Say It With Diamonds (20 page)

‘Well, maybe you’re more like your father, whoever he was.’

‘And maybe you’re not,’ she fired back.

The vibrating silence stretched between them. ‘Who do you resemble, Will?’ she said eventually.

He threw her a furious scowl. ‘That’s irrelevant.’

As she thought. ‘You know this is absolutely insane. You aren’t only your father’s son. You’re your mother’s too. So why should his genes outweigh hers?’

For a long moment Will didn’t say anything, but his face was tight. And then something inside him seemed to collapse. His shoulders fell, the anger faded from his expression and his eyes filled with something that made her heart clench. ‘It really doesn’t matter,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’m not willing to take the risk.’

‘What risk?’

‘That I might hurt you.’

But couldn’t he see that he was hurting her right now? That he was pulling her heart apart piece by tiny piece? She wanted to thump him on the chest, claw at his skin and hurt him as much as he was hurting her.

‘You are not your father, Will, and I am not your mother. God, I’m not even my mother.’ She threw her hands up and let out a short bitter laugh. ‘I can’t believe you’re letting this still dictate your life. Just because your ancestors were unfaithful it doesn’t automatically follow that you will be too.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ he grated, his eyes glittering.

‘Of course not. God,’ she said, summoning up her anger
to block out the hurt. ‘You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met so why are you being so pig-headed about this?’

‘Because I was,’ he practically roared, the words sounding as if they’d been torn from somewhere deep, deep inside him.

Bella froze. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped. ‘What?’

Will sighed, took a step back and raked his hands through his hair. ‘I
was
unfaithful, Bella. Only once. But it was enough.’

Bella stared at him in complete shock. ‘When?’

‘Years ago. When I was twenty-three.’

‘But why? What happened?’

He twisted away from her. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’

‘Well, that’s tough,’ she said, moving back into his line of vision. ‘Because I do. I’ve just told you I love you. The very least you can give me is an explanation as to why you can’t do the same.’

‘There isn’t a lot to explain.’

‘Then it shouldn’t take long.’

‘Fine,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I had a girlfriend. I was unfaithful to her. End of story.’

Definitely not the end of the story. ‘Why?’

He glanced at her and frowned. ‘What difference does that make?’

‘It makes all the difference in the world, because I don’t believe you’d sleep with someone else for the sake of it.’ Despite currently behaving like a stubborn idiot, he had far too much integrity. If he had been unfaithful then there must have been a very good reason for it.

Will shoved his hands through his hair. ‘Tania and I went out for around six months. She was bipolar. Not that either of
us knew then. In my naivety I thought she had one of those extreme personalities. When she was on a high it was thrilling and I was only too happy to go along for the ride.’ He shrugged. ‘But then she started behaving strangely. Going off on her own and drinking more. For a while I thought it might have had something to do with me.’

He gave her a melancholic little smile and her heart twanged. ‘It couldn’t have been you.’

‘I know. At the time, though, I didn’t know what to believe. My mother had just died and my father started being difficult, not that that’s any excuse. Anyway, the depression spiralled out of control so swiftly … I guess I didn’t know how to cope. I just sort of unravelled.’

Bella’s throat stung. ‘You were young.’

Will sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Not that young. I should have been able to handle it. Instead, after one particularly harrowing weekend I went to a bar, drank myself into oblivion and woke up in a stranger’s bed.’

And he was still riddled with guilt. It was in his eyes and in his expression. ‘What happened after that?’

‘I immediately went round to her flat and confessed everything.’

‘And?’

‘We split up. She moved in with her parents and I went to the Cayman Islands.’

‘Did you ever see her again?’

Will nodded. ‘A couple of years later we met up for a drink when I was here for a conference. We talked. She’d got a lot better and told me she didn’t blame me. That she’d have probably done the same if the roles had been reversed.’

Bella tilted her head and wished there were something she could say to take away the guilt and the torment filling his eyes. ‘Everyone makes mistakes, Will. Especially when they’re young.’

‘Yes, but not quite like the one I made.’

She tilted her head. ‘Well, no. But you don’t seriously think you’d do it again, do you?’

