Husband Stay (Husband #2) (22 page)

“Sister?
” My
voice was far too loud in the small room, but I couldn’t hide my shock as I
stared from one to the other. “Belle is Jack’s sister?”

“So it would
appear.” Louella nodded for Nick to leave, and when we were alone again, she
said. “It would also appear that you’ve assumed infidelity where none exists.
Not surprising considering Danny’s behavior.”

“But Jack isn’t
like Danny.” They were sunlight and pond slime. Nothing alike. I could see that
now, but as I shook my head again, desperate to turn back time, I realized I
wasn’t completely to blame. “Why didn’t he just tell me?”

She pursed her
lips. “He appears to have discretion. Which I would imagine was a valuable
trait in the partner of a celebrity.”

It
was
a
valuable trait, and when I remembered the video of us having sex—which I
absolutely was not telling Louella about—I realized I’d already started to
trust him. With sex. But why wasn’t I trusting him with my heart?

I shook my head. “I’ve
been terrible to him, and all he wanted to do was give me… Was…”

All that amazing
sex. Would I
never
experience it again?

“Be that as it
may,” Louella said, recapturing my attention. “That doesn’t solve the problem
of you wanting to be a mother. And Jack…you said he was too reckless to be a
good father.”

Was that even
true?

“I’m not sure
now.” I stared into her calm blue eyes. “About anything.”

She raised an
eyebrow. “Perhaps if you dated him?” Then almost to herself, she muttered,
“Although why you girls would do anything as mundane as dating, when there’s so
much drama to be created with sex…”

Her expression was
prosaic as she waited, hands folded neatly—as always—on her lap. I stared at
her, with no clue, until she said, “You love him. He’s clearly healthy if he’s
an Olympic athlete. And from what I could ascertain, he’s well-spoken and
articulate. Obviously the physical union is
satisfactory
,” she allowed
herself the irony of lingering over that word. “And he comes from a wealthy
family so he’d be a good provider. What else, exactly, do you need from a
husband and father?”

I struggled to
remember. “I just…he’s a bit wild when we’re…alone together.”

“You’re
questioning his propriety?” I squirmed again, but Louella was relentless. “You
heard Nicholas. No scandals on record. And because of his family’s position in
society, he’d be under enough scrutiny to reveal reckless behavior.
You
on
the other hand, were shouting in the corridor like a shrew when I arrived.” I
blinked at her, shocked out of my self-righteous stance. “So if anyone is at
risk of creating bad publicity—”

“I meant, in front
of the children,” I cut in, belatedly defending myself.

She shook her
head, her perfect bow mouth curved down at the edges. Then she said something I
could never have anticipated. “Do you love Jill?”

My breath caught
in apprehension. Was she going to lay out some grievance? Ask me to take sides?
“Of course I do.”

“No matter what?”

I nodded.

“Then if she was
to turn up at your home drunk, or swear in front of your children, or
accidentally hurt their feelings, would you wish you’d never been her friend?”

Life without
Jill?

It was such a
horrible thought that I pressed fingertips against my lips, stung by the idea
that I could
ever
wish our friendship away. My girls were my life.
“Never,” I swore, fervently.

“Then why do you
expect so much more of Jack?” she said softly.

I didn’t answer—because
I’d never thought to put him in the same category as my friendships. Instead,
I’d been completely unforgiving.

Before I could
formulate thoughts, however, she said, “Don’t expect more from him than you’d
expect of us, and certainly not more than you’d expect of yourself. You’re not
perfect, you know. So why should he be?”

An image flicked into
my mind of Jack holding me against the wall. He’d just thrust into me and
caught his breath to say,
Could you be any more perfect?
The memory
ached inside me, not only because it was the last time we’d had sex, but
because he’d been thinking I was perfect, while I’d been thinking about every
reason he wasn’t.

I didn’t need to
reframe my thoughts about Jack.

I needed to let
them go.

