Perfect Stranger (21 page)

We stayed in Paris for three days. Jordan slept apart from me, and I cried myself to sfleep every night, waking in the morning with red-rimmed eyes and a pounding head.

I went with him to the tourist attractions—the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre—and on a boat trip along the Seine. We were unfailingly polite to each other, like following a bad movie script, and I hated every minute of it.

It was with relief that I boarded the flight to Heathrow and to something like my real life.

Once back in London, I avoided Jordan for most of Saturday, claiming I had shopping to do. At night I said I was exhausted. This was true. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept well, and I had a persistent nagging headache as a result. In any case, Jordan kept his distance too. Sophie and Isaac had moved into their apartment and weren’t there to act as a buffer.

How long could we last like this?

On Sunday afternoon, I sat on the bed, to pack my clothes and toiletries. I announced to Jordan that I was flying back to Manchester that evening.

He stared at me and frowned, his dark eyebrows almost meeting over his cold eyes. “Did you forget something? I can come with you if you need to move more things here.” His tone was icily polite.

I felt nervous now I was bringing things to a head. “No, I think there’s something
you’ve
forgotten.” I spoke slowly. “I still have a job. In Manchester.”

For a moment he said nothing, but I didn’t miss the shock that flashed over his face. In a low voice, he asked, “So what do you intend to do? See me on weekends? Whenever you can fit me into your schedule?”

I hesitated, and his face tightened. “For Christ’s sake. That isn’t going to work.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” I stood so quickly I went dizzy, and Jordan reached out to grab me. I shoved at him, lost my balance, and fell back onto the bed. I sat there, while the world spun and then reasserted itself.

I was so fucked off with everything. Something inside me snapped. Common sense, perhaps.

I struggled to my feet again and looked him in the eye. “You’re showing your true colors. You bully me into getting marrying—when clearly it was a huge mistake—and when I try to put things straight, you start pushing me around. That’s nice.” I made my voice hard and cruel. Self-preservation was everything to me.

If I had to hurt him, to make him listen to me, I would. My heart was already broken. I couldn’t stay with him and watch my spirit break too. I had to leave, while I could still walk away.

“What the fuck, Kate? I’ve never hurt a woman, and I’m not going to start now.”

I ignored him and twisted the knife. “You knew I was grieving for Gran. Don’t you think I was under a little stress? You took advantage of me when I wasn’t functioning properly. And you go banging on about not trusting Isobel? I trusted you, and look where it got us.”

“I tried to do my best for you.
For us
. I married you.”

“I didn’t
want
to get married.” The words hung in the air, as we glared at each other.

Jordan sat on the bed and gently tugged me down next to him. I sat warily, and winced as another shaft of pain seared through my temples.

“I want you to live here, Kate. You’re my wife, and you’re going to have my baby. Is that so unreasonable?” His voice was soft and coaxing, but his face was tense.

“No. I guess not.”

He pressed on. “So why do you want to go back to Manchester?”

I seemed to have lost the use of my tongue. “I was thinking of asking for a transfer, see if I can move to the Heathrow office.” It sounded feeble.

“Okay. But until then, commute every weekend?”

“I don’t know.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. The pain made me feel sick. “I’m not prepared to abandon my career so soon.”

“Ah. Your career.” He said the word as though it were poison, and I felt weary.

“I really don’t feel like fighting with you again, Jordan.”

“Neither do I.” He turned to me, cupped my cheeks, and nuzzled at my lips, as though asking permission. Like the parched ground for rain, I was starving for him.

This was the first passionate kiss since our last night of lovemaking, before I discovered I was pregnant. I kissed him back, imprinting the feel and taste of him on my memory. We undressed rapidly, touching and kissing, biting and sucking—seeking pleasure. The sex was fast and hard. He plunged into me, and drove me rapidly to the edge of a massive climax. He panted, and grinded into me, and I felt my insides tighten to the point of no return.

I came in a writhing frenzy, clutching him tightly against me as he groaned and shuddered. I closed my eyes and held back more tears. This would be the last time. In all our lovemaking, all our passion and desire, he never said he loved me. Just that he wanted me to live with him. That wasn’t enough.

