grabbed the broom from the kitchen cupboard, and then stilled. She should take a moment to compose herself. Her hands were still shaking from the shock of seeing Jordan, and now her body was heated from their contact.
She hated that reminder of what he could do to her. Hated it even more that he could still do it to her, even after everything that had happened between them.
Why had he touched her anyway? She hadn’t been going to fall—she was pretty sure about that. It had just been the prospect of him staying—her stomach still churned at the thought—that had shaken her balance. And then, before she’d known it, she’d been in his arms, feeling comfort—and something else that she didn’t care to admit—for the first time since the accident that had ruined their lives.
She took a deep breath and, when she was sure she was as prepared as she could be to face him again, she returned to the living room.
And felt her breath hitch again when she saw him standing there.
He was leaner now, though his body was still strong, with muscles clearly defined beneath his clothing. Perhaps there were more muscles now, whatever excess weight there had been once now firm. His hair was shorter, though it was still shaggy, falling lazily over his forehead as though begging to be pushed aside. And then there was his face...those beautiful planes drawn into the serious expression she was becoming accustomed to.
‘We need to do something about the house,’ he said when he saw her, and moved to take the cleaning items away from her.
But he stopped when he saw the expression in her eyes—the coldness she had become so used to aiming at him to protect herself from pain—and she bent to pick up the pieces of glass.
‘I’ll be leaving in the morning,’ she said, grateful that he couldn’t see her face as she tidied up.
The idea of going back to the house that reminded her of all that she’d had—and all that she’d lost—made her feel sick. But what choice did she have?
After Jordan had left, she hadn’t been able to be alone in the place where it had all happened. So she’d escaped to their beach house in Gordons Bay for a few months, before Greg had asked her to move in with him. But the divorce meant that she no longer had any right to stay there, and since she had been renting before they’d got married the only thing she had was the house she’d lived in with Jordan. It was in her name after all.
But what did that matter when she couldn’t bring herself to think about what had happened there, let alone live there and having to face the memories over and over again...?
‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ he said.
Sure that she had got to all the pieces of glass that could be picked up by hand, she stood. ‘Not the only thing, maybe.’
She wondered how she could speak so coolly when her insides were twisted. But then, she was used to saying things despite her feelings. How many times had she bitten her tongue or said the thing people wanted to hear instead of saying what she really thought? The only difference now was that she was actually being honest.
‘Fine.’ The word was delivered through clenched teeth. ‘There is something else. Did you put him up to the ridiculous conditions of his will?’
Anger whipped through her, and she barely noticed her hand tighten on the dustpan.
‘No, Jordan, I didn’t. I don’t want to own a house with you, and I don’t want to plan an event with you.’
I just want to move on with my life.
He didn’t say anything immediately. ‘I don’t want that either.’
‘But we’ll have to.’
‘Because you want your half of the house, the vineyard?’
‘Because if we don’t you’ll lose your half of both, too.’
He didn’t deny her words, though she knew by the way his face tightened that he wanted to. It wasn’t so much at the truth of what she said, but at the fact that it was the truth. How could Jordan explain the fact that his father had left his house—and his share of the vineyard—to both his son and ex-daughter-in-law? For someone who valued logic as much as Jordan did, having no explanation for something this important must be eating at him.
‘I’m going to contest the will.’
The part of herself that Mila had felt softening immediately iced.
‘Based on what?’
‘On anything I can find. I won’t just accept this.’
And yet you just accepted it when I told you to give me space.
‘And if I don’t succeed in contesting the will...will you...will you sell your shares to me without any of the conditions?’
Pain sat on her chest at the question—the one she knew he’d wanted to ask since he had arrived—and forced words from her lips. ‘Yes, Jordan. If that’s possible, and if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.’
Unspoken words filled the air—memories of when he had said much the same thing to her at the end of their marriage—and she closed her eyes against them. When she was sure her emotions were in check—when she was sure that she was strong enough to look at him—she did.
And realised how different he was from the man she’d known...and loved.
She hadn’t noticed any of it when she’d seen him four months ago at his father’s funeral. He hadn’t looked at her then, she thought, too consumed by the grief of losing his only surviving parent—the man who had raised him—despite their complicated relationship. Or maybe because of it. She wasn’t even sure he knew she had only gone to the church and graveyard, not being able to bear spending time socialising after the death of the only man she’d ever thought of as a father.
After losing the last of the family she had.
Suddenly she felt incredibly weary.
‘I think it’s best if I go to bed now,’ she said, as the shock of seeing him finally caught up with her.
‘Wait,’ he said, and took her arm before she could walk out of the room.
She looked down at his hand as heat seared through her body at his touch, and quickly moved away. She didn’t want to think about the physical effect he had on her. The emotional one was already too much.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’ve arranged for a meeting with Mark Garrett in the morning. To see if I have grounds to contest. Since you’re willing to sell, I was hoping you would come with me.’
Her eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve made an appointment with your family lawyer? The executor of your father’s will?’ When he nodded, she said, ‘And you’re only telling me this now? When it’s beneficial to you?’
He looked at her, those golden eyes carefully blank of emotion. ‘I didn’t think you needed to be there.’
‘Because my inheritance doesn’t concern me, right? No, it’s fine. I get it.’ She shook her head when he opened
