Six Naughty Nights: Love in Reverse, Book 2 (40 page)

“Daddy!” Charlie exclaimed, running past Esther and up to him.

Esther sent him a look that would have frozen lava, but he ignored her and picked Charlie up. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck, and he caught his breath with sudden emotion. This was his son. What right did she have to deny him access for all that time?
 

“Hey, buster. How are you this morning?”

“Fine, Daddy. Look at my new car.” Charlie showed him the toy his grandparents had bought him. “It’s a Porsch-
a.
”

“It is a Porsche,” he said, smiling. “A shiny red one.” He kissed Charlie’s curls. Suddenly he didn’t want to put him down. Esther could pick him up and walk out of the hotel, and he might never see her again. She was going to Dunedin for the interview. What if she got the job? What would happen to his relationship with Charlie then?
 

Charlie struggled to get down, though, and ran over to Esther. “Look, Mummy.”

“It’s beautiful.” She lifted him into the chair next to Martha and sat beside him. “How was he?” she asked his grandparents.

“Energetic,” Graham said, but he grinned, showing he didn’t mind that much.

“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Toby asked her politely.

She looked up and met his gaze briefly, then looked away. “Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

He nodded, walked over to the table and poured them both a cup, taking the opportunity to try and calm himself down. He shouldn’t get angry, however annoyed and upset he was at what she’d done. Nothing would be solved by anger. It was difficult not to though. Her betrayal bubbled inside him. Could he forgive her for such a cruel act?

Chapter Forty-Seven

Esther’s heart rate had been going at pretty much double speed since she’d first admitted to Toby that she’d purposefully kept Charlie’s presence from him, and it showed no signs of slowing down. She took the cup of coffee he offered her and glanced up at his face, wondering if he was angry, hurt, upset or a combination of all three. He sat opposite her, but his expression was carefully blank, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

She sipped the coffee and broke a croissant into pieces for Charlie, half-listening to the conversation around the table. This was a nightmare. She wanted to grab her things and run. She’d told him now—what else was there to hang around for?

The conversation bubbled along, and nobody except perhaps Faith and Rusty seemed aware of anything amiss between the two of them. She concentrated on helping Charlie with his breakfast. No way would she be able to force any food past her own lips.

She’d been aggressive when she told Toby, but now she regretted her attitude. He probably thought she didn’t have any remorse for what she’d done, and she did in droves. It was guilt that had forced her to be so confrontational, when in fact she should probably have apologised profusely and begged his forgiveness. Would he have forgiven her? Or was the deed itself too terrible for him to ever excuse what she’d done?

Tears pricked her eyelids. She’d been selfish in keeping Charlie to herself. Toby was right—his actions in Fiji, terrible though they had been, hadn’t justified what she’d done.

She took a swallow of the coffee, which was so hot she burned her mouth. Great. Now she had a blister to add to the rest of her pain.

“I’m so excited!” Eve was practically dancing in her seat. “Rarotonga, here we come!”
 

Everyone laughed. She looked so pretty, thought Esther, glowing with newlywed bliss. As did Faith, who’d regained a little colour after nibbling some toast. Rusty put his arm around her and whispered something in her ear. It must have been rude because she blushed and pushed him, giggling. Esther dropped her gaze again, loneliness sweeping through her. Why had she come here?

“You’ll have to take loads of photos,” Faith said, sipping her orange juice. “I’ve never been to the Cook Islands.”

“Have you been?” Rusty asked Toby.

“No.” Toby buttered some toast. “I’d thought about saving up for a holiday but I doubt I’ll have the money now I’m going to uni.”

“When does your course start?” Dan asked, leaning back as a waiter placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

“I applied too late for this year, but next semester I’m doing some correspondence courses to give me some background into the subject.”
 

“You do know it means you actually have to write things down,” Dan said with a grin, and everyone laughed.

“Really?” Toby raised his eyebrows. “Damn.”

Esther gritted her teeth. She hated how he let the others put him down like that.

“And you have to sit still for more than five minutes in seminars,” Eve said. “Do you think you’ll be able to manage that?”

“I’ll do my best.” He smiled, but Esther could see the hurt shining behind his eyes. Why didn’t they realise how their comments made him feel?

“He’ll be all right if he has to count up to twenty providing he can take his socks off,” Rusty said.

Esther slammed her cup down with a crash into the saucer. “Stop it!” she yelled.

Everyone stared at her. “Esther…” Toby said cautiously.

Nausea rose inside her, but she wasn’t going to keep quiet. She’d probably never see them again anyway—what did it matter if she upset them all?

“No,” she said, “I’m fed up with everyone talking to you like this.” She glared at Rusty and Dan in turn. “You always put him down and talk to him like he’s an idiot. He has feelings, you know.”

“It’s all right, Esther,” Rusty said calmly in what she assumed was his best teacher’s voice. “He knows we don’t mean it.”

“Does he?” She met his green gaze boldly. “Did you all know that he’s only taking this degree for you?”

Everyone around the table stared at her. Toby stood, his face thunderous. “Come with me.”

“No.” She stayed sitting.

Martha frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He loves his job. He’s a fantastic carpenter—he’s got a natural talent for it. So he’s not an academic—that doesn’t mean he’s inferior to the rest of you.”

“We’ve never said that,” Dan told her, his eyes cool.

“Maybe not, but you imply it every time you call him a Neanderthal or a caveman.” She’d hit home—they all looked guiltily at each other. “He’s more intuitive and thoughtful than the rest of you put together. He’s only doing this course because he thinks he has to, to get your approval.”