Jordan lay there, breathing heavily. He reached for me, only I rolled away. An expression of disbelief spread over his face when I gathered my clothes. He held out his hand to me, a hopeful smile on his face, but I stood, a little unsteady on my legs. My body was easily won over, but my mind was made up. His eyes darkened as he watched me. I didn’t think he believed I was leaving.

“I’m going, Jordan. I have a taxi waiting.” It was a lie, but I’d hail one.

His expression was beyond hurt for a moment, and I almost changed my mind, but then he shuttered his emotions away again.

Picking up my bag, I tried for a pleasant tone. “If you’re here next weekend, I’ll see you then?”

He snarled back, “Don’t count on it.”

I’d planned to have a civilized discussion with Kate about where we’d live when she had the baby. The apartment would be fine for the moment, but we’d need somewhere with a garden before too long. My father hadn’t been a hands-on parent, but I grew up in a great place.

Instead, I nursed a glass of malt and wondered what the fuck just happened. Hurricane Kate. Scratch that—more like a freaking tornado, chewing up everything in its path. I gulped my malt, not registering the taste. God damn it. What did I have to do?

Stop acting like a spoiled brat, perhaps?

I wasn’t used to sharing my private life with someone else, to factoring in their wants and needs. It pissed me off, but I had to admit I behaved like a dick. Kate worked for years, to get where she was. It wasn’t right for me to tell her to give it up because I said so. We were adults. We needed to reach a compromise, even if I didn’t like it.

I could race after her. Stop her at the airport and persuade her to come back. A big, dramatic gesture. With flowers, hundreds of flowers.

My glass was empty, so I sloshed more malt in it.

Or I could leave her alone for a few days. Let her think about it. Anxiety nudged at me. What if she decided not to come back?

That was unacceptable.

I had too many things waiting for my attention, to take another day off work, but if I blitzed everything tomorrow, I could head up to Manchester on Tuesday. I needed a way to prove to Kate I loved her.

The thought stopped me in my tracks.

I loved her.

Somewhere along the way, she stole my heart.
Fuck.
That was why I felt like my chest had been ripped open.

This was going to take monumental groveling, and even that might not be enough.

I felt like warmed-up shit on Monday morning. Angry at Jordan’s attitude and pissed off with the world in general. My head felt as though I had nails digging into it, and the thought of coffee made me want to hurl. Welcome to pregnancy.

What kind of mother would I be? My experience with kids—with babies—was limited, and few of my friends had families. As for Jordan… I didn’t know what to think. I loved him, and under different circumstances I’d want to be with him, but not like this.

Could he love me? Did we just need more time to get to know each other? I was so confused.

I went to work early, hoping to clear my email before anyone else arrived. At last, something like normalcy in my life. I walked into my office and stopped dead. My things were gone. The photos. The bright-pink mug that held my pens. The spare jacket that was usually draped over the back of my chair. The phone charger that snaked across my desk. All gone.

I darted my gaze to the bookshelf. Empty. My files no longer there.

A sickening sense of foreboding took root in my stomach. There had to be a mistake.

I yanked open the desk drawers, but all I found was a broken pen, a scattering of paperclips, and some clear plastic folders. My emergency chocolate supply had disappeared too. Someone had cleaned out my office, and I bet I knew who was responsible.

I stormed through the Call Center, heading for Adam’s office, and saw him as he arrived, a paper cup of coffee in his hand. The smell turned my stomach.

“Adam.”

“Kate.” He gestured to his open door. “Excellent timing.”

I stood my ground. “Why is my office empty?”

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Technically, it’s not your office now.”

“Why not?”

“You can come in, or we’ll conduct this conversation where everyone can hear it.”

Gritting my teeth, I swept past him and waited until he came in and closed the door, before I let rip. “What did I miss?”

“Good question. You’ve missed quite a lot, I’m afraid.” Calm and casual, he put his drink down, leaned over the desk, and plucked an envelope from his out-tray. “I think this covers most of it.”

I clenched my hands into fists and feared I’d punch him on the nose if I moved. “Tell me.”

