The Unexpected Holiday Gift (8 page)

CHAPTER NINE

I
T
WAS
EASY
to busy herself in getting the castle ready for Christmas. All she needed to do was stick to her schedule, count the courier boxes that had arrived and ignore Jacob hovering near her shoulder, checking up on everything she was doing. At least then she had a chance of making it to the hotel before Ivy's bedtime. Maybe she could stay up a bit later than normal...

‘I do know how to do this, you know,' she snapped finally, when she turned to put the box with the Christmas lights in by the tree ready for the morning and almost crashed into him. ‘It's my job.'

Jacob stepped back, hands raised in apology. ‘I know, I know. I just feel like I should be doing something to help, that's all.' Clara bit back a laugh. All those months of marriage she'd spent complaining that she wanted him to stop working and spend time with her, and the one time
she
wanted to be left alone to work she couldn't get rid of him! Even Clara could appreciate the irony.

But their conversation in the car had got her thinking. Maybe that had been part of the problem—she hadn't had anything except him in her life so she'd clung too desperately to him. She'd been lopsided, like a Christmas tree with decorations only on one side. She needed decorating all the way around. And now, with Perfect London, and Ivy and even Merry, she had that. Well, almost. There might be a few branches still in need of some sparkle. Or some love...

Could Jacob provide that? Did she
want
him to? Clara had been so focused on what he might mean to Ivy, she had barely paused to consider what it might mean for
her
to have him back in her life.

‘Can't I start decorating Bruce or something?' Jacob asked, bringing her attention back to the cold, undecorated castle hallway.

‘Bruce needs to settle in overnight,' she explained. ‘To let his branches drop, and let him suck up plenty of water to keep him going. I'll decorate him in the morning.'

‘Then what
can
I do?' Jacob asked.

‘I told you—go do some work or something.'

‘I don't want to.'

Clara stilled at his words. What she would have given to hear him say that about work when they'd been married. Now it just made her suspicious. What was he playing at?

‘I don't need you dancing attendance on me, Jacob. I'm not your guest—I'm here to work. You're not responsible for me, you know.'

Something flashed across Jacob's face. Was it...relief? Relief that he could get back to work, she supposed.

But he surprised her. ‘Fine. But this is still my Christmas. I want to help. Give me something to do.'

Clara shrugged. If that was what he wanted... Flipping through the stack of paper on her clipboard, she pulled off a sheet and handed it to him.

‘Box Seventeen?' he asked, reading the title.

‘It's that one over there.' Clara pointed to a medium-sized brown box liberally labelled with the number seventeen on all sides. ‘Check through it and make sure that everything on that list is in there.'

‘Didn't you check them when you packed them?' Jacob slit open the box and Clara tried not to stop breathing as the scissors went a little deeper through the tape than she liked.

‘Three times,' she confirmed. ‘And now we check them again.'

‘Were you always this hyper-organised?'

‘I may have got worse since starting Perfect London,' Clara admitted. ‘But pretty much, yes.'

Another thing that had set her apart from her own family. Her mother had always been the spontaneous, play-it-by-ear type. The day Clara had left for university—a date circled in red on the calendar for months in advance—her mother had decided to take the rest of the family on an impromptu trip to the seaside. Leaving Clara to find her own way to university with whatever luggage she could carry on the train.

Conversely, the only spur-of-the-moment thing Clara had ever done was marry Jacob.

‘So, I guess this must be pretty weird for you,' Jacob said, looking up from his box.

‘Weird? Working with a client?' Clara said. ‘No, not at all. I mean, it's not the way we usually—'

‘I meant setting up Christmas with your ex-husband,' Jacob interrupted her.

‘Oh. Well, yes. That is a little more unusual,' she admitted. ‘I mean, it would have to be, wouldn't it? I've only ever had the one husband. And technically you're not even officially my ex yet.' Great. Now she was waffling, and drawing attention to the fact that he'd spent five years not agreeing to a divorce, just when he was finally offering to do exactly that. And she was starting to wonder if she really wanted him to...
Could
he be the father Ivy needed?

