‘I hardly see you…’ She could have bitten her tongue off as the words spilled out, but Hunter just smiled.
‘Hey, you’re starting to sound like a real wife.’
‘I’m just not used to it,’ Lily said carefully, ‘I’m used to being…’ She flailed for the right word, struggled to retract the neediness that had crept into the conversation, to pull back from the line they had agreed not to cross. ‘I suppose I’m used to working more, going out with friends, hopping into my car for a drive…’
‘The summer holidays are over soon,’ Hunter reminded her. ‘You’ll be able to find out about finishing that degree and we’ve got a big charity ball at the weekend to go to. Why don’t you go and buy yourself something nice?’
He was trying to help, but he just didn’t understand, could never understand, because she simply couldn’t tell him—it wasn’t her day or her wardrobe that needed filling, it was her mind. Though over and over Lily told herself to relax and enjoy it, to make the best of their time together, to go with the flow and enjoy the experience with every buff the manicurist applied to her nails, with every glittering bauble Hunter showered her with she felt as if her own sparkle was fading, as if somehow he was draining her, would take his fill till there was nothing left then discard the carcass. But instead of telling him that she nodded, said yes because it was easier than saying no, accepted his offer because it was safer than arguing, safer than revealing what was really in her heart.
‘Right.’ He squeezed her thigh through the sheet and glanced at his watch. ‘Abigail will be…’ His voice trailed off as he stood up, and she watched as the colour drained from his face, as he screwed his eyes closed and sat back down. With mounting alarm she watched as he buried his face in his hands.
‘Hunter?’ Appalled, Lily knelt, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, but by then it was over, Hunter shaking his head as if to clear it and even looking faintly embarrassed as he let out a long breath.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘Are you OK?’ Her voice was urgent even though the moment had passed—the colour in his face normal now, there was even a rueful smile on his lips. But she knew what she’d seen, knew that just a moment ago he’d been about to pass out. ‘Hunter, you should lie down.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No,’ Lily argued, ‘you’re not. I’ll ring Abigail and tell her you’re taking the day off.’
‘Lily.’ He shrugged off concern, fixed her with a stare that told her to stay well back. ‘Now you’re really starting to scare me—you’re actually starting to act like a real wife.’ He flashed her a very on-off smile.
‘I’m allowed to worry about you, Hunter,’ Lily argued, refusing to back off, refusing to be silenced. ‘You keep getting these headaches, your schedule’s ridiculous. Sooner or later it has to catch up.’
‘Worrying about me isn’t in your job description,’ Hunter broke in, slapping her back with harsh words.
‘Oh, that’s right.’ Pulling the sheet around her, Lily headed for the bathroom, his words ricocheting through her, tears appallingly close. She was desperate to get away from him, to break down in private. ‘I’m just the good-time girl—well, excuse me for forgetting.’
Sitting on the sofa, nursing a mug of coffee, still bristling from his words, Lily stared out at the view. The city was filling with morning traffic, tiny dots of people heading to work, to school. Part of her wished she were among them, wished she were down there, wrestling with the crowds, wished almost that she’d never met Hunter because that would mean she’d never have to miss him.
And she would miss him.
Biting on her lips to hold back tears, Lily tried to glimpse her future, tried to imagine a world without Hunter, but it was like driving with the windshield fogging up. Every thought of him that she attempted to wipe away came back thicker and faster, the road ahead almost impossible to envision without this impossible, difficult man in her life.
It was almost a relief when Abigail arrived.
Efficient as ever, Abigail stalked into the vast lounge and gave Lily the vaguest of nods as she turned her pussycat smile on Hunter, who was punching two headache tablets out of a blister pack.
‘Morning, Hunter, you’re looking a bit peaky.’
‘Morning, Abigail, you’re sounding a bit grating.’
At least his poisonous tongue wasn’t solely reserved for her! Hugging her knees, Lily carried on staring out at the view, listening and not reacting as Abigail took him through his appalling schedule for the day—a TV interview in an hour, a board meeting at ten. She wondered how on earth anyone could cram it all on—how anyone could consider it normal.