She’d lain awake for most of the night, her head full of Finn, that almost kiss, Sean, their wedding, their hopes, the girls, real life. It had all churned around like an ugly soup until she felt nauseated.
She was grateful when light slowly seeped into the room because the darkness seemed to make her thoughts dark too.
At five, she gave up and headed downstairs.
The weather had broken in the night, and a dramatic storm had turned to heavy rain. It had pounded the roof and the windows and bounced off the garden, leaving plants drooping and cowed under the sheer force of it. The weather reflected the change in her situation. Her days of solitary summer sunshine were behind her.
She walked into the kitchen and found Sean already seated at the kitchen table. One look at his face told her that he hadn’t slept either.
Their exchange the night before had been awkward to say the least. She’d broken into a sweat when she’d opened the door and found him there, not because of the heat although that had been overpowering, but at the thought of what would have happened had he arrived half an hour earlier. He would have found her laughing and flirting with Finn in the summerhouse.
She’d ushered Sean inside, appalled that he was clutching that stupid article. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might find it.
“Are you on your own? Where are the girls?”
“They’re at home. I thought this was something we needed to talk about without an audience.” He’d eyed her dress and the stack of plates she hadn’t yet loaded into the dishwasher. “You had company?”
“I had a friend over.” She’d said no more than that but she’d turned scarlet and knew he’d noticed. Funny how when she wanted him to notice things he didn’t, and when she’d rather he missed things he didn’t. “That article isn’t—”
“Isn’t what, Liza?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“If it doesn’t mean anything, why was it in your bag? When you said you were coming to Oakwood I thought you were going to feed the cat. I hadn’t realized you were leaving me. It would have been helpful to know.”
She was consumed by panic. This wasn’t what she wanted, and now the situation felt out of control.
“I didn’t leave you! Not in that sense. I needed space, Sean, that’s all. I needed to think.”
She’d envisioned herself having time to plan what she was going to say, so that her words were thought out and meaningful. And now she felt trapped and defensive. Also tired, and that wasn’t good.
“If you’d needed to think about our marriage, don’t you think I should have been involved? Even an accused person should have a trial.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Sean.”
He’d picked up the remains of the bottle of wine. “Mind if I finish this?”
“Go ahead.” She fetched him a glass and he poured the last of the wine.
He’d always been steady. It had been one of the things that had first attracted her to him, and that had never changed. He’d been steady when the twins had been born prematurely, and steady when her dad had died. At that moment he hadn’t seemed steady at all.
“All the way here I was planning this great speech, but now I’m here and I can’t think of a single damn thing to say.” He looked at her and his eyes were tired. “It’s never been more important to say the right thing, after so many wrong things. I was so busy living life I never paused to examine how I was living it.”
She understood that, because in her own way she’d been doing the same. “You look exhausted.”
“It’s been a long week and the traffic was bad.” He drained his glass. “Friday night.”
“Yes.” Friday night. And she’d been having dinner with Finn. And she knew that this wasn’t the time to talk about everything. She needed to think, and he needed to rest.
“It’s late, and you’ve had a long drive. Why don’t you go to bed while I clear up here, and we can talk properly tomorrow.”
“Seriously? This is possibly the most important conversation of our marriage, and you want to delay it?”
“I want to delay it simply because it is quite possibly the most important conversation of our marriage. Probably not one to have when we’re tired and stressed.”
“You don’t look tired or stressed. You look energized.” His gaze traveled from the skinny straps of her red dress to the heels of her shoes. “You look—incredible. Different.”
“I treated myself to a new dress.”
“It’s not the dress. You look different.”
It was probably guilt. She felt as if it had been painted onto her skin. Not that she’d done anything to be guilty about. Unless thoughts counted. Did they? “I’ve had a week in the sun relaxing. And I forgot to use sunscreen, so my nose is peeling.”
He’d almost smiled. “I imagined you clearing your mother’s house and doing endless jobs. How have you spent your time?”
“I saw Angie. I spent time on the beach. I swam every day. I painted.” And flirted.
“You painted? Good. You don’t do enough of that, and I’m guessing I’m partly to blame.”
She shook her head. “I should have made the time.”
“How? There are so many demands on you it’s a wonder you have time to brush your teeth.” He sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “It’s humid and close.”
“We’re going to have a storm.” In more ways than one.
She fought the urge to have the conversation now and get it over with. She needed time to think about what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to have it while wearing a sexy red dress she’d worn to cook dinner for another man. Even though technically she’d done nothing, it felt wrong.
“Go to bed, Sean.”
In the end he’d agreed and had taken his hastily packed bag to the bedroom they used when they stayed while she’d slept in the room she’d been using all week, surrounded by memories of her childhood.
And now they were facing each other across the kitchen table while rain dripped onto the patio outside.
“You’re awake early.” Sean poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Not much. You?”
“No. Why did you choose to sleep in your old room?”
“I don’t know.” She took a sip of coffee. Her eyes felt gritty. “I was tired when I arrived and picked that room. I think I needed a complete change.”