And what about the husband she needed? Surely that was a dream too far.

‘Yet,' Jacob repeated, his voice heavy. ‘Actually, that's one of the reasons I wanted you to travel up with me, so I could talk to you.'

‘Oh?' That really didn't sound good at all. ‘What about?'

‘My father... He's very sick.' The words came haltingly, as if Jacob was still only just admitting this truth to himself.

‘So I understand.' That was, after all, the only reason she was in this mess at all. And they'd already spoken about it. This wasn't news, which meant there had to be something more. Something worse.

‘He was always very fond of you,' Jacob said.

‘I was always very fond of him too,' Clara admitted with a small smile.

‘Fonder than you were of me, as it turned out.' Jacob flashed her a quick, sharp grin to show he was joking, but the comment sliced at her heart anyway.

‘That was never the problem,' she murmured, and regretted it instantly. She'd just given him an opportunity to ask her again why she'd left. He wasn't going to leave that just hanging there. Not if she knew Jacob at all. And, as her dreams reminded her on dark, lonely nights, she had really thought she did.

‘I always thought you were going to come back, you know,' he said after a moment.

So did I.
But that had been before a positive pregnancy test had changed her life forever.

Clara would never regret having Ivy in her life, not for a single moment. But she knew falling pregnant had cost her Jacob, and that thought still haunted her sometimes.

‘Your note said you needed time to think,' Jacob went on when she didn't answer.

‘I did.' She'd thought and thought, working her way through every possible outcome, every potential reaction that Jacob might have to her news. But she'd always come to the same stark conclusion.

Jacob Foster didn't want kids. Not ever.

‘So you thought. And...?'

‘And I realised that our marriage was never going to work,' she said, as simply as she could. ‘I wasn't happy, and you weren't in a position to make me happy.'

It was only later that she'd realised that no man could ever
make her happy. She had to find that happiness in herself. And she had—by building her own career, her own family, her own
life.
Finally, she relied on herself, not others, for her own happiness.

But sometimes, alone at night, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd become a little
too
self-reliant in that area.

‘I seem to recall making you pretty ecstatic more than once,' Jacob joked, but there wasn't any levity in his words. She could hear the concern underneath and that mantra she knew he lived by:
What did I do wrong? How can I fix it? I will not fail at this...

It was an exhausting way to live. And it had been just as exhausting being the one he was trying to fix, the person he wanted to win, to succeed at being with, all the time.

‘That was sex, Jacob. Not life.' Except, at the time, it had felt like both. It had felt as if their entire existences were tied up in the way they moved together, the way she felt when he touched her, his breath on her skin, her hair against his chest... It had been everything.

Until suddenly it hadn't been enough.

‘Maybe that's where we went wrong,' he said. ‘Too much sex.'

Clara laughed, even though it wasn't funny.

‘Maybe it was,' she said. ‘Or rather, too much time having sex, not enough talking.'

‘Talking about what?' Jacob asked.

Clara rolled her eyes. ‘Everything! Anything! Jacob, we met in a bar on Christmas Eve and we barely came up for air until March.'

‘I remember.' The heat in his voice surprised her, after all this time. Did he still feel that connection? The one that had drawn them together that night and seemed to never want to let them go.

She bit her lip. She had to know. ‘Do you? Do you remember how it was? How we were?'

‘I remember everything.' Clara's body tightened at his words. ‘I remember how I couldn't look away from your eyes. They mesmerised me. I remember I was supposed to go home for Christmas the next day but I couldn't leave your bed. Couldn't be apart from you, no matter what day it was. I thought I might go insane if I couldn't touch your skin...'

So he did remember. She'd thought she might have embellished the memory of that connection over the years, but he described it just the way she remembered it feeling. Like an addiction, a tie between them. Something she couldn't escape and didn't even want to.