“Of course.” His tone was soothing, as though I was a fractious child. “There’s a restructure, following the Micro-Tel-Inc announcement. I’m prepared to be generous with your settlement, and even give you a good reference if you accept the terms.”

Restructure.
The bastard was getting rid of me.

“And if I refuse?”

“Kate. What you missed was repeated errors in processing, some of them very costly. The Avecon fuckup is the most recent example.”

“What errors?” Even as I asked, I knew what he meant. “The emails Colin’s been spamming me with.”

“The email
alerts
Colin sent you, each requesting your response. Most of them ignored. It’s not how ComCo expects a senior manager to perform.” He perched on the edge of his desk and flicked the edge of the envelope with his thumb. “Last-minute requests for leave. Inadequate staff training. Paula has great management potential, but you never nominated her for training.”

“I asked her if she was interested, and she said not yet.”

“You agreed to send team members to meet their key accounts, but as yet, only half of them have done so.”

There was no point in arguing. It was blindingly obvious he’d twist everything against me. “You’re getting rid of me so your best friend can take my place.”

“Colin is the Relationship Manager. A different role entirely.” His smile was satisfied, as he handed me the envelope. “I recommend you accept the redundancy. This way, you get a glowing reference.” He positively beamed at me. “Your personal belongings are in Reception.”

I never hated anyone like I loathed Adam in that moment. As though in slow motion, I reached for the envelope. “May I have a tissue?” He kept a box on his windowsill.

“Of course.” Adam rounded the desk, plucked a paper tissue from the carton, and turned to hand it to me. I leaned forward to take it, and bumped into his cup of coffee.

This time, when I splattered him with a drink, it was scalding.

He shrieked, as it splashed on his trousers. “You fucking bitch.” Shame it missed his balls.

I left him trying to repair the damage to his handmade suit, and went to collect my things. Everything was boxed up neatly. I dropped the envelope on top, and walked out.

Another part of my life over.

Sitting in my car, in the parking lot, I sank my head into my hands. What did I do now? All the years I’d worked were for nothing. What were the chances of being recruited for another senior position, when in a few months the pregnancy would be showing? I thumped the steering wheel and wished it was Adam’s face. The
fucker
.

Maybe I should take the opportunity to get a job in London. To make the move, to be with Jordan. Could there be a silver lining to this particular cloud?

What kind of settlement did Adam offer? I ripped open the envelope and tugged out the single sheet of paper. I skimmed the details, scowled at the lump sum, and then froze at the logo in the footer.

No. Surely not.

Micro-Tel-Inc, communications division of TM-Tech.

My anger, previously simmering, was about to erupt in volcanic proportions, and it was aimed at one person.

I stared at the columns of numbers in the spreadsheet. No matter how much I tried to focus on the monitor, all I saw was Kate’s face. I should have followed her to the airport and asked her to come back. I should have pleaded with her. Apologized in front of the entire fucking Domestic Terminal, if that was what it took.

I’d sent a string of apologetic texts, but none had been read. My calls went to voicemail. The long, careful email I wrote sat in cyberspace, unopened.

This was the first time I’d fucked up this bad. I didn’t like how it felt.

I was going nowhere though, until I’d reviewed the most urgent documents in my to-do list.

Fuck it. I’d ask Cass to print them out, and I’d take them with me. I buzzed her to come in to my office and started to pack up my stuff.

“Cass, I need to go off-site this afternoon. Maybe tomorrow too. Can you print the key documents for me? I’ll review them offline.”

She stood, notebook and pen in hand, creasing her eyebrows in a worried frown. “Is everything okay, Jordan? I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“Huh?” I saw the concern on her face. “Yes. Of course.”

“It’s just that—well—we were all surprised when you said you got married. We had a collection for you and organized a card and gift. We were going to present them to you this afternoon, but since you’re not going to be here, we could bring it forward if you don’t mind waiting five minutes.”

My heart sank. How could I tell the kind and well-meaning Cass, that I wasn’t in the mood for any kind of celebration? Maybe when I had my wife back, but not until then.
My wife
. It sounded fucking amazing. “I’m touched. Thank you. But I’m in a hurry. How about saving it until I’m back?” And by then, I may be happier.

