she
acknowledged his presence with a raised hand. He nodded and moved back.
She took a step
toward Trent, her hand outstretched. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his
head, not looking up.
“Do you want to
see Selena?” she asked, not knowing what else to say. “Would you like me to
drive you to the hospital?”
Another
headshake, a flop of blond hair hiding his eyes.
“I need to make
a phone call,” Fergus said, his voice unnaturally loud. “I’ll just be outside
if you need me.”
Glancing over
her shoulder at him, she mouthed a thanks. With Fergus out of earshot, Trent
might be more inclined to open up.
“Wanker,” Trent
muttered.
“Pardon?” she
said, hoping she had misheard.
He lifted his
head, his dejected expression hardening into a bitter mask. “Your new playmate
trying to play the big man.”
She glared at
him, any compassion she might have felt for him dissolving. “Why do I bother?
Whenever someone tries to help, you lash out at them. You really are your own
worst enemy.”
His face
slackened, his eyes and mouth droopy in self-pity. Before she could stop him,
he grabbed her hands, clutching them to his chest. “Please, Des…”
She wrenched
her hands from his grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He hung his
head without answering, the grain pattern in the wooden floorboards evidently
more compelling.
“What is it you
want from me, Trent? I gave you everything I had when we were married. I don’t
have anything left to give.”
“We all make
mistakes.”
She sighed. How
many times did they have to go through this charade? “Yes, but some of us learn
from ours.”
“I can change,
Des,” he said advancing toward her. “Let me prove it to you.”
She backed
away, her hands palm out in front of her. “No. You can’t come running to me
every time something goes wrong in your life.”
He scratched
his stubbly chin, surveying her face.
“Now,” she
said, “do you want that lift to the hospital or not?”
“She told me it
was mine, but you and I both know that’s impossible. She’s carrying another
man’s baby, Des.”
So neither
of them had been honest with the other , Desley
thought. Trent had obviously neglected to mention the small matter of his
infertility when he asked Selena to marry him. She in return had cheated on him
and tried to pass off the resulting pregnancy as his. Like attracting like?
“Whose is it,
then, Trent?”
He blew out a
mouthful of air and wiped a hand across his mouth. “I need a drink.”
Following him
into the living room, she realized not only had he broken into her house, he
had helped himself to her liquor cabinet; not that a half bottle of Cointreau,
a liter of duty-free Bombay Sapphire gin and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black
Label – a gift from a client – constituted a bar. He upended what was left of
the whisky into his glass.
“Don’t worry,
I’ll replace it,” he said, waving a hand over the empty bottle.
She stayed
standing as he flopped down onto the red leather couch, slinging one arm across
the back.
“Who’s the
father of my fiancée’s baby, you ask? Well…” He paused, throwing back half the
contents of the glass in one gulp. “I have my suspicions. Bastard takes what he
wants, when he wants.”
Sounded vaguely
familiar.
“Don’t look at
me like that. I’m nothing like Ryan Moore.”
CHAPTER 10
“…Laura’s Ryan…” Fergus heard
Desley say as he returned to the living room.
He loitered in
the doorway for a moment. Desley stood less than two meters away from him with
one foot and her body angled toward the door, her head turned to the right. Her
ex-husband lounged across her red couch as if he owned the place, his stocking
feet crossed at the ankles on the giant dice coffee table. Neither noticed him.
“Yep, one and the
sa—” Trent spotted him, his eyes narrowing.
Desley followed
his gaze. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,”
Fergus said, his voice
acknowledged his presence with a raised hand. He nodded and moved back.
She took a step
toward Trent, her hand outstretched. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his
head, not looking up.
“Do you want to
see Selena?” she asked, not knowing what else to say. “Would you like me to
drive you to the hospital?”
Another
headshake, a flop of blond hair hiding his eyes.
“I need to make
a phone call,” Fergus said, his voice unnaturally loud. “I’ll just be outside
if you need me.”
Glancing over
her shoulder at him, she mouthed a thanks. With Fergus out of earshot, Trent
might be more inclined to open up.
“Wanker,” Trent
muttered.
“Pardon?” she
said, hoping she had misheard.
He lifted his
head, his dejected expression hardening into a bitter mask. “Your new playmate
trying to play the big man.”
She glared at
him, any compassion she might have felt for him dissolving. “Why do I bother?
Whenever someone tries to help, you lash out at them. You really are your own
worst enemy.”
His face
slackened, his eyes and mouth droopy in self-pity. Before she could stop him,
he grabbed her hands, clutching them to his chest. “Please, Des…”
She wrenched
her hands from his grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He hung his
head without answering, the grain pattern in the wooden floorboards evidently
more compelling.
“What is it you
want from me, Trent? I gave you everything I had when we were married. I don’t
have anything left to give.”
“We all make
mistakes.”
She sighed. How
many times did they have to go through this charade? “Yes, but some of us learn
from ours.”
“I can change,
Des,” he said advancing toward her. “Let me prove it to you.”
She backed
away, her hands palm out in front of her. “No. You can’t come running to me
every time something goes wrong in your life.”
He scratched
his stubbly chin, surveying her face.
“Now,” she
said, “do you want that lift to the hospital or not?”
“She told me it
was mine, but you and I both know that’s impossible. She’s carrying another
man’s baby, Des.”
So neither
of them had been honest with the other , Desley
thought. Trent had obviously neglected to mention the small matter of his
infertility when he asked Selena to marry him. She in return had cheated on him
and tried to pass off the resulting pregnancy as his. Like attracting like?
“Whose is it,
then, Trent?”
He blew out a
mouthful of air and wiped a hand across his mouth. “I need a drink.”
Following him
into the living room, she realized not only had he broken into her house, he
had helped himself to her liquor cabinet; not that a half bottle of Cointreau,
a liter of duty-free Bombay Sapphire gin and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black
Label – a gift from a client – constituted a bar. He upended what was left of
the whisky into his glass.
“Don’t worry,
I’ll replace it,” he said, waving a hand over the empty bottle.
She stayed
standing as he flopped down onto the red leather couch, slinging one arm across
the back.
“Who’s the
father of my fiancée’s baby, you ask? Well…” He paused, throwing back half the
contents of the glass in one gulp. “I have my suspicions. Bastard takes what he
wants, when he wants.”
Sounded vaguely
familiar.
“Don’t look at
me like that. I’m nothing like Ryan Moore.”
CHAPTER 10
“…Laura’s Ryan…” Fergus heard
Desley say as he returned to the living room.
He loitered in
the doorway for a moment. Desley stood less than two meters away from him with
one foot and her body angled toward the door, her head turned to the right. Her
ex-husband lounged across her red couch as if he owned the place, his stocking
feet crossed at the ankles on the giant dice coffee table. Neither noticed him.
“Yep, one and the
sa—” Trent spotted him, his eyes narrowing.
Desley followed
his gaze. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,”
Fergus said, his voice
Similar Books
