to close as Abi regained her senses. ‘No, I’m here to see Damien.’
‘And you are?’
‘I’m Abi, I work with him.’ Why had she said that? She wasn’t here in a work capacity. She was here because she and Damien had made plans to take Summer out for pizza. And why was anything she did any of this woman’s business? But she was too stunned to think of a better retort.
‘He’s in the shower,’ the woman said, as she continued to stand in the doorway. She made no attempt to get out of the way and Abi was certain she was about to shut the door in her face. She certainly didn’t appear about to invite her in.
Abi could see Damien over the woman’s shoulder. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt but the buttons were open and his feet were bare. He looked half-dressed. His hair was damp from the shower and he was buttoning his shirt as he came towards her, glancing anxiously from her to the woman and back again. He looked surprised to see her, almost as if he’d forgotten about their arrangement, and from the expression on his face she was certain he hadn’t been expecting her. But she couldn’t blame him. This woman would certainly be more than enough to distract most men. But that still didn’t explain who she was.
‘Abi! You’ve met Brooke.’
Abi could feel the blood drain from her face and her hand automatically reached down to pat Jonty’s head. She needed the comforting, familiar feel of his warm, soft fur under her icy-cold fingers. She felt as if all the blood was draining from her body.
This stunning, self-assured woman was Brooke!
She looked at her again. She couldn’t help but compare herself to the ex-Mrs Moore.
She glowed golden. Her brown hair had been expertly highlighted and straightened and hung in a shiny curtain halfway down her back. Her face was smooth, unlined and her skin was lightly tanned. Abi’s trained eye had noted that Brooke’s nose was perfect for her face, symmetrical, small and narrow, and her legs were long and slim. Abi felt herself pale in comparison. She felt she was lacking something. She knew she was pretty enough in a young way, she could pass for a teenager some days, and that was the difference. Brooke was all woman. Confident and beautiful and self-satisfied.
‘I’ll go and finish getting ready,’ Brooke said as she shot Abi a smug look that implied she’d won and Abi had no doubt that Damien was the prize.
As she turned on her heel Abi wondered what it was she was getting ready for.
‘What is she doing here?’ Abi asked, when Damien made no move to invite her inside either.
‘I don’t know.’
That was a very unsatisfactory answer but Abi let it go for now. ‘Are we still going out for pizza?’
Damien shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I need to find out what Brooke wants.’
So this was how it was going to be, Abi thought. She was going to be shown the door in favour of his ex. She’d wondered where she fitted into the scheme of things, into his life, and now she knew. She could handle coming after his daughter and his career but she didn’t want to come after his wife, ex or not. She’d been in that position before and it had ended badly. She wouldn’t willingly put herself in that position again.
‘Why didn’t you call me to cancel?’ she asked. She wouldn’t have turned up if she’d known. She’d had no desire to meet or even see Brooke. Not without some warning. She wasn’t prepared for this.
‘I didn’t know she was coming. She turned up without warning.’
‘What for?’
‘I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to find out.’
Abi’s first response was to panic. She didn’t want to confront Damien’s past—if that was what Brooke was. What was she doing here and what did it mean for Damien and Summer? What did it mean for her?
She knew what it meant. She only had to look at Brooke to know.
It meant the fairytale was over. She didn’t get to live happily ever after. She didn’t get the prince.
‘I’ll leave you alone, then, to enjoy your evening,’ she said. There was no discussion between her fight and flight responses. Her flight response took over and she turned around and walked down the path, wanting to get away before she dissolved into tears, wanting to run and hide as humiliation crashed over her, shattering her ridiculous dreams into millions of tiny fragments that fell around her.
DAMIEN STOOD AND watched her leave. He was torn, caught between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to go after her, he knew he should go after her, but he didn’t trust Brooke. He didn’t know why she was there and he had a bad feeling about her reasons.
In the shock accompanying Brooke’s unannounced arrival he’d completely forgotten the plans he’d made with Abi. If he’d remembered he would have called her to postpone. The last thing he’d wanted had been for the two of them to meet and the only thing that could make matters worse was if they’d met without him present. He had no idea what had transpired between them but he could only assume Brooke wouldn’t have been particularly welcoming. She had a jealous, possessive nature and even though she didn’t want him, he had no doubt that she wouldn’t want to know that someone else did.
He didn’t want Brooke to know about Abi, he didn’t want her to start asking questions, so he definitely would have made other arrangements. Not that he could have explained what was going on. He really didn’t know what Brooke was doing there but there was sure to be a reason. It would be more than just a visit to see Summer. There was always an ulterior motive as far as his manipulative, scheming ex-wife was concerned. Sure, she did it with charm, using her feminine wiles and acting skills to her advantage, but that didn’t change the fact that there was always something to be gained for her. But, at the moment, he hadn’t worked out what it was and until he knew the details he wasn’t about to leave her alone.
Abi, for all her issues, was far less complicated, far more trusting. There’d be time to sort things out later with her, time to explain, so he let her go. He needed to conserve his energy to deal with Brooke. No doubt there was bound to be some drama or demand, and now it was time to face her music.
* * *
Abi had checked her phone a thousand times on Friday night after she’d run from Damien’s but he hadn’t called once. She’d worked herself up into a fever of indignation, shame and anger and had eventually switched her phone off. She didn’t want to be mocked by its silence. She spent the rest of the night imagining all the sorts of things Damien and Brooke might be doing. She knew she was jumping to conclusions but he’d looked so awkward and uncomfortable when she’d appeared on his doorstep, so guilty, that of course her imagination had gone into overdrive.
It appeared she did have a type after all—good-looking, charming men who were only interested in getting her into bed. Did she deliberately choose men who would treat her badly? A psychiatrist would probably tell her it was all connected to issues with her father.
What would Caroline tell her? She knew her psychologist would berate her for thinking unkind thoughts about Damien when he’d done nothing to deserve them, but