His expression turned bleak. ‘It’s not a risk I’m prepared to take.’

Bella’s heart wobbled as the world seemed to stop turning for a moment. ‘Ever?’

‘Ever.’

‘Then I feel sorry for you. Because based on a very specific set of circumstances that took place years ago you’re depriving yourself of the chance to find true happiness. And that’s a tragedy.’

His jaw was set, his expression implacable. ‘How can you say that with such certainty? How can you can believe in love and faith and happily ever after when you’ve never had it?’

‘Because I’m an optimist. Because I know it’s out there and I’ve seen it. And because
I
don’t let my past rule my life.
I
don’t run and hide when my demons leap in front of me.’

Will shrugged and his eyes went bleak. ‘Then you’re stronger than I am.’

That was ridiculous. She’d never seen strength like his and to see him not want to fight for them was agonising. ‘She forgave you, Will,’ Bella said, silently pleading with him to give them a chance. ‘Why can’t you forgive yourself?’

‘I just can’t.’

And with those three words all her hopes and dreams crashed to the ground, smashing into smithereens at her feet while her heart splintered into a million pieces. ‘I see,’ she said, somehow managing to pull her shoulders back and give him a shaky smile because she couldn’t let herself fall apart in front of him. ‘So this really is it.’

He nodded. ‘It really is.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

O
F ALL
the ways to spend a Saturday, attending a wedding when she was feeling so miserable and wretched wouldn’t have been her number one choice, thought Bella bleakly, staring at the flowers at the front of the church and swallowing back the ball of misery that seemed to be lodged in her throat pretty much permanently these days.

She really hadn’t wanted to come. Not when she was feeling so listless, so lacking in energy and sparkle and so damn sad.

But Phoebe, who’d prised the whole sorry story out of her over a bottle of wine one evening—thankfully managing to refrain from battering her with a string of ‘told you so’s—had begged her to think about it, and in the end she’d refused to let her wretchedness spill over onto her friend’s happiness.

So she’d hauled on a suitable outfit, slapped on several gallons of anti-puffiness eye cream and an entire tubeful of highlighter, and here she was. Sitting several pews back from the altar, next to one of the many single eligible men Phoebe had told her were in attendance, and trying to focus on the colourful array of hats instead of the ache in her heart.

At least there wasn’t any danger of bumping into Will, she thought dully. Phoebe had told her that he’d sent an email from the Cayman Islands saying he wouldn’t be able to make
it, and Bella had managed to convince herself that this was a huge relief.

How she’d got through the last fortnight she’d never know. At first, like a fool, she’d envisaged scenarios in which Will came to his senses, pitched up on her doorstep, told her he’d been an idiot and swept her into his arms. Because she’d been so sure he loved her, so sure that they’d connected in a way that went far deeper than sex.

But how wrong she’d been. He hadn’t pitched up on her doorstep and swept her into his arms, and as the days had passed she’d sunk further and further into despair. Work had been impossible and wafting around her flat, every inch of which held one memory of Will or another, had been agonising.

Eventually, unable to stand London and moping around it any longer, Bella had gone to stay with her mother. After a couple of days, however, the goats and the homoeopathic advice had got too much and she’d come back because no amount of arnica could heal her battered soul.

It was so frustrating, she thought as her heart squeezed and her vision blurred. She
knew
she and Will could have been happy together if only he’d given them a chance. Why couldn’t he see that nothing in life was guaranteed? That nothing was certain. That all that anyone could hope for was to have love and respect and trust, and hope that that was enough.

She really didn’t want to have to come to terms with the fact that Will, the stubborn jerk, might be too damaged by what he’d done to ever let himself get close to anyone ever again. But what alternative did she have?

The image of his face, his smile, the light in his eyes when he shot her a glance, floated into her head and her throat tightened. She hiccuped and stared determinedly at the ceiling. At least here if she burst into tears, as she was prone to do at
the drop of a hat, everyone would think she was overcome with emotion at the happiness of the occasion.

With any luck, she told herself as the organ struck up and she got to her feet, within an hour or so her emotions would be overcome with champagne.

