To Love Honour and Disobey(24)

But instead he lifted the first file on his desk and opened it. Fee-bringing business first.

An hour later he shut the file-having got nowhere. His mind had drifted further than a piece of cork on an ocean.                       
       
           



       

He'd go get her bags and take them to her now. So what if lunch was  still hours away-she'd need something clean to wear, wouldn't she?

He laughed as he carried the bulky bags straight up to his room and  dumped them on the floor. He walked into his big wardrobe and pushed his  clothes to one side.

'You take this half.' Although judging by the number of bags still in his car she might need the one in the spare room as well.

She was sitting on the bed wearing his robe and he pounced on a bag  spilling shoes to stop himself pouncing on her. She was still too damn  pale.

'My God,' he teased as he tipped the bag up. 'You weren't joking about  your collection.' At least twenty pairs of sky-high heels had piled out  into a mountain.

'They're pretty good, aren't they?'

'Most look unworn.'

'Most are.' She looked sheepish. 'I can't part with them. They're a  reminder of my stupidity. And the fact is I still love them. But I've  been wearing them more and more.'

'I've noticed.' And he liked it.

He handed her some hangers and she took one bag into the wardrobe,  started pulling out her shirts and hanging them up. He set to sorting  the shoes-finding the mates and lining them up. He found another bag of  them, pulled shoes out one by one and set them in place. Definitely  going to need the wardrobe in the other room. He delved deep into the  bottom of the bag and found another smaller bag. He opened it and pulled  more shoes out. But they weren't high heels. They were sneakers.

Baby-sized sneakers.

His heart didn't just stutter. It stopped.

Quietly he reached into the same bag and found another three pairs of  baby shoes. Both genders covered. He laid them on the floor in a row.

'Ana?'

She stepped out from the wardrobe, saw them immediately-stared at them.

He stared at her.

'You kept them.' He finally regained the power of speech.

Her lips twisted. 'I keep everything, Seb. As you can see.'

But this was different. 'You said you don't want children.'

'I don't.'

'So why keep them?'

'I didn't keep them. It's just that I never get rid of anything. I'm a  hoarder.' She didn't look at him as she answered-walked back into the  wardrobe. She might sound casual, but he knew what she was doing-hiding.

Seb felt sick as he stared at the shoes once more. Of course she'd kept  them-deliberately. She'd wanted to keep them-safely tucked away in a  little bag at the heart of her collection. Just as she'd wanted to keep  their baby. She wanted children. And she couldn't-shouldn't-deny it. She  shouldn't deny what was true to her. She shouldn't try to be like him.  That was what she was doing, wasn't it? She'd learned all the wrong  things from him. Like their fling-their deal in Africa-that wasn't in  her character. The dreamyeyed woman he'd met a year ago wasn't the kind  to instigate a quick and meaningless affair. She felt. She was a soft,  loving woman who really was meant for love and family.

Her keeping the shoes revealed that, didn't it? Just as the glow in her  face at his father's wedding had hinted that her romanticism, her  idealism, still lurked beneath her shiny new carefree surface.

She wanted more. And she deserved more.

But he wasn't the man who could deliver it.

He clenched his fists as an ache ripped through his guts. 'What are you going to do with them?'

Ana pulled her face from where she'd buried it in the clothes she'd just  hung in the wardrobe. Inhaled deep to steady her voice. 'I don't know.'

'It's not like you'll be able to rent them out.'

No, of course she couldn't. Anger spurted inside. Why was he pursuing  this? What did he want her to say? She marched out of the wardrobe and  scooped up the shoes, stuffed them back into their little bag. 'I don't  want them.' She tossed the bag into the hall. 'I'll put them in a  charity bin later.'

She needed some kind of superglue to fix the tear in her  heart-fast-because she didn't want the hurt to burst out again. Not now.  Not when things were confusing enough. But it was rising fast-and was  huge again, hitting her in a wave.

Damn. Why did he have to find those shoes? And why was he freaking out about them?

'I have to go back in to work,' he said briskly. 'Lots to catch up on still since I was away. I'll be back tonight.'