“I guess so. If you’re sure.”

A noise in the outer office caught our attention. A door banged, and there was shouting. I frowned. That sounded like Kate.

“You can’t go in there.” That was one of the admin team.

“Is that his office? Watch me.” It
was
Kate. I leapt to my feet, pleasure flooding my veins. She came back. Thank fuck.

The door to my office flew open, and Lizzie, the administrator practically fell through it. “Mr. Merrill, I’m sorry to interrupt.”

I rounded my desk, as Kate stomped in. Her face was contorted with anger, and her hands shook when she threw an envelope at me. “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

“What?”

She stepped forward, gripped the back of my guest chair with both hands, and bent her head. When she looked up, her face was paler than ever, violet shadows clustered like bruises under her eyes. She sucked in a ragged breath, and then met my gaze. “Fuck. It
hurts
.”

I reached for her at the same moment she placed her hands on her stomach and whimpered. “Shit, shit,
shit
.”

“
Kate
.” I tried to hold her, but when I wrapped my arm around her waist, she cried out and slumped to the floor.

Chaos descended. I shouted for someone to call an ambulance and told Cass to find Sophie. Then I sat on the floor and pulled Kate’s head in my lap. Her eyes were closed. She was unconscious
.

The drive to the hospital took forever. I held Kate’s hand in the ambulance. If I could make her better by will alone, I’d do it.

Filling in the paperwork would be a nightmare if Sophie weren’t there.
Blood type.
I had no idea.
Allergies.
No idea. Any current medication. I shook my head at each question, feeling more useless by the minute.

One of the medical team led me to a chair and waited for me to sit. “Mr. Merrill, your wife had a miscarriage. I’m terribly sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

I tried to speak normally, and not like my throat was constricted by a giant lump. “Will she be okay? Kate? Will she recover?”

“Physically, yes. She’s young. And it’s an awful thing, but these early miscarriages are quite common.”

“Why? I mean, why did it happen? If she fell… could that have caused it?” Or if I pushed her on the bed.

“No. It’s very unlikely. These things don’t need a specific trigger.” The doctor gave me a tired smile, but I could tell he was distracted. He disappeared through the door, and I sagged in the chair. It was my fault. No matter what he said, I knew it was down to me.

“Jordan.” It was Sophie. “She’s awake. Come see her.” I scrambled to my feet and followed her into the private room. My heart thudded painfully inside my chest, and I tried to imagine how Kate felt.

She must hate me.
I
hated me.

Kate sat propped up in a narrow bed, her hands knotted together on the covers. It’d only been an hour since she was whisked away by the medical staff, but I’d aged ten years. The sight of her hair sticking to her forehead and the pain in her eyes made me age another ten.

“I’ll give you a few minutes alone.” Sophie stepped outside and closed the door behind her. The
snick
of the catch was loud in the quiet room.

I took a step closer to the bed. Christ. How close had I come to losing Kate? She was bleeding when they rushed her away. I’d done this. Put her through this.

“Kate,” I whispered, my voice catching on her name.

She stared at me, and without saying a word, slid the too-big ring from her finger. She weighed it in her palm, and then closed her fist around it. “I lost Gran. And now my baby.” She choked the word out and dipped her head.

If I believed in God, in miracles, I’d plead for a chance to swap places with her. To take her pain. I stood there like a dick, unable to speak.

“You’ve taken my job. And now my sister. I’ve nothing left.”

Her words made no sense. They hung in the air, taunting me, and I sought my voice. “I don’t understand.”

“Understand this.” Venom lined the words, and an icy shiver ran down my spine. “Stay the fuck out of my life, Jordan. I’m over you.” In a flurry of movement, she hurled the ring at me. It hit my shoulder and tumbled to the floor.

I stared at the sparkle of gold against the white tiles. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Razors filled my throat when I tried to swallow. She could have taken a thousand knives to me, and it wouldn’t have hurt more.

“I’m sorry.” I managed to whisper the words, useless as they were. I bent down, snatched the ring, and stuffed it in my pocket. “I’m so sorry.” My vision blurred. Stumbling like an old man, I left the room, blind to everything around me.

I had to get out.