away.

Coreen was still talking, and Jennie realised she really wasn’t being a good friend. She tuned back in and listened properly.

‘I’ve even tried going out with other men!’ Coreen wailed.

‘To make him jealous?’ Alice said, shocked.

‘No…’ Coreen frowned. ‘I’ve done that before. It’s a terrible idea. I was just trying to distract myself, forget about him.’

Just trying to distract myself
.

Jennie thought about Coreen’s words constantly on the train home and in the taxi from the station.

Hadn’t she used that word in reference to herself where Alex was concerned? A distraction. That was where the heart of it lay. Distractions were, by their very nature, temporary things. Perhaps her effectiveness had worn off now, maybe because Becky’s death had finally brought him closure. Maybe he didn’t need her in that way any more. Her insides started to ache.

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Alex hadn’t stopped distracting himself. He was still using that as his coping mechanism, the same way he always had. He was working hard—too hard—and she
had the feeling it was partly by choice. This time
she
was the thing he was running away from.

She wanted to cry, really wanted to cry. But she clamped her jaw shut and blinked furiously. She hadn’t promised Alex she’d be his
temporary distraction
. She’d promised him for ever. And that was what he was going to get.

Making people sit up and pay attention was her one true gift in life.

Not enough of a distraction for Alex Dangerfield? Well, she’d see about that.

One of Jennie’s mad inspirations gripped her as she closed the front door behind her and hung up her coat. She didn’t stop there; she kept going, unbuttoning her blouse and skirt, shimmying out of them and hanging them on a spare hook. The heels she kept on.

She could hear the muffled voice of a newscaster drifting from the living room as she walked to the open door. The television was on. Only the television, its flickering light making everything seem unreal and jerky. Alex was sitting on the sofa, totally absorbed in the football scores.

Not for long.

Jennie slid a hand up the door frame and
draped herself fetchingly against it. Alex must have heard her breathy sigh because his head turned, almost automatically. And then his eyes widened. If she’d calculated it right, he was only three seconds away from drooling.

She walked towards him, seeing the fire ignite in his eyes, watching it sizzle brighter the closer she got.

She smiled and stopped in front of him.

She had his attention now. Oh, yes.

L
ATE
one night, with Alex dozing beside her, Jennie rolled onto her back, tucked her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling.

Her plan had backfired. Or worked too well. She wasn’t sure which.

Saucy lingerie and lots of
quality time
with Alex over the last few weeks hadn’t solved anything. Yes, he was there in the moment with her when they made love, but it was the
only
time it happened. It hadn’t bled into the rest of their lives.

To be honest, she wasn’t sure she could take much more of this.

At least her relationship with Mollie was going from strength to strength. Jennie smiled at the ceiling. She’d never imagined being with a child that wasn’t hers could bring such

joy.

More than could be said for Mollie’s father.

Being there in bed, great as it was, just wasn’t
enough. She wanted more. She wanted all the things he’d promised—his heart, his soul, for eternity. She
needed
more. And you know what? She
deserved
more. She’d hung her ‘pampered princess’ crown up, never to be used again, that day she’d sat in the church and had chosen Alex. She’d finally grown up. She was trying very hard to be the sort of woman he needed. Why couldn’t he see that? Why was she still invisible?

He always had a good sense of what time it was. Even before he opened his eyes, Alex knew it was later than he normally rose. A stab of panic hit him. He was late. There were things he needed to be doing, places he needed to be going. But before his brain could relay the signal to his muscles to contract then propel him out of bed it supplied another fact: it was Sunday.

That didn’t change much. He still felt as if dogs were snapping at his heels, that he had to keep moving or something terrible would happen. And yet…

He could feel Jennie’s warmth beside him, even though they weren’t quite touching. Last night had been incredible. Maybe nothing dire would happen if he stayed in bed a few moments longer. His warm and sexy wife was
lying right next to him, and being with her was the only time the hounds were silenced, that he felt
right
.

