They had both been guilty, she knew that. But Sophie had still been a child in many ways and her mother had left her in no doubt that she wasn't good enough, not any more. That Sophie's own style, her own wishes, her own hobbies were wrong and behind her bravado her fledgling self-confidence had begun to crumble.
'That was a long time ago. How are things now?'
'Fragile,' she admitted. 'Uncomfortable. That's why I rarely go back to Manchester.' She found a smile. 'See, we do have some things in common.' But their solutions to their family problems had been drastically different. Marco had taken control of his life, made a huge success out of his passions, his business. Sophie? She had run from one controlling situation to another.
She took another sip of the comforting tea and tried to order her thoughts. She hadn't spoken about Harry since the day she had finally come to her senses and walked out of the door. If she told Marco, it would be like probing a wound to see if it had really healed or still bubbled with infection.
'Like I said, I was a bit of a loner and really naïve. Ripe to be exploited. I met Harry at one of his gigs. He was the singer-all brash confidence and raw sexuality. I had never seen or spoken to anybody like him before and I was besotted before we even spoke. When he singled me out I thought I was the luckiest girl alive. It was every teen cliché come true. My parents hated him, of course. He was older than me for a start, arrogant, entitled. Looking back, he was just really rude, but I thought he was authentic and being true to himself. The more they tried to stop me seeing him, the more attractive he got.'
'How old were you?'
'Seventeen, a really young seventeen. I thought I was Juliet, of course, brimful of forbidden love.' Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. 'There is nothing more guaranteed to drive your hormonal teenaged daughter into the arms of a complete sod than to try to stop her seeing him. If they'd relaxed and made him welcome, or at least pretended to, maybe I'd have seen the truth a lot sooner.'
Maybe.
'Things were tense for a year. Home was like a battlefield, every sentence an ambush. My parents couldn't cope. Their sweet, biddable daughter had been replaced by a foul-mouthed hellion. I drank, stayed out all night, ditched school-and of course Harry encouraged me all the way. It shouldn't be an excuse, but, remember, I needed approval to feel loved and Harry's approval was intoxicating. I lived for it-and he knew it. Eventually my dad put his foot down in a "not in my house, young lady, you live in these walls you obey my rules" kind of way and I said "fine". Packed my bags and walked out the day I turned eighteen.'
He echoed her thoughts. 'We're both runaways, then. You're right, we do have something in common.'
'Only, you moved to a new city and started a successful business. I moved into a squat three miles away and became a cook, cleaner, cheerleader and paid heavily for the privilege. Harry had me exactly where he wanted me. My original plan had been to go to college and study art and textiles while living with him, but he persuaded me I'd be wasting my time. That I wasn't that talented, that original.' To her horror she could feel the tears gathering in her eyes and swiped her sleeve angrily against them. 'He said I'd be of more use getting a job so we could get a flat-obviously he was too busy being a musician to dirty his hands with real work. So instead of college I worked in a greasy spoon café. I was there for six years. I paid for our flat and our food. I cleaned our flat. I cooked our food. I soon learned not to ask Harry to do anything, not to expect anything from him. Including fidelity.'
She swiped her eyes again. 'I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it too. Why did I put up with it? Why did I let him treat me that way? I think it every day. He made me feel like I was completely worthless, that I couldn't do anything, be anyone without him. That I was lucky to have him. And I believed him. The worst part is that every now and then he'd do something sweet, remind me why I fell in love with him in the first place. I lived for those moments, craved them, would lie there every night he didn't come home and relive every one of them.'
His hands had curled into fists and a primal part of him welcomed his anger. 'He didn't deserve you. You know that, right? You left, you got away.'
'Eventually. We were at a wedding and when he saw the head bridesmaid his tongue was practically hanging out. I'd turned a blind eye to his flings before, but when he kissed her on the dance floor-in front of his friends and family-I knew I had to get out before he destroyed me completely. I called a taxi, packed my things and went straight to the train station. I didn't trust myself not to waver if I saw him.'
'That was very brave.'
'I was running on adrenaline,' she admitted. 'If I'd thought about what I was doing, moving on my own to a city I didn't know, to a place where I knew no one, I would have just given up.'
But he was shaking his head. 'You're stronger than you think, Sophie. When I look at you I don't see a victim or weakness. I see a survivor. I see resilience. I see strength.'
Warmth flooded through her, not just because of his words but because of the respect she saw in his eyes. 'It's been a slow journey, Marco. I don't feel strong, not all the time. I've worked really hard to get to this place. My flat is tiny and horribly overpriced, but I pay the rent for me. It's my home, my sanctuary. I've finally put my designs out in the world. I have friends here, good friends. I'm my own person.'
'You'd still be your own person if you married me. I wouldn't stand in your way.'
She would give anything to believe him-but she didn't. 'When I told you about the baby you went into decision-making overdrive. We would do this, I would do that, this is how it would be. I know you were thinking of me and the baby, but I can't live like that, Marco, not again.'
He had paled, his eyes hard. 'You think I'm like your ex? That I would control you? Put you down?'
'No, no...' She reached a hand out to him. 'You're nothing like Harry. Your kindness was one of the first things I lo...liked about you. But you do like things your own way. That's why you moved to London in the first place. You're used to being in charge and I won't risk losing myself. I won't be the peacemaker, the compromiser again. I can't.'
She needed him to understand, desperately hoped that he did, but his mouth was grim.
'I understand, Sophie, I really do. But this isn't just about you, not any more. You might not like it, but my role now is to take care of you and our baby and I won't let you push me aside. You've come a long way, but you need to learn to let go, to trust me not to hurt you.'
She opened her mouth to tell him she did, but she couldn't say the words. He sighed. 'There's a difference between protecting you and controlling you. I have to do the first, but I can promise you I'll never do the second. I'm here, Sophie, for you and for our baby and I'm not going anywhere. The sooner you accept that, the better. Thanks for the drink. I'll see myself out.'
She sat frozen as he got to his feet. Two seconds later the door clicked behind him and he was gone. Part of her was relieved he still wanted to be involved, that she wouldn't have to bring the baby up alone, but his parting words rang in her ears. The sooner you accept that, the better. He was wrong; she wasn't accepting anything and no man would ever tell her what she could or could not do ever again. 'Damn you, Marco,' she whispered as she got wearily to her feet, the cold bone deep inside her. 'Why didn't you ask me what I want rather than telling me what you think I need?'
He said he respected her, now she needed him to show it. It was a poor substitute for love, but Sophie suspected it was all she was going to get. The question was, would it be enough?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
'ARE YOU SURE you don't want me to come with you? Hold your hand?'
Sophie smiled, touched at the concern in Ashleigh's voice. 'It's a scan. I don't think it hurts.'
'That's not the point,' her friend said firmly. 'It's a huge moment, and on Valentine's Day too. You're going to need someone to hold the tissues.'
'I'm not dragging you away from Lukas on your first Valentine's Day. What kind of best friend do you think I am? Besides, it's different for you loved-up types, but I've never made a fuss about the fourteenth of February. It's just a day.'
Ashleigh's voice took on the dreamy tinge she always used when talking about Lukas. 'I think Lukas is planning dinner in Paris from all the not so subtle hints, but we can get a later train. I don't mind at all.'
'No, go to Paris, be happy and in love. I'll email you a picture of the scan, okay?'