Every one.

I swallowed
tightly, and nodded to myself. “I’ve been saying bad things about him to push
him away from my heart.”

“We all build
barriers to protect ourselves.” She smiled then, one of the few
self-deprecating smiled I’d ever seen from her. “I was wrong to advise Jill to
give up on Finn. He did bring out the worst in her, but she needed that to come
out so it could be healed.”

I shook my head,
not denying, just not wanting to believe I was
acting out
with Jack for
selfish reasons.

But Louella was
relentless. “Danny broke your trust, the same way Jill’s father broke hers, and
unfortunately there’s only so much that love from girlfriends can fix. Some
wounds, only another man can uncover. Jill was fortunate that Finn stuck with
her while she sorted herself out.”

I nodded, not
wanting to disclose the fact that Jill was far from sorted. And that made me
wonder. Even if I could bring myself to trust Jack, to get into a relationship
with him, would it go anywhere? Finn had known Jill was a keeper from the
start. Jack, however, wanted nothing long-term.

“I’m not sure if
Jack will stick with me. He seems to only want a temporary relationship.”

“So he says.” She
raised an eyebrow. “But even if he’s not in love now, he may be in the future.”
I was just digesting that when she added, “My mother only gave me one piece of bridal
advice, and I give it to you now.” She looked me straight in the eye. “Keep his
stomach and his loins satisfied, and ninety percent of your job is done.”

I blinked, my
mouth falling open in horror at the idea that Louella’s
very
proper
mother would ever discuss men’s ‘loins’.

But Louella merely
nodded. “The only sexual conversation I ever had with her.”

“Thank goodness.”
I couldn’t imagine what other gems she might have come out with if she’d gotten
on a roll. “So,
happy loins
and food.” I wasn’t used to discussing sex
with Louella, so I wanted to make sure I hadn’t misread the instructions. But I
couldn’t help adding, “Only, that didn’t work with Danny.”

“Was the sex good
with Danny?” She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t wait for me to answer. “The
dynamic with Jack is different.” Clearly I’d said enough to convey the chalk
and cheesiness of it all.

But I didn’t
squirm. She was so matter-of-fact about it, I found my embarrassment fading.
“So, focus on what’s working and build on that.”

“He’s the one.”
She looked so supremely confident in that moment, I wanted to believe her.

Only, “How can you
be sure?”

“You’ve changed,
and he did that. You’re more confident, assertive.”

“I did stand up to
my mother.”

Louella’s
perfectly curled lashes fluttered for a moment before she said, “I beg your pardon.
You stood up to your mother?”

“I told her…” I
couldn’t remember. “Something about disrespect. I yelled, then I threw the
phone and hung up on her.”

Louella’s smile
was slow to come, but when it did, it transformed her face. I’d never seen her so
radiant, and it took my breath. She was
beautiful.
“For twenty years
I’ve hoped you’d stand up to that tyrant. Well done you.”

I felt so proud of
myself, I wanted to cry. “It was easy, in the end.”

“And the
aftermath?”

I shrugged. “She
hasn’t rung me about the
Sunshine
segment, and I texted them about it.
Maybe I’ll never hear from her again.” I was
such
a bad daughter, but
the idea was so liberating I wanted to hug myself. “Only, I’ll miss my dad.”

“She’ll come
around,” Louella said. “When you have children, if not before.”

She looked sad
then, and I had to say, “What about you, L? Are you doing okay?” I couldn’t
imagine her rambling around in that huge mansion alone. Did she want children
too?

She glanced away
to the window, revealing a profile that appeared fragile again. “I miss Marcus,”
she said, and nodded. “But we’d grown apart. There’s no going back.”

I steeled myself
to ask the hard question. “And the person you fell in love with?” We’d plumbed
the depths of my emotional dramas. If there was ever a moment when she’d reveal
her own heart, this was it.

