hurt. But what if he wanted to be involved? What if he wanted to meet her, to be a part of her life—and then ignored Ivy the same way he’d kept himself apart from Clara after they were married? What if he hurt Ivy with his distracted, even unintentional, neglect? Nothing had ever meant more to Jacob than his work—not even her. Why would Ivy be any different?
So even if he thought he wanted to be a father...could she really risk Ivy’s heart that way?
No. She had to be sure. And the only way to be certain was to spend time with him, to learn who he was all over again. Then she could decide, either to divorce him freely, or to let him into Ivy’s life, whichever was best for her daughter. That was all that mattered.
But to spend time with him she’d have to organise his perfect family Christmas. Could she really do that? With all her other clients, the Harrisons’ Charity Gala—and her own Christmas with Ivy? It was too much. And she was still too scared.
‘I’m sorry, Jacob. Really I am.’ She was; part of her heart hurt at the thought of James Foster suffering and her not being there to ease it. An even larger part, although she hated to admit it, stung at the idea of Jacob going through this without her too.
That’s not my place any more. It’s not my life.
She had to focus on the life she had, the one she’d built. Her new life for her and Ivy.
‘I can’t help you,’ she said, the words final and heavy.
Jacob gave her a slow, stiff nod. ‘Right. Of course.’ He turned away but as he reached the door he looked back, his eyes so full of sorrow and pain that Clara could have wept. ‘Please. Just think about it.’
I can’t. I can’t. I won’t. I... She nodded. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised and instantly hated herself.
This was why she’d had to leave. She could never say no to him.
* * *
I’ll think about it.
One year of marriage, five years of estrangement and now she was thinking. He supposed that was something.
Jacob paused briefly on the corner of the street, rain dripping down his collar, and watched from a distance as Clara locked up the offices of Perfect London and hurried off in the opposite direction. She was a woman on a mission; she clearly had somewhere far more important to be. Things that mattered much more in her life than her ex-husband.
Well. So did he, of course.
The office was deserted by the time he’d walked back across the river to it, but the security guard on duty didn’t look surprised to see him. Given how rarely Jacob made it to the London office, he wondered what that said about the legend of his work ethic.
But once he had sat at his desk he found he couldn’t settle. His eyes slid away from emails, and spreadsheets seemed to merge into one on the screen. Eventually, he closed the lid of his laptop, sat back in his chair and swung it around to take in the London skyline outside the window.
Was it just seeing Clara again that was distracting him? No. She didn’t have that kind of power over him any more. It was everything else in his life right now, most likely. His father’s illness more than anything.
His mobile phone vibrated on the glass desk, buzzing its way across the smooth surface. Jacob grabbed it and, seeing his younger sister’s name on the screen, smiled.
‘Heather. Why aren’t you out at some all-night rave or something? Isn’t that what you students do?’
He could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone.
‘We’re having a Christmas movie night at the flat,’ Heather said. ‘Mulled wine, mince pies, soppy movies and lots of wrapping paper. I was halfway through wrapping my stack of presents when it occurred to me that there was still one person who hadn’t got back to me about what they wanted...’
‘You don’t have to buy me anything,’ Jacob said automatically. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t buy whatever he wanted when he wanted it, anyway. And, besides, Heather, more than anyone, never owed him a gift. Her continued existence was plenty for him.
‘It’s Christmas, Jacob.’ She spoke slowly, as if to a slightly stupid dog. ‘Everyone gets a present. You know the rules. So tell me what you want or I’ll buy you a surprise.’
Only his sister could make a surprise gift sound like a threat. Although, given the tie she’d bought him last year, maybe it was.
‘A surprise will be lovely,’ he said, anyway. ‘Anything you think I’d like.’
‘You’re impossible.’ Heather sighed. ‘While I have you, when are you heading home for Christmas?’
‘Actually...’
‘Oh, no! Don’t say you’re not coming!’ She groaned dramatically. ‘Come on, Jacob! The office can cope for one day without you, you know. Especially since no one else will be working!’
Jacob blinked as an almost exact echo of Heather’s words flooded his memory—except this time it was Clara speaking them, over and over. He shook his head to disperse the memory.
‘That’s not what I was going to say,’ he said. ‘In fact... I went to see Clara today.’
‘Clara?’ Heather asked, the surprise clear in her voice. ‘Why? What on earth for?’
‘I wanted to ask for her help.’ He took a breath. Time to share the plan, he supposed. If Clara wouldn’t help, it would all fall on him and Heather anyway. ‘I was thinking about Dad. This is going to be his last Christmas, Heather, and I want it to be special.’
His sister went quiet. Jacob waited. He knew Heather was still struggling to come to terms with their father’s diagnosis. He wouldn’t rush her.
‘So, what have you got planned?’ she asked eventually.
‘Do you remember that year we hired that cottage in Scotland? You can only have been about five at the time, but we had a roaring log fire, stockings hung next to it, the biggest Christmas tree you’ve ever seen... It was everything Christmas is meant to be.’ It had also been the last Christmas before the accident. Before everything had changed in his relationship with his family.
‘You mean a movie-set Christmas,’ Heather joked. ‘But, yeah, I remember, I think. Bits of it, anyway. You want to do that again?’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘And what? You’re going to rope Clara into coming along to pretend that you’ve made up and everything is just rosy, just to keep Dad happy? Because, Jacob, that’s exactly the sort of stupid plan that will backfire when Dad defies all the doctors’ expectations.’
‘That’s not... No.’ That wasn’t the plan. He had no intention of pretending anything. Except, now that Heather had said it, he was already imagining what it would be like. Clara beside him on Christmas morning, opening presents together, his dad happy and smiling, seeing his family back together again...
But no. That was not the plan. The last thing he needed was to get embroiled with his
