A blast of rage came out of nowhere and he gripped his phone hard, fighting for control.
It was a losing battle.
‘You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Sent Cara to me so I’d fall in love with her,’ he said angrily, blood pumping hard through his body, and he leapt up from the bed and started to pace the room.
His heart gave an extra hard thump as the stunned silence at the other end of the line penetrated through his anger, bringing home to him exactly what he’d just said.
‘Are you in love with her?’ Poppy asked quietly, as if not wanting to break the spell.
He slapped the wall hard, feeling a sick satisfaction at the sting of pain in the palm of his hand. ‘Jemima’s only been dead for a year and a half.’
‘That has nothing to do with it, and it wasn’t what I asked you.’
He sighed and slumped back down onto the bed, battling to deal with the disorientating mass of emotions swirling though his head. ‘I don’t know, Poppy,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t know.’
‘If you don’t know, that probably means that you are but you’re too pig-headed to admit it to yourself.’
He couldn’t help but laugh. His friend knew him so well.
‘Is she in love with you?’ Poppy asked.
‘She says she is.’
He could almost feel his friend smiling on the other end of the phone.
Damn her.
‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ he said, ‘I’ve had a very long day and my flight back to London leaves at six o’clock in the morning,’ he finished, not wanting to protract this uncomfortable conversation any longer. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow after I’ve had some sleep and got my head straight, okay?’
‘Okay.’ There was a pause. ‘You deserve to be happy though, Max, you know that, don’t you? It’s what Jemima would have wanted.’
He cut the call and threw the phone onto the bed, staring sightlessly at the blank wall in front of him.
Did he deserve to be happy, after the way he’d acted? Was he worthy of a second chance?
There was only one person who could answer that question.
* * *
The house was quiet when he arrived home at eight-thirty the next morning. Eerily so.
Cara should have been up by now, having breakfast and getting ready for the day—if she was there.
His stomach sank with dread as he considered the possibility that she wasn’t. That she’d taken him at his word and walked away. Not that he could blame her.
Racing up the stairs, he came to an abrupt halt in front of her open bedroom door and peered inside. It was immaculate. And empty. As if she’d never been there.
Uncomfortable heat swamped him as he made his way slowly back down to the kitchen. Perhaps she hadn’t gone. Perhaps she’d had a tidying spree in her room, then gone out early to grab some breakfast or something.
But he knew that none of these guesses were right when he spotted her keys to the house and the company mobile he’d given her to use for all their communications sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.
The silence of the house seemed to press in on him, crushing his chest, and he slumped onto the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.
This was all wrong. All of it.
He didn’t want to stay in this house any longer; it was like living in a tomb. Or a shrine. Whatever it was, it felt wrong for him to be here now. Memories of the life he’d had here with Jemima were holding him back, preventing him from moving on and finding happiness again. Deep down, he knew Jem wouldn’t have wanted that for him. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted her to mourn him for the rest of her life.
She’d want him to be happy.
Like he had been on Sunday night.
He was in love with Cara.
Groaning loudly into his hands, he shook his head, unable to believe what a total idiot he’d been.
Memories of Cara flashed through his mind: her generous smile and kind gestures. Her standing up to him when it mattered to her most. Telling him she loved him.
His heart swelled with emotion, sending his blood coursing through his body and making it sing in his ears.
So this was living. How he’d missed it.
A loud ring on the doorbell made him jump.
Cara.
It had to be Cara, arriving promptly at nine o’clock for work like she always did.
Please, let it be her.
Tension tightened his muscles as he paced towards the door and flung it open, ready to say what he needed to say to her now. To be honest with her. To let her know how much he loved her and wanted her in his life.
‘Max Firebrace?’
Instead of Cara standing on his doorstep, there was a tall, red-haired woman in a suit giving him a broad smile.
‘Yes. Who are you?’ he said impatiently, not wanting to deal with anything but his need to speak to Cara right then.
She held out a hand. ‘I’m Donna, your new PA.’
The air seemed to freeze around him. ‘What?’
The smile she gave him was one of tolerant fortitude. ‘Cara said you might be surprised to see me because you’ve been in Ireland all week.’
‘Cara sent you here?’
‘Yes, she interviewed me yesterday and said I should start today.’
He stared at her, stunned. ‘Where is Cara?’
Donna looked confused. ‘Er... I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting her to be here. She said something about starting a new job for a firm in the City next week. We spent all of yesterday afternoon getting me up to speed with the things I need to do to fulfil the role and went through the systems you use here, so I assumed she’d already served her notice.’
So that was it then. He was too late to save the situation. She was gone.
‘You’d better come in,’ he muttered, frustration tugging hard at his insides.
‘So will we be working here the whole time? It’s a beautiful house,’ Donna said brightly, looking around the hall.
‘No. I’m going to rent an office soon,’ he said distractedly, his voice rough with panic.
How