“Gone,” she said,
and smiled a brittle smile, still looking out the window. “Sometimes I’m
lonely, but this is my moment to discover who I am. What I want.”

I couldn’t stop
myself asking, “What do you want?”

Long seconds
ticked over until at last she sighed, a sad, drawn-out sigh of resignation.
“Power,” she said softly, and closed her eyes. “I want back the power I gave to
my husband when I married him.”

I wanted freedom
and orgasms and children, so I didn’t understand what she was talking about. “What
sort of power?”

“The ability to
command. To be obeyed.” She glanced back at me. “I love Marcus still, too much
to punish him for what he took away from me. But I want to punish someone. I
want someone to suffer for what I’ve been through.”

Never, in the
twenty years that I’d known Louella, had I heard her speak like this. She was
always so calm, so controlled, so…emotionless. As we stared at each other, I
realized I really didn’t know her at all. And I had no concept of what my
response should be, except to say what should go without saying. “I’m here for
you.”

She nodded, sucked
in a slow breath and said, “You three are my life raft and the ocean is rough
right now. Don’t let yourself sink, Angela, because I’ll drown without you.”

My eyes stung with
tears and I pulled her out of her seat into the tightest hug I could manage
with one hand. And she hugged me back. “I’m here,” I kept saying, over and
over.

She didn’t cry—that
would have undone me completely—but I felt her shudder from time to time. We
hugged for what felt like minutes, and then abruptly she pulled back. “Are we
done now?” Her voice was low and husky and so unlike Louella. I would never
have recognized it. “May I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” She clearly
needed space, so I busied myself with tidying up my already-tidy kitchen while
she used the facilities and then she was in front of me again, smiling her
usual smile—a slight twitch of her lips.

“Thank you for
your hospitality.”

“Thank you for
your clarity,” I replied. “I’m going after Jack.”

“I look forward to
meeting his parents at the wedding. They’ll make very good sponsors for the
charity events I organize.”

I laughed at that.
“I’m not sure about—”

“I am,” she said
with a completely straight face. “Today, he wants you. Don’t make him wait
until tomorrow. Giving men time to think is fatal.” 

“Okay.” I grinned,
riding on Louella’s confidence that we belonged together. He made my heart feel
light. “And nothing of this to Fritha or Jill till it’s sorted.” The last thing
I needed was Fritha weighing in and stuffing things up as she had with Jill and
Finn, or more of Jill’s indiscretion’s—I still hadn’t completely forgiven her
for the
Don’t fake it
comment when I’d been standing in front of Jack.

Louella put her
fingers up to her lips and turned the key—a delightful gesture I hadn’t seen
since we were teenagers back in Dakaroo.

I knew it would
embarrass Louella, but I had to say, “I love you.”

She nodded. “I
know.” All Han Solo cool. Then she turned for the door. “Nicholas!” He was
inside in seconds. “We’re leaving.”

Without a word, he
retrieved her coat and helped her into it, biceps conspicuously on display. Then
he shook my hand and opened the door for her. Louella didn’t look at him once,
but the feeling of familiarity between them resurfaced, almost as if her
bossiness and his obedience was some sort of game they were playing.

I had no idea if
that was true, but a second after they were gone, I realized I didn’t care. My
thoughts were instantly consumed with Jack, and how quickly I could be in his
arms.

It was highly
unlikely that he’d hung around the building after I’d ordered him out so
rudely, so I hurried to my bedside table and retrieved his phone. I hit his
number before I could formulate what I might say, because that very much
depended on his reaction to the call.

What I didn’t
expect was a recorded message that said,
“I don’t have time for this
anymore. Enjoy your career. You and Tug deserve each other.”

Stay calm. You
can do this.

I sucked in an
unsteady breath and clutched more tightly to Tug’s arm, balancing on my
ridiculously high heels on a red carpet that was thankfully more secure than
the stage I’d tripped on the day I met Jack.

There. You
can’t go a single minute without thinking about him
.