‘What went wrong for us, Clara?' Jacob asked softly.

She shook her head, the memory dissipating. ‘That connection... It wasn't enough. We didn't ever talk about our lives, about what we wanted, about who we really were.' All these years, she'd thought their problems had been simple: Jacob had loved work more than her, and he had never wanted a family. She'd wanted his love, his attention...and his baby. They were just incompatible. But now...she wondered if she'd had it wrong all along. Maybe they would have had a chance if they'd built on that connection to really get to know each other instead of burning it up in passion. ‘How did we expect to build a life together when we didn't even know what the other person wanted, let alone if we could give it?'

‘I couldn't give you what you wanted—is that what you're saying?' He sounded honestly curious, but Clara knew he'd be beating himself up inside.

‘I'm saying that I didn't know what I wanted when I married you,' Clara explained. ‘And by the time I did...by the time I realised I wanted more than just fantastic sex and nice parties and too many houses...it was too late.'

‘I wanted more than just that, you know. I wanted forever with you.'

Clara's heart contracted. How had this happened? How had she ended up somewhere in the Highlands having this conversation with her ex-husband? A conversation she'd been avoiding for five long years.

‘I know,' she admitted. ‘And I wanted that too.' She couldn't tell him that, sometimes, she still did. Because having forever with Jacob would mean not having Ivy, and that was simply not possible.

This was her moment, her chance to tell him about his daughter. Her hands shook as she turned back to the box she was unpacking, trying to focus on the exquisitely wrapped gifts and shiny paper. She needed to tell him. But his family would be arriving tomorrow and she had work to do and... She could make excuses forever. The truth was, she was scared.

She took a breath, trying to slow her heart rate. January; that was the plan. She needed to stick to her plan. The New Year would be on them soon enough.

‘You were talking about your father,' she said, suddenly aware they'd been diverted from his original topic. ‘Was there...? It seemed like there was something more you wanted to say about him.'

‘Yes.' Jacob glanced over at her, long enough for her to see the indecision in his eyes. What on earth was he going to ask?

Much as she dreaded it, Clara had to know. ‘So...?'

Jacob set his list aside, abandoning Box Seventeen completely. ‘Like I said, he's always been fond of you. I think...I know that he'd really like it if you could be here for this, his last Christmas.'

‘Here...at the castle? With you?' She'd really hoped he'd been teasing when he'd mentioned it earlier. The idea didn't bear thinking about. ‘It's your family Christmas, Jacob. I'm pretty sure ex-wives don't get invited.' Not to mention the fact that there'd be a distraught little girl at a hotel a couple of miles away, wondering where her mother was on Christmas morning.

‘Ah, but as you pointed out, we're not actually exes yet. Not officially.' Her own words were now coming back to haunt her. Great. As if the Ghost of Husband Past wasn't enough of a Christmas present.

‘We haven't been together for five years, Jacob,' she said. ‘I think we qualify under these terms.'

‘Still. You're putting together this perfect Christmas. Don't you want to stay and enjoy it too?'

No. She wanted to have her own perfect Christmas, with Merry and Ivy. With a new bike and champagne at breakfast and maybe a snowball fight after lunch.

She did
not
want to spend Christmas with Jacob's mother and sister glaring at her over the turkey.

‘I don't think that would be a very good idea,' she said in what she hoped was a diplomatic manner. It occurred to her that this would all have been a lot easier if she'd just told him about Ivy the day he'd walked back into her life. He'd probably have run for the hills and she wouldn't be in Scotland at all. ‘I mean, I'm sure your family aren't so fond of me any more. I can't imagine they've forgiven me for walking out on you.'

‘Maybe not,' Jacob conceded. ‘I mean, you broke my heart. Families tend to get a little upset about that sort of thing.'

‘I imagine so.' Not that she'd really know herself. ‘Most families, anyway.' She'd never even told hers she was getting married in the first place, let alone that she'd left Jacob.