He slid closer to her, ran his hand up a bare thigh. She felt so soft. It felt so good to touch her. He became totally absorbed in the friction between his fingertips and her leg, the curve he was following.

Jennie grunted and slapped his hand away.

He smiled. By no stretch of the imagination could his wife be described as a ‘morning person’. But she might just change her mind, given the right incentive. He carried on where he’d left off.

She growled and turned over and away from him, and her mutter was muffled by half a pillow. ‘Cut it out, Alex!’

He shuffled over again and kissed the shoulder that was sticking out of the duvet. Jennie tensed, then sprang out of bed. ‘Alex! Take a hint, will you!’

She picked up her robe and shoved her arms into it. He didn’t tell her she had it on inside out. It wouldn’t go down well. He had a hunch something was up.

Who said men couldn’t be intuitive and sensitive?

He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘What’s wrong?’

Jennie’s fingers shook as she tied the sash of her robe into a ruthless knot. ‘I can’t live off your crumbs any more, Alex,’ she half-whispered, glancing briefly in the direction of Mollie’s bedroom.

Huh? What crumbs?

Alex blinked. ‘Live like what?’ he said slowly, refusing to look inside himself and find the answer to that question. Jennie gave him a look that only a disgruntled wife could give and only a thick-headed husband would ignore.

‘I love you,’ she said, her voice breaking slightly. ‘But you won’t let me in. You won’t
let
me love you… I feel like our relationship is dying.’ She paused and blinked slowly before looking across at him again. ‘Do you love me, Alex, really? Or am I just a commitment you feel you have to honour?’

He obviously took too long in answering that one because she re-tied her sash even tighter and stomped from the room.

He flopped back down on the bed and stared at nothing, a horrible sense of déjà vu crawling over him. This was how it had started with Becky. Incomprehensible outbursts. Cryptic accusations. His stomach clenched. Even though he knew Jennie was much stronger than Becky, much more
resilient, he couldn’t ignore the dreadful voice whispering in his ear.

It’s starting all over again. You’ll lose her. You’ll lose everything
.

Alex sat up ramrod straight, his hands braced against the mattress, then practically vaulted out of bed. There was something vital he’d forgotten to research for the case he was trying next week, something that might just be key for the prosecution of a nasty thug.

He dressed mechanically, his mind already having travelled ahead of him to his study downstairs. He didn’t feel the carpet beneath his feet, didn’t know how many buttons he’d done up or even what he’d put on. Mentally, he was running his fingers along his bookshelves, selecting tomes, flicking to indexes and collecting facts. Inside his head, everything was uncomplicated, hard facts in black and white, not wispy phantom-like emotions that couldn’t be grasped let alone comprehended. He liked the black and white.

And grey. Don’t forget the grey.

‘Daddy?’

Alex looked up from the paperwork strewn all over his study desk. ‘Yes, Mollie?’

She sidled into the room, looking freshly bathed and as cute as could be in her pink
pyjamas, and held up a colourful book about a ballet-dancing mouse. He put his pen down and looked at her hopeful smile. ‘Not now, okay? Daddy’s busy.’

The smile stayed, but the hopeful quality drained away. ‘Please, Daddy?’

He didn’t want to send her away, didn’t want to pretend the stuff covering his desk was more important, but the thought of snuggling up on the sofa with her filled him with terror. Every time he tried to connect with Mollie the same fog descended upon him, deadening everything until he was blind and useless. He couldn’t do it any more. He couldn’t sit curled up with her, knowing he should be feeling things he didn’t, knowing he was letting her down.

She was too small to understand at the moment, but eventually she would sense the deadness, too, and he wanted to spare her that. It would be easier for her to think that he had no choice than to realise her father didn’t know how to love her.

Perhaps this was what happened in situations like theirs—when parent and child had been disconnected before birth and too much time had passed until they were reunited again. People always said bonding was important, that new mums needed to spend lots
of time with their newborns after the birth. Perhaps there was a time limit. Maybe, if bonding didn’t occur within a certain time, it never would. The connection was severed.