Only, that part of
my life was over. I had to move on. So I pulled myself out of regret—which was
bottomless once I got stuck—and into mindfulness.
Where are you? Feel
grateful for what you have.

I was under a long
pavilion, sheltered from the hot afternoon sun, walking down the red carpet
with other celebs and artists into the venue for ARIA awards. My documentary
crew hovered beside us, exposed to the scorching sunlight as they filmed Tug
and I, then panned around us.

The beautiful
Sydney Harbor Bridge was visible behind a wall of fans up ahead who alternated
between screaming and cheering as each new celeb or musician was released from our
holding area to saunter down past the paparazzi to the picture wall where
they’d have their photo taken before being interviewed and then entering the
glittering Sydney Casino.

At some point in
the next few minutes, I’d be walking past those flashing lightbulbs, and most
of the crowd would have no idea who I was. It would have been terrifying if I’d
been doing it alone. But thank goodness, for small mercies.

Or, tall, cheeky
ones.

I turned to Tug
and smiled.

“You look
beautiful.” He patted my hand which was linked through his arm, and despite my
gratitude practice, I couldn’t help wishing he was Jack. In fact, I couldn’t
stop thinking about Jack, full stop. But at least that the whole gay thing was
out in the open between Tug and I.

When he’d rung to
ask about the ARIAs, I’d been so wound up by the sound of Jack’s
message-service rejecting me—over and over again—I’d confronted him with what
Louella had told me and he’d admitted it.

For some bizarre
reason, knowing a secret about Tug made me like him more than I had. And his
declaration that the two of us as a couple would do wonders for my profile was
reluctantly backed up by Rosie. So I agreed to go to the ball with Tug instead
of my prince charming, who may well never speak to me again.

But I had to stop
thinking about that.

“There’s your movie
star mate,” Tug whispered, close to my ear as he nodded subtly to the line
behind us.

With the documentary
crew filming me, it would have appeared too eager if I’d simply turned and looked,
so I smiled at Tug, waited a few seconds, and then disengaged my hand and
pretended to look behind myself to adjust the train of my white lace gown.
This
dress I was happy with. Yes, it was translucent, but it had a straight
neckline that ran over my collarbone—quite respectable—and it fell all the way
to the floor. The lace features were large and I’d ensured I had skin-colored
Spanx under it so there could be nothing revealed.

My hair had been
elegantly piled on my head with soft tendrils falling about my face, and I used
that to my advantage, glancing through them while I pretended to straighten my
train. Then I caught my breath. Not ten paces from where I stood, Noah Steele
was getting out of the longest stretch limo I’d ever seen, and the waiting
crowd was going mental.

My heart kicked up
a pace. And maybe it was all my years of avid magazine reading, pouring over
pictures of celebrities and wondering what their lives would be like. But the
charisma, and effortless confidence they displayed thrilled me. I could see Noah
strolling down the line of artists, shaking hands, saying hello to those he
knew. 

And I suddenly
remembered my documentary crew were filming me. What if Noah didn’t recognize
me? Or didn’t remember me? I was a nobody. If he walked straight past me, I’d
look like a complete loser, but if I stopped him and had to explain who I was,
that would look even worse.

I turned back to
the front, my heart starting to pound. I must have had a worried expression,
because Tug said, “Pet?” as he took my arm again. “Stage fright?”

“I’m fine.”
And
a big fat liar.

I didn’t belong in
a lineup of highly successful Australian artists, and I certainly didn’t
deserve to—

“Here she is!” Noah
Steele materialized beside me and whisked me off Tug’s arm. “Hello gorgeous,”
he said, and aimed a smacking kiss near my cheek.

I was so nervous I
barked out a laugh. Then before Tug could say a word, Noah added, “Let’s get a
photo together. Shall we?”
He took my arm and led me past the waiting
musicians, shouting greetings to a couple and leaving Tug to trail behind,
grumbling theatrically about
losing his date
.