Yeah, he was backing off fast.

'Of course. I've got work I need to get on with too.' And she needed to  shower, dress, get a life. Because if she was reading his expression  right, they were pretty much over.                       
       
           



       

'Use my study.' He didn't touch her as he left.

'Thanks.' She swallowed, unable to believe his coolness-that he could shut down so quickly. Especially after this morning.

Wow.

She pressed her hand to her chest, squeezed out the memory of how he'd  held her so tenderly only a couple of hours ago. She couldn't think on  that any more. Then she closed the door on that little bag out in the  hall.

She'd been right yesterday. It was time to end it. But she wasn't going  to run away-not this time. She'd wait and see him, tell him she was  pressing ahead with the divorce.

Closure would be hers.

Chapter Eleven

SEB looked up at the tall figure who'd just cast a long shadow across  his desk and drawled, 'Don't tell me you want a divorce already.'

'Very funny.' His father shut the door behind him.

Surprised, Seb sat back in his chair. 'Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?'

'Only took the weekend.' His dad shrugged. 'Paris.'

'I'm sure it was romantic.' He had no desire to hear any more details.

'Janine's pregnant.'

For a long moment Seb couldn't move. Finally he marshalled his wits  enough to comment. 'Congratulations.' He made an effort to look pleased.  'You've wanted that for a long time.'

'Yeah.' His father's frown dissolved into a smile wider than the Zambezi river.

Seb stood and walked round his desk. Shook his father's hand and then  pulled him into a hug. They hadn't done affection in a while but if ever  there was a time when it was warranted, it was now.

Yet that tight feeling inside his chest clamped even harder. And it burned too.

It wasn't jealousy, was it? But he couldn't stop the thoughts-he'd have a  baby now if Ana's pregnancy hadn't gone awry. How weird would it have  been for his child to have an uncle even younger than him? Well, hell,  and a step-grandma only a few years older than its father too. The  confusion made Seb's brain start to ache. 'Does Mum know?'

His father looked guilty. 'No. Not yet.' He fidgeted.

Seb's whole body began to ache. He knew what was coming.

'I was wondering if you might talk to her.'

His dad didn't want to deal with it, huh? He never had. 'You want me to tell her for you.'

'I don't want to hurt her.'

That was the real reason for this visit. To make Seb the go between-again. 'Neither do I.'

'You're her son.'

'So?'

'You're her whole life.'

Wrong. He wasn't anywhere near enough for her. She'd wanted more than  him. He'd been only a fraction of what she wanted-not enough. Not ever  enough.

His father picked up one of the clippings the secretaries cut for him. A  write-up of one of his most recent high-profile cases. The ugly  break-up of a rock star and his aging model. Both drugged up in the past  and now with two kids and several million pounds caught between them.

'Your mother and I messed you around, didn't we?' His dad half laughed.  'Stupid when you were the most precious thing to both of us. I won't let  that happen this time.'

Seb looked away.

'I fought for you, son. I'd always fight for you.'

But he hadn't been enough-they'd both wanted more than him and he hadn't  been able to hold them together. He'd worked so hard-tried to be the  perfect son, sporty, academic, striving to succeed to please both his  mother and his father. To be everything they wanted in a child. But  they'd both wanted more.

That was why he knew he wasn't the man for Ana. If he hadn't been enough  for his parents, how could he be enough to hold her to him? And even if  he tried, what if they couldn't make the family she wanted? Wouldn't  that tear them apart as it had his parents?

For she did want a family. He'd seen it in her eyes, had felt it as  she'd shuddered with grief-the sadness over her loss. Sure she denied  it. But seeing those shoes she still kept? The yearning was still there  and one day it would bubble up. Could he stand to see her hurting time  and time again if those children didn't come?

No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to be with her and then watch  her slipping from him inch by inch over however long a torturous time.

It was better to end it now. He had to end it now. Despite the agony already ripping inside him.

Families always tore apart. Vows weren't strong enough-they were only words that could be said and then denied or withdrawn.