Her Best Worst Mistake (22 page)

“
Oh. Well...good.”

It
was
good. But for some reason she
still felt uneasy. As though he wasn’t telling her the whole
truth.

He got out of bed, reaching for his boxers. She
watched as he pulled them on. Was it just her, or were his
shoulders tight? As though he was holding himself in check in some
way?

“
Are you sure you’re okay? Because I
don’t mind if you need to talk about it...”

“
Violet. I’m not upset about
Elizabeth.”

She pulled the sheet a little higher, tucking it
under her armpits. “But you are upset about something, right?”

He was a lawyer, always very precise with words, and
there was no other explanation for the way he’d phrased his
response.

“
Not upset, per se. Frustrated is a
better word.” There was more than a hint of challenge in his
posture as he faced her. “When are you going to tell her,
Violet?”

She blinked at him. “You think I
should have told her
today
? Even though she’s over the
moon about being engaged?”

Because it simply hadn’t occurred to her to confess
once she’d heard Elizabeth’s news, and she’d felt sure Martin would
be on the same page. After all, this was a big day for E. A huge
day.

“
Yes, I do. I think that we’ve
deferred to Elizabeth’s feelings more than enough. Don’t
you?”

He was angry with her. Disappointed. She could hear
it in his voice. Her stomach dipped with dismay.

“
I don’t want to ruin anything for
her.”

“
So, what? We just continue to skulk
around town, worrying we’ll run into someone we know? And you keep
driving yourself crazy, second guessing how Elizabeth is going to
react, making yourself sick over it?”

She stared at him. He’d never raised
it again, but that night outside the Thai restaurant had obviously
left a bad taste in his mouth. She hadn’t liked lying about being
with him, either, but it had been a necessary evil.
Elizabeth
had
to
hear about them from Violet, not through someone else. She’d
thought he understood that.

“
You know how much she means to me.”
They’d just had a whole conversation about it. How could he go from
being so understanding and empathetic ten minutes ago to
this?

“
I do. I know you
love her. But I love
you
, Violet, and I don’t want to feel
as though our future is on hold while we wait for it to be the
perfect moment for Elizabeth to hear about us.”

“
So, what? I call her back right now
and just dump this on her? While she’s drinking champagne with her
new fiancé?” Her voice was high and shaky with emotion.

“
Sure. Why not? You think there’s
ever going to be a perfect time, Violet? Because I can tell you
right now, there won’t be. Next time she’ll be pregnant, or
starting a new job, or her grandmother will be poorly, or something
will happen with Nate. If you keep looking for it, there will
always be an excuse not to tell her.”

“
I’m not ruining my best friend’s
wedding. Not with a phone call from the other side of the fucking
planet.”

“
Yes. I got that. Message received
and well and truly understood, thank you.”

He pulled on a T-shirt and strode from the room.

Violet stared at the spot he’d been standing. Bile
burned in her throat. She pressed both palms to her chest.

She’d been waiting for the bubble to burst, hadn’t
she? She knew what came next. The anger. The blame. All the ways
that she was wrong. All the ways that she’d disappointed him.

She’d been here before.

Her heart was racing, hammering inside her chest.
Panic threatened to swamp her. She took a ragged breath. She needed
to protect herself. She needed to stay calm and keep a clear
head.

And she needed to get dressed.

Right now.

Throwing back the covers, she reached for her
crutches.

Martin swore to himself as he strode into the
kitchen. Bloody Elizabeth. Why the woman couldn’t have held off on
making her big announcement for thirty minutes longer... Violet had
been on the verge of ringing and purging herself of her guilt once
and for all, and now they were back to square one.

Or maybe he was kidding himself on that score. After
all, she’d managed to find four months worth of excuses so far.
Maybe she would have found another excuse even if Elizabeth hadn’t
announced her engagement.

He grabbed the frypan and banged it onto the stove,
then raided the pantry for onions and garlic. He was slicing the
top off the second onion when Violet appeared in the doorway. She’d
dressed and pulled her hair into a tight pony tail. Because he was
still pissed with her, he didn’t say anything immediately, simply
kept chopping away at the onion.

“
The taxi will be here in ten
minutes. I need you to get my suitcase off the top shelf of the
closet so I can pack.”

Her voice was so quiet that for a moment he thought
he’d misheard her.

He lay the knife down on the board.
“
What
?”

“
I need you to get my suitcase down
so I can pack.”

He stared at her. She wanted to pack her things?
Because they’d had a fight? Because he’d pushed her to tell
Elizabeth, no matter what the circumstances?

For a moment he was reeling, completely off balance.
Then he registered that she was trembling and pale, her whole body
vibrating with the intensity of her emotions and he was hit with a
blinding, painful flash of insight.

If it was any other woman, he’d
interpret Violet’s announcement as a gambit to get her own way. An
extreme and childish gambit, but a gambit nonetheless.
Agree with me or I walk.

But this was Violet, who’d been treated as a shameful
miscreant when she’d been exploited as a child and ultimately
ejected from her home for being too much trouble, too hard, too
disruptive.

In Violet’s experience, fights with loved ones
weren’t avenues to compromise—they were fast tracks to
estrangement. They meant recriminations and judgement and,
ultimately, being sent out into the world on her own.

Or, in this case, back to her apartment, hobbling on
crutches.

Faced with what she believed was imminent rejection,
Violet had opted to make a pre-emptive strike.

If his heart wasn’t breaking for her, he could almost
find it in himself to applaud her chutzpah.