What in God’s name was he doing here? Will wondered for the millionth time, shifting on the pew at the back of the church and running a finger around the inside of his collar. He was supposed to be at home. Five thousand miles away. Working. Or at least trying to. At the very least he was supposed to be staying away and giving Bella the chance to get over him, the way he was getting over her.

So what had made him leap up from his desk at three o’clock yesterday afternoon and tell his team that they’d be holding the fort for the next few days? What had made him pay a fortune for a last minute plane ticket to London, grab his morning suit and instruct his butler to prepare the house for him? And what had made him take a trip to Bond Street the second he’d landed?

It was so rash, so out of character, that it scared the hell out of him. But then he couldn’t remember the last time that his behaviour had been
in
character.

Nor could he remember a time when Bella wasn’t in his head.

Getting over her? Ha. That was a joke. So much for telling himself as he watched her walk away the evening they’d parted that the memory of her would fade. So much for convincing himself he’d done the right thing. That he’d been protecting them both.

The anguish in her eyes and on her face when he’d told her that he wouldn’t ever risk loving her had been haunting his dreams. The accusations she’d flung at him had been battering away at his brain constantly until he’d been forced to acknowledge
that walking away might not have been the right thing to do at all.

Bella, on the other hand, had been right about everything. How could he ever have thought that there was nothing special about her? How could he ever have convinced himself that he’d have spilled his guts about his parents and the truth about the collection to anyone? How could he have been so blind? How could he have rejected everything she’d offered?

God, he was sick of running and hiding. He was sick of being alone and tired of the endless guilt. Didn’t he deserve a stab at happiness? Didn’t Bella? Didn’t everyone?

Look at Alex, standing at the altar looking down at Phoebe as if they were the only two people in the church, and saying the vows that Will had always been so sceptical about. There was no way Alex could be certain that what he had with Phoebe was going to last. No way he could know that he wasn’t going to let her down ever.

But maybe that was the point, Will thought, the blood pumping around his veins a fraction faster than normal as all the random strands of thinking he’d unwillingly done over the course of the last few weeks merged into one.

Maybe no one could ever know anything for certain. Maybe if you loved someone enough, if you’d found everything you’d ever wanted in that one person, you just had to take a leap of faith. Maybe if you believed in yourselves and each other, you could get through anything.

He rubbed his chest as his stomach churned and his head pounded and all the hopes and dreams he’d managed to bury for years sprang to life. His pulse began to thunder as the possibilities opened up before him and for the first time in his life he caught a glimpse of what he could have if only he gave himself a break.

‘Are you all right?’

Will blinked and turned to the elderly lady on his left.

‘I’m not sure,’ he murmured. He didn’t think he’d been all right for quite a while.

She brought out a flask from beneath her coat and offered it to him. ‘Brandy. Have some.’

‘No, thanks,’ he said, with the hint of a smile. He didn’t need brandy. He didn’t need anything. Except Bella. God, how he needed her.

But was it really that simple? Would Bella ever forgive him for being such a stubborn, selfish fool? Or had she got over him and moved on days ago?

Blind panic speared through him at the thought that he might have screwed everything up for good and his whole body went cold. And then he forced himself to calm down, because that was not an option. In fact the sooner he sorted this out, the better, he thought firmly, scouring the congregation for her and desperately hoping he hadn’t left it too late.

And then he saw her. Sitting on the other side of the church looking wan but gorgeous and staring at the ceiling and Will realised with a blinding flash of clarity that it was that simple and he knew exactly why he’d come.

He’d deliberately blown one chance of happiness. He didn’t intend blowing another.

Bella clutched at her glass of champagne and wished it were a bucket to which she had the only straw. Her face ached with the effort of maintaining the rictus grin she’d been wearing for the last half an hour, and she wasn’t sure she could manage much more in the way of chat. She congratulated the bride and groom, who looked so happy that it made her heart bleed with both delight and, she was ashamed to admit, envy, and that was the main thing. Now she could drink herself into oblivion without having to worry about sounding sensible. She took another sip of her second—or was it third?—
glass of champagne and tuned out of the conversation rattling around her.