The documentary
team scrambled to keep up. When we reached the open section of the carpet, fans
immediately erupted, screaming so loudly my ears hurt, but I ignored that to
concentrate on keeping my shoulders back and my smile confident, as per Rosie’s
instructions.

Flashes were
already flickering beside us, but when we reached the picture wall, the waiting
paparazzi exploded in a firestorm. Rosie had never anticipated this photo
opportunity, but her instruction to keep smiling naturally, stuck. One of her
tips had been to smile at individual fans in the crowd, even wave to them,
which I did, keeping my cast tucked behind me so it wouldn’t show up in the
photos.

I heard someone
shout, “
Angel. This way!”
and I turned to see a pair of Indian girls
waving wands with angel wings atop them. I grinned in astonishment, and Noah,
who must have noticed, gave my shoulder a hug. 

“Beauty and the
beast!” he shouted to the photographers.

“Too right, mate!”
one shouted back, and Noah laughed again.

Then he gave my
shoulder another squeeze and said, “See you at the after party, Angel,” and then
he was off, strolling over to where the celebrities were being interviewed by
big national television stations. Tug’s co-hosts would be there for the outside
story, while his job was to report on the inside action
.

And he was ever
the professional, stepping smoothly in beside me at the picture wall and smiling
prettily for the cameras, but out of the corner of his mouth he said, “Couldn’t
hold him here for a second so I could get my photo with him?”

I turned to him
and grinned. “Jealous?” I wasn’t letting him live down the gay disclosure
anytime soon, especially not after he’d given me such a hard time on his show.
He surprised me by grinning back which the cameras caught before he led me on
to the interview pavilion.

Thankfully Tug
kept it brief, talking up my connection to Noah, which was thrilling, but it
was also a way to get himself in the same sentence as a mega star. I was
starting to learn about publicity.

When my turn came
to say a few words, I thanked the thousands of fans who’d downloaded my song
since the
Sunshine
program had aired, and even managed to slip in a plug
for my upcoming album which we’d decided to name
The Beginning
. Not only
was it the beginning of my recording career, the song selection harked back to
my musical roots, songs that I’d heard growing up.

In the future, I
hoped to sing new songs, maybe even write some—with help. But for now I was
happy to give classics a new life, knowing they would appeal to an older
audience who remembered the original. I was giving them a fresh twist so it should
also bring younger listeners in as fans.

With the documentary
crew still trailing, Tug led me inside the glittering majesty of Sydney’s
sparkling new casino and whisked us up to the top floor with its panoramic
views over Sydney Harbor and the city skyline. I followed him through the
throng of celebs and artists, awed by his memory for names and grateful for the
gracious introductions. After the first hour, the night became a blur of food I
didn’t taste, wine I didn’t dare drink, and stunning live performances that I
was sure I’d never match.

By the time we
reached the after-party in the Casino’s huge nightclub, I was drunk on
excitement, and likely to babble anything.

Rosie, who I
hadn’t seen all night, peeled me away from Tug who was working hard to impress
some up-and-coming grunge band into coming on his show.

“Noah Steele
again
.”
She raised an elegant eyebrow, one hand on the hip of her pistachio green shift
dress. I wondered if she’d asked him to do it.

“I love that man,”
I blurted.

“There isn’t a
breathing woman on the planet who doesn’t love the big larrikin.”

We grinned at each
other. Then she gestured with a thumb over her shoulder. “You’re okay with
Dunn?”

“Yeah. He’s fine.”
I wasn’t at liberty to share his secret, so I steered the conversation onto
sales and the very quick payments she’d organized for me. I was also happy to
express my gratitude for Rosie’s protection. Since the
Sunshine
debacle,
I’d had no appearances, and her team had worked social media instead, to create
hype around tonight.