“
Violet...” He went to her without
hesitation, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her body against
his, crutches and all. “I don’t want you to go anywhere, okay? Just
because we disagree on something doesn’t mean that I don’t still
love you. I will always love you, no matter what.”

She was very still and unresponsive
in his arms, but he knew in his gut and his heart that he was on
the right track. He
knew
, because he knew her.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart...You
think I’m going to let you go now that I have you in my clutches?
You think I want to go back to living in black and white now that I
know what Technicolor looks like?”

She shuddered, then she pressed her face into his
neck and flung her arms around him. Her grip was fierce, almost
painful in its intensity.

“
I’m sorry I’m so messed up. I’m
sorry I don’t know how to do this. Please believe that I love you,
Martin, please believe that this thing with E has nothing to do
with how much you mean to me...”

He cupped the back of her head and held her as she
sobbed, his chest aching.

He should have broken Howard Sutcliffe’s nose that
night at the Savage Club. He should have knocked the other man
clear into the middle of next week for the damage he’d done to a
vulnerable young girl who’d needed love and protection and comfort
and instead received nothing but condemnation. To her everlasting
credit, Violet had sucked up the treatment she’d been dealt and
held her head high and survived, but there’d been a price for that
survival, and she was paying it now.

They both were.

“
I believe you, sweetheart. It’s
okay. We’re okay, Violet.”

She drew back from his embrace so she could look into
his eyes, her own swimming with tears. The uncertainty in her face
nearly killed him.

She had no idea how lovable she was. How precious and
brave and special.

She must have seen something in his eyes to reassure
her, though, because some of the tension left her body. He dragged
out a chair and sat, pulling her onto his lap.

“
I’m not going anywhere, and neither
are you,” he said quietly.

The remaining tension leached out of her body. She
lay her head on his shoulder, as simple and trusting as a
child.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her
perfume and made a decision.

He would let Violet find her own way and time to tell
Elizabeth. In the interim, he would listen and hold her hand and
offer his counsel, but he would not push. He understood now how
deep her wounds ran, how hard it was for her to trust that she
could make mistakes and still deserve love.

One day, she would know it in her bones, because it
would be his lifetime mission to make it so. But for now...

He would wait, and he would trust that Violet would
work it out for herself.

Chapter Twelve

Violet woke the next day feeling as though someone
had snuck in while she was asleep and beaten her with a cricket
bat. Her eyes were sore and gritty, her body heavy. As she lay in
bed listening to the sound of Martin in the shower, it struck her
that she was suffering from the emotional equivalent of a
hangover.

She’d hit a wall with Martin last night. She’d braced
herself for the impact, sure that the happiest months of her life
were about to implode... But they’d survived.

Martin was already calling it their first fight. On
one hand it terrified her to think that she might ever feel so
dangerously at odds with him again, but there was also something
strangely reassuring in the notion that Martin wasn’t daunted by
the prospect. That he expected them to have fights number two and
three and four and survive them and many more.

It was going to take some time for her to get her
head around the concept, but she was willing to work on it. Funny,
when she considered how often she and Martin had been at odds in
the past. But while he’d had the power to hurt her even back then,
now he held her heart—and her happiness—in the palm of his
hand.

The shower fell silent. She pushed her hair out of
her face and sat up, adjusting the covers over her cast. Thirty
seconds later, Martin exited the ensuite, a towel slung low on his
hips. As usual, water droplets still clung to his shoulders. She’d
chided him more than once for his sloppy drying technique, but he
claimed he preferred to “air dry”.

He smiled when he saw she was awake. “Hello.”

“
Hello.”

“
Give me five minutes and I’ll bring
your breakfast in.”

“
Martin, before you go...I want to
talk about Elizabeth.”

He hesitated a moment, then came to sit on the side
of the bed. “Fire away.”

She plucked at the edge of the sheet. “I know I’ve
made a mess of this whole thing. I should have told Elizabeth right
from the start. I should have, but I didn’t, because I’m a big old
chicken.”

He reached out and wove his fingers with hers.
“You’re not a chicken.”

“
I am. A cowardly, cowardly custard.
But I want to make a promise to you. I will go to Australia for the
wedding. I will do whatever Elizabeth needs me to do to make her
day beautiful and perfect, because she deserves that. But then I
will tell her. Face to face. I know you would prefer for it to be
sooner—”

“
It’s okay, Violet. It’s your
decision. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“
You have to be comfortable with it,
too.”

“
I’m comfortable if you’re
comfortable.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This is because I turned into
a complete psycho last night, isn’t it? You’ve decided that I’m
clearly not capable of being rational on this subject and you’re
opting out.”

“
I’m not opting out of anything.
Like I said, it’s your decision. But if you want my opinion, after
the wedding is as good a time as any.”

“
But you’d prefer before the
wedding.”

He smiled slightly and leaned forward to kiss her.
“Repeat after me: it’s your decision.”

He stood and disappeared back into the bathroom. She
chewed on her lip, pondering his words, then decided to simply take
him at face value. He’d said he was comfortable if she was
comfortable. She chose to believe him. After all, he hadn’t lied to
her yet.

So. In eight weeks time, give or take, it would all
be over. Elizabeth would know. Finally.

A sickening kick of adrenaline tightened her belly.
This time, there would be no going back. No excuses. No wimping
out. She’d made a promise to Martin, and she would keep it.

No matter what.

No matter what manifested itself sooner rather than
later. She was scheduled to have her cast off at the beginning of
May, but an X-ray showed that the bone hadn’t repaired itself
anywhere near as much as her doctor would have liked. She was
sentenced to another two weeks in the cast.