“Esther!” Toby’s face flushed. She’d embarrassed him.
 

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” She stood, burning with her intense need to make them all understand. “You don’t really want to do this. You’re not interested in architecture, not in this way. You’re amazingly skilled, Toby—I’ve never met anyone with your talent. You’re going to be wasted sitting behind a drawing board. What’s the point, when all you want to do is get out there and deal with the buildings themselves?”

He fixed her with a steely gaze. “You’re spoiling everyone’s breakfast. Outside, now.” It was the tone he used on her in the bedroom. The “do as you’re told” tone.

Silence descended on the table. Her bottom lip trembled, so she bit it. Martha stood, pity on her face, and held out a hand toward her, but she ignored it and bent and picked up a quiet Charlie out of his seat.

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast.”

She turned and walked out.

Toby caught up with her in the foyer. He grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around. “Where are you going?” he snapped.

“I’m getting my bag, and then I’ll call a taxi to the airport.”

He stared at her. “But your flight’s not until Monday.”

“There are always free seats. I’ll wait until one becomes available.”

His eyes blazed. “So you’re running away?”

“What’s the point in staying?” Misery made her angry. She hefted Charlie onto her hip, and he sucked his thumb, curling up against her. “We’re over, Toby. We were never going to be anything more than just sex. We both knew that. How could we be, after what we’ve done to each other?”

“I love you,” he said simply.

She caught her breath. It was the first time he’d said it.

“I love you too.” She swallowed. “But it’s not enough. We’ve hurt each other too badly.”

“Bullshit.” For the first time he looked really angry, clenching his hands as he glared at her. “I asked you to marry me.”

Indignation made her raise her voice. “By text! When you were drunk!”

His jaw bunched as if he was gritting his teeth. “Even so. There’s more at stake here than me and you. There’s Charlie, and we have to talk about him.”

“We will. I’ll call…or something. But now, I just want to go.”

He stepped in front of her as she went to walk away. “Well, I want to talk. For God’s sake, we have a son. Surely it’s worth us at least trying to discuss having a future.”

“You really think we could be happy?” she snapped. “Knowing what we’ve done? How could we be sure the hurt we feel would ever go away?”

“We can’t. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Sweetheart, relationships don’t come with a guarantee. That’s what makes them exciting. Two people have to spend time together to explore whether they’re right for each other. Sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

“Or ever, in your case,” she said spitefully.

“Or yours,” he snapped.
 

She looked away. A tear ran down her cheek.

In her arms, Charlie started crying. She kissed his curls, aching inside.
 

“I’ve got to go,” she said to Toby.

“Don’t do this.” Toby caught Charlie’s fingers in his own. “Don’t take him away from me.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Tears poured down her face. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a coward.”

“We can sort something out…”

She disengaged his fingers from Charlie’s. The pain on Toby’s face made her curl up inside. But she had to get away before she collapsed into a sobbing ball. “I’ll call you.”

“Daddy!” Charlie screamed as she turned.

That made her pause. A long-term relationship with Toby would never work, and breaking his heart—and her own—was an inevitability she had to deal with.
 

But breaking her son’s heart was something else.

She should stay and plan the future, work out a way for Toby to play a part in his son’s upbringing and reassure Charlie he wasn’t losing Toby forever.

But at that moment, she knew that if she stayed she would totally break down, and she needed to be as strong as she could for Charlie.

Tears pouring down her face, she walked away.

Chapter Forty-Eight

When Esther left, the summer seemed to leave with her. The weather turned cold and it rained continually, dense, heavy sub-tropical rain that pooled on the drive and made the water tanks overflow.

Toby lay on the sofa, thinking that he should really get up on a stepladder and pull out the plants he’d seen peeking over the edge of the guttering. But he didn’t move, too listless to motivate himself to do anything but lie there and listen to the music playing on his iPod.

He did rouse himself when a knock came at the door, even though his heart sank at the thought of seeing his mother’s worried face again. His fridge was full with pasta bakes and shepherd’s pies as she tried to encourage him to eat, but his appetite had completely vanished after Esther left.

He opened the door, surprised to find not his mother’s worried face but instead two other equally worried faces.

“Hey,” Rusty said. “Can we come in?”

“Please?” Faith begged.

Toby looked at his feet for a moment. Rusty had rung repeatedly for the past two weeks, asking him to come out, and they’d even come around a few times, but each time he’d turned them away, insisting he was fine and just needed some time to himself.

This time, however, he couldn’t resist the tears that glistened in Faith’s eyes. “Sure.” He walked into the living room, leaving them to close the door. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he turned as they stood awkwardly before him. “Want a drink?”

To his surprise, Faith walked up to him and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. Startled, he took his hands out of his pockets and put his arms around her, looking at Rusty over the top of her head. Rusty just gave a rueful smile.

“Hey, you. Everything okay? Is the baby all right?” Concern swept over him, and he pulled back and looked at her waistline.

“The baby’s fine,” she said huskily, resting her hand on the growing bump.

“Good—come and sit down though.” He led her to the sofa where she sat next to Rusty and took the chair opposite them. “What’s up?”

Faith glanced at Rusty, and they exchanged a look. “We’re worried about you,” she said.

He leaned back and scratched at a mark on his jeans. “I’m all right.”

“Actually you look better than I thought you would,” Rusty said. “I thought we’d find you surrounded by empty whisky bottles, unshaven and staring at Esther’s picture.”

Toby gave a ghost of a smile. “Well, as you can see, I’m completely sober, beardless, and there’s not a picture in sight.” Mainly because he only had the one picture of her on his phone. And none of Charlie. His son.