Freya gave him a small smile. ‘Still as disorganised as usual, I see. I wonder if everything else about you is the same as it always was.’ She glanced back at Mia. ‘Does he still have his nipple piercing? I know I got a shock when I first saw it because he hadn’t had that when he was eighteen, but then I realised it was actually kind of sexy.’
Luke glared at Freya. ‘What are you trying to do here?’
‘I’m not trying to do anything, but I do think she has a right to know.’ Freya stared unapologetically back at him.
‘Right to know what?’ Mia’s voice was quiet but steady.
Freya looked at her. ‘That we’re not just Grace’s parents. That we’ve been lovers over the years, too.’
Luke watched in horror as Mia’s face paled.
‘That’s enough.’ Anger burned through him, along with a whole bucket full of frustration and a worm of guilt. Marching to the door, he flung it open. ‘Thanks for the milk. I’ll return it when I’m done.’ Whatever their difficulties, he’d always admired and respected Freya, but right now he didn’t like her one little bit.
When she was gone, he turned back to Mia, and the bottom fell out of his stomach. Anger he could take, surprise, annoyance, he’d deal with it.
But Mia’s expression held none of that. Instead she looked gutted, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her. And he had a feeling it wasn’t disappointment in the situation, but in him.
Mia felt blindsided. We’ve been lovers over the years, too. Should she have known?
‘Talk to me, Mia.’ As if he sensed her fragile emotional state, he put his hands out in a placatory gesture. ‘I know you have questions.’
‘Questions?’ Anger bubbled. ‘You’ve made me look stupid. Made me feel stupid. All the times we talked about Freya, you always implied it had been over since Grace was born. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were still sleeping with her?’
A muscle in his jaw ticked. ‘Slept, past tense. What did you want from me, a detailed list of everyone I’ve ever had sex with?’
She snorted, the shock, the bitter sense of betrayal leaving her feeling cold, hard. ‘I doubt you could produce one. You probably can’t remember most of their names.’
‘Fuck, Mia.’ He exhaled sharply, staring down at the floor for a few seconds before finally lifting his gaze to hers. ‘I thought we were done with this.’ Pain laced through his voice, was clearly etched on his face. ‘You know my history. You know why I kept things casual.’
It didn’t change the fact that she felt like she’d been attacked, that everything she thought she knew had suddenly been turned on its head. ‘Freya wasn’t just a casual hook-up though, was she? She was the woman you loved, the one you wanted to marry.’ Damn it, her voice was cracking. Dragging in some air, she forced herself to focus on the facts. The emotion she’d deal with later. ‘That’s true, isn’t it?’
‘Sixteen years ago.’ His eyes pleaded with her. ‘Come on Mia, that’s a lifetime ago. I’ve changed, she’s changed.’
‘Yet you still fancied her enough to sleep with her.’
‘Twice, four years ago,’ he said tightly.
Okay. That sounded better than Freya’s we’ve been lovers over the years. As long as he was telling the truth. ‘You still should have said something.’
He hung his head, his big shoulders moving as he clearly struggled to control his emotions. When his eyes found hers, she saw his pain. ‘What was I supposed to say? By the way, that long list you have of people I’ve slept with, you need to add Freya for the two occasions we fell into bed when we were at a low ebb and the worse for drink?’
‘No, when I asked about Freya, you were supposed to say you’re not over her.’ The niggles, the doubts that had surfaced every time she’d spoken to Freya burst onto the surface. ‘Because clearly that’s the case.’
‘Christ, you could not be more wrong.’ He stared down at her, his huge body almost vibrating with, what? Frustration, anger? ‘I love you, Mia. How many times do I have to tell you before you start to believe me?’
‘Apparently a few more yet.’ She looked at her watch even though whatever time it said, she knew it was time she left. ‘I’ve got to get back to work.’
‘So when are we going to talk about this?’
‘I’ll let you know.’ Right now she needed to escape from his sad expression, the hurt in his eyes, the barely suppressed frustration.
‘Right, fine.’ He glared stonily back at her. ‘But remember I have your number now, I know where you live. I won’t let you stay away for long.’
Cold washed through her. ‘Is that a threat?’
His face crumpled. ‘Shit, sorry, no, of course not. I’d never…’ He raked a hand through his hair, his expression bleak. ‘I’m not Pete, Mia,’ he added quietly. ‘I’m not any of those bastards who came before. I love you, I won’t let you down.’
‘So why do I feel you just have?’
Back in her flat, Mia found it hard to focus on work. There was too much going on in her head, too many questions, too many swirling emotions. She picked up the phone to talk to Elle, but it went to voicemail. She couldn’t talk to her parents, not until she had her thoughts straight. They liked Luke, and if there was a chance they could get through this, she didn’t want their view of him tainted by her unvarnished thoughts.
But she needed to talk, to get another viewpoint. Someone to tell her she was over-reacting, or that she was entirely justified. Or anything in between.
By 6.30 p.m. she gave up all pretence of work, turned off her computer and walked into the kitchen. Reaching for the kettle, she glanced at the wall dividing her flat and Stan’s. Her neighbour with his no-nonsense attitude yet big, soft heart. The first person she’d spoken to when she arrived in Manchester.
Putting the kettle back down, she tucked her keys into her pocket, walked out of the flat and knocked on his door.
He opened it without looking at her. ‘Eggheads is on in five minutes.’
Mia followed him in and closed the door behind her. ‘I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?’
He paused as he entered the living room. ‘I didn’t ask.’
‘No, but you should have. It’s polite.’
‘Aye, but I don’t have to be polite with you.’
‘Err, why not?’
‘You’re Mia.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed to hear that, how much she’d needed an arm around her, until that moment. ‘Yes,’ she swallowed down the golf-ball-sized lump in her throat. ‘We are.’ Tears that had been building all afternoon started to spill down her cheeks.
‘Hey, lass, what’s wrong?’ Clearly alarmed, he peered over at her.
‘Nothing, probably.’ She drew in a shuddery breath. ‘I hope you’ll help me figure it out.’
‘Come here.’
He held out his arms and Mia collapsed into them. Shorter than her dad and wider, nonetheless he felt like a safe haven.