enough
to deal with without having you interfering in my life as well? You left me,
remember? Not the other way around.”
He cocked his
head at her, his bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout.
“And don’t
think you’re going to get by me with one of your stupid puppy-dog faces.” She
pushed past him, her hands clenched at her side to stop her from punching him
on the chin.
Fergus, who
until then had been silently observing from the sidelines, stepped aside as she
charged from the kitchen. From behind her, she heard him say, “I think it’s
time you left, mate.”
“I’m not your
mate,” Trent retorted, his tone suddenly sharp, “whatever the fuck your name
is.”
Uh oh . She spun around and headed back to the kitchen before it could
degenerate any further.
“Although it’s
none of your business,” she said to Trent, positioning herself between the two
men, “Fergus is a good friend of mine. He’s actually here because I invited him
in.” She pointed a finger at her ex-husband’s chest. “You, I didn’t!”
“Are you
screwing him?”
She gasped.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough.” It crossed her mind to say yes, and if Fergus
hadn’t been standing there, she might have. Maybe then Trent would realize her
world didn’t revolve around him. Before she could physically evict him,
Fergus’s mobile phone rang.
He checked the
caller display. “Grant,” he said, already moving away. “I should take it.”
She tried to
hear what Fergus was saying, but then Trent sidled up to her. “Not your usual
type,” he said, nodding in Fergus’s direction.
She bit down
hard, refusing to rise to the bait. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with the
future Mrs James?”
Bewilderment
and something else she didn’t recognize flashed across his unshaven face, his
mouth twisting. “What?” he stammered.
She studied his
features, trying to read his expression. “Haven’t you answered your phone at all
today? Or at least cleared your messages?”
He patted his
shirt pocket and then his trouser pockets. “What the hell did I do with it?”
Gripping her
upper arms, he brought his face in so close she could see every vein in his
bloodshot eyes. She felt his tremor; smelt his stale, alcohol-laced breath.
“Tell me,” he
demanded. “Tell me what’s happened.”
She shook him
off, rubbing her arms where his fingers had dug in as she stepped out of his
reach. Either he had honed his acting skills or he genuinely didn’t know. But
then again he had always been a convincing liar.
“I don’t know
how bad she is, Trent, but Selena’s in The Alfred with head injuries and
suspected concussion. We think someone hit her over the back of the head. You
should be with her—”
“Good news,”
Fergus said, walking in from the hall. “The scans were clear. Ms Papa is
conscious and out of immediate danger. They’ll be keeping her under observation
for a day or two, though.” He stopped beside Desley, nodding at Trent. “And
you’ll be happy to know, Trent Junior doesn’t seem to have suffered any ill
effects from the trauma.”
For a few long
seconds, Desley couldn’t breathe in or out. Looking at Trent, she watched his
Adam’s apple bob up and down, saw the torment in his eyes and immediately
understood. He bowed his head, averting his gaze.
“Oh God,
Trent,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She knew how much he had wanted
children. After all, they had tried for over three years themselves without
success, only giving up when fertility tests showed Trent could never father a
child. The news had crushed him and he had never really fully recovered. It had
marked the beginning of the end of their marriage. No matter how hard she tried
to convince him it didn’t change how she felt about him, he wouldn’t believe her.
Perhaps womanizing had been his way of proving to himself that he was still a
man.
Fergus gave her
a strange look. Glad he was there but hoping he wouldn’t interfere,
to deal with without having you interfering in my life as well? You left me,
remember? Not the other way around.”
He cocked his
head at her, his bottom lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout.
“And don’t
think you’re going to get by me with one of your stupid puppy-dog faces.” She
pushed past him, her hands clenched at her side to stop her from punching him
on the chin.
Fergus, who
until then had been silently observing from the sidelines, stepped aside as she
charged from the kitchen. From behind her, she heard him say, “I think it’s
time you left, mate.”
“I’m not your
mate,” Trent retorted, his tone suddenly sharp, “whatever the fuck your name
is.”
Uh oh . She spun around and headed back to the kitchen before it could
degenerate any further.
“Although it’s
none of your business,” she said to Trent, positioning herself between the two
men, “Fergus is a good friend of mine. He’s actually here because I invited him
in.” She pointed a finger at her ex-husband’s chest. “You, I didn’t!”
“Are you
screwing him?”
She gasped.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough.” It crossed her mind to say yes, and if Fergus
hadn’t been standing there, she might have. Maybe then Trent would realize her
world didn’t revolve around him. Before she could physically evict him,
Fergus’s mobile phone rang.
He checked the
caller display. “Grant,” he said, already moving away. “I should take it.”
She tried to
hear what Fergus was saying, but then Trent sidled up to her. “Not your usual
type,” he said, nodding in Fergus’s direction.
She bit down
hard, refusing to rise to the bait. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with the
future Mrs James?”
Bewilderment
and something else she didn’t recognize flashed across his unshaven face, his
mouth twisting. “What?” he stammered.
She studied his
features, trying to read his expression. “Haven’t you answered your phone at all
today? Or at least cleared your messages?”
He patted his
shirt pocket and then his trouser pockets. “What the hell did I do with it?”
Gripping her
upper arms, he brought his face in so close she could see every vein in his
bloodshot eyes. She felt his tremor; smelt his stale, alcohol-laced breath.
“Tell me,” he
demanded. “Tell me what’s happened.”
She shook him
off, rubbing her arms where his fingers had dug in as she stepped out of his
reach. Either he had honed his acting skills or he genuinely didn’t know. But
then again he had always been a convincing liar.
“I don’t know
how bad she is, Trent, but Selena’s in The Alfred with head injuries and
suspected concussion. We think someone hit her over the back of the head. You
should be with her—”
“Good news,”
Fergus said, walking in from the hall. “The scans were clear. Ms Papa is
conscious and out of immediate danger. They’ll be keeping her under observation
for a day or two, though.” He stopped beside Desley, nodding at Trent. “And
you’ll be happy to know, Trent Junior doesn’t seem to have suffered any ill
effects from the trauma.”
For a few long
seconds, Desley couldn’t breathe in or out. Looking at Trent, she watched his
Adam’s apple bob up and down, saw the torment in his eyes and immediately
understood. He bowed his head, averting his gaze.
“Oh God,
Trent,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She knew how much he had wanted
children. After all, they had tried for over three years themselves without
success, only giving up when fertility tests showed Trent could never father a
child. The news had crushed him and he had never really fully recovered. It had
marked the beginning of the end of their marriage. No matter how hard she tried
to convince him it didn’t change how she felt about him, he wouldn’t believe her.
Perhaps womanizing had been his way of proving to himself that he was still a
man.
Fergus gave her
a strange look. Glad he was there but hoping he wouldn’t interfere,
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