That had left me
feeling safe, but with little to do, and I’d stupidly tortured myself by
watching the video of Jack and I having sex. A crazy thing to do, but there was
no other way to hear his voice, to see his smile. I didn’t have his real phone
number. Just the one linked to the phone he’d given me, and short of marching
up to his family property and demanding to see him—which I would never do,
especially with a documentary crew trailing me—I simply needed to accept that
whatever he’d felt for me was gone.  

Which left me
stuck with painful longing.

Rosie nodded at my
wine glass. “You want a refill?”

“It’s just soda
water.” I shrugged. “I don’t trust myself with alcohol tonight.”

She tapped her
nose. “Good plan. Find me if you want a ride home. I wouldn’t trust Dunn to
look after your best interests.” She patted my arm and went back to mingling,
and for a second I thought about her husband and wondered if he was at the
party. Did she bring him to work functions? Or was it easier to do her job of
building relationships if she didn’t have to worry about him being bored.

I’d never had to
think about that before. My married life had been about supporting Danny’s
career and, yes, attending many boring dinners. Would I do that to my husband?

Jack probably
wouldn’t mind…

Stop thinking
about him!

I turned back to
Tug, more to distract myself than out of any real interest in the conversation,
but at that point I realized I needed the bathroom so I touched his arm. “Back
in a minute.”

The nightclub was
jammed, with booths along the walls, cocktail tables in the center of the room,
and a DJ at the front doing her best to drown out everyone’s conversations. I wended
my way carefully through, congratulating myself for not drinking. Several local
radio celebs were tossing back shots of something evil-looking, while those
around their cocktail table cheered. I wondered if they’d turn up
unflatteringly on Instagram later in the night.

At least the film
crews—including my documentary crew—had been banned from the nightclub, because
what happened at the after party really needed to stay at the after party. Joyous
award winners and desultory losers were all getting drunk, so behavior was
erratic.

In some places I
had to inch through, careful to avoid my heel catching in my train, or anyone
else’s. At least seeing other gowns close up showed mine to be modest in
comparison. The latest trend among lean girls, of showing off honed abs with skimpy
tops and low slung skirts, wouldn’t have suited my curves for a second.

The only upside to
all this exposed skin was hoping my mother had watched the red carpet fashion
parade. At least this time she could be reassured that I wasn’t ‘dressed like a
sex-worker on national television’ as she’d reportedly declared after my
Sunshine
segment. Apparently the trauma of that had been so humiliating, she hadn’t ventured
out of the house ever since—so dad said.

At least he was
still talking to me. Repairing my relationship with my mother would be a whole
other matter, and I wasn’t sure if I should even try. Jill had said
Good
riddance
when I’d told her the story
,
but she’d also wanted to come
to Sydney and hug me.

That sounded like
her trying to escape, so I’d promised to hug her at the wedding. Two sleeps.
And Fritha had just been Fritha, sending me champagne and chocolates and
flowers—every day a new package. My girls were happy for my success. I should
be happy for me. But…

Jack.

Oh. My. God.

There. On the other
side of the room, against the wall, watching me.

People moved
between us but I was sure I’d seen him, so I hurried in that direction.
Unfortunately, just at that moment, a black clad figure stepped in front of me
and I slammed straight into him with an undignified
Ooof
.

It was such an
impact, I almost bounced backwards, except that he wrapped an arm around me and
pulled me hard up against him.

“There.” He
breathed bourbon all over me. “Are you okay?”

I looked up into
his face and couldn’t help recoiling, so shocked by the scars crisscrossing his
cheeks, that I didn’t register for a second that he was still holding me far
too closely. His white hair was shaggy and his eyes were pale blue, like a
Husky. They bored into mine and despite his smile, the effect was menacing.
“You should look where you’re going.”

I put my good hand
between us and pushed on his chest, finding my feet as he let me go. My first
instinct was to walk away—no,
run
away. But instead I said, “Excuse me,”
and I went to step around him but, incredibly, he held an arm out to stop me.