The Divorce Club (18 page)

"I was just thinking that you're
strange."

"That's a fantastic compliment. You must've
melted many hearts in your life," I say, dryly.

Jamie shakes his head as he inches nearer.
"No, I meant it in an interesting way. You let me sleep on your
sofa because you're scared to stay in your own home and check on
doors and windows a hundred times when you believe no one's
looking."

"It's called having an obsessive compulsive
disorder. It's quite common among women."

"OCD? That's hard to believe, but I won't
pry." He taps a finger on his glass. "Okay, what about this one?
You open a club to help people divorce their spouses instead of
showing them ways to patch things up."

I know I'm overreacting, and yet my insides
are boiling again. The club's my life. He has no right to question
my business. "What's so strange about it?"

"Most women want to keep their men, not find
ways to kick them out the door as quickly as possible."

"Well, I'm not like most women. I won't let
anyone stomp on me, blow out my inner flame and squash every shred
of confidence I have left." I try to turn away from him when he
grabs my arm.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I can't
figure you out." Our gazes lock. His lips are mere inches away from
mine. My voice catches in my throat, my breath comes in labored
heaps.

"I can't figure you out either."

"Let's try it together then," Jamie whispers.
His mouth moves closer. I hold my breath, waiting for the impact of
his mouth, waiting to taste him for the first time.

"Hey, what's for dinner? I'm freaking
starving." Sam's voice makes me jump, the pointed corner of the
counter cutting into my hip. I put down my glass and spin toward
the oven as though I could make dinner magically appear.

Sam points upward. "Don't even think I'm
eating those strings of garlic. And Mum, you'd better not either,
or Jamie's going to make a run for the hills."

"But Sam, it'll keep the vampires away,"
Jamie says in the worst Count Dracula imitation I've ever
heard.

She giggles. "You're not going to suck my
blood, are you?"

"I can only feed at night," Jamie says. "The
moon's peeking out already. You'd better run and hide."

Sam laughs. How come she never laughs like
this at my jokes?

"Why don't you go unpack while your mum and I
prepare something?" Jamie asks. His voice is so cool and steady
while I'm shaking inside. How can he be so unfazed when we were
just about to kiss? I know I should be mature about this and don't
expect too much. After all, men don't have the same emotional
response when it comes to intimacy, but I still feel
disappointed.

"Which room's mine?" Sam asks. "Can I
pick?"

"I'll show you." Jamie winks at me and
whispers, "I'll be right back."

I busy myself looking through the fridge and
the cupboards while Jamie's gone. He returns a few minutes later. I
sense him standing behind me, hesitating, but I'm not going to make
things easy for him.

"What about pasta?" I step aside so he can
check the contents of a cupboard, but he's staring at me.

"About before, where did we—"

He wants to continue where we left. Do I look
like a circus acrobat, performing at the sound of a whistle?
"Actually, I'm not that keen on pasta. I'll think of something else
after you show me to my room."

I take off through the hall, hoping he's
following. He is, mumbling something that sounds like, "The wall's
up again." But I'm not sure I heard right. He might have also said,
"You're driving me insane." If it's the latter, it certainly
applies to the both of us.

It might seem odd that at thirty-four I've
never been to France even though I live only two hours away, but
after getting married at such a young age, my priorities were
always focused on my family and building something lasting for
ourselves. So, standing here in what Jamie calls a 'small room'
that's much larger than my bedroom, I feel strangely emotional as
though I'm seeing the sun for the first time after years of
darkness, or a rose in bloom after months of decaying leaves.

"My room's larger, but all my stuff's in
there and I figured you wouldn't feel comfortable if I were to
barge in every five minutes to get something." Jamie's standing in
the doorway, an apologetic look on his face.

"It's perfect," I say. "Besides, I wouldn't
want to sleep in your and Chloe's bed anyway. It's way too
personal."

He hesitates for a moment. "I asked the
caretaker to change the sheets before we arrived. If you need
anything, the linen cupboard's in the hall."

"Thanks." I turn away, hoping he might get
the hint and leave, but he's just hovering there as though there's
something else he wants to say. As usual, he doesn't say it. "Meet
you in the kitchen in ten minutes?" I prompt.

"You bet."

"Hey, Jamie," I call after him.

"Yeah?"

"If you start before me, please leave enough
garlic to string a necklace. You know, to ward off the
vampires."

He laughs. "Just in case that doesn't work, I
have a chest full of stakes guaranteed to take care of any nasty
bloodsucker problems we might face."

"You might want to hang those on the wall
next to the garlic, and then we'll be set for battle."

He laughs again. "If you need anything I'm
next door, fine-tuning my crossbow."

My heart leaps in my throat. It could just be
pure affability, but I know he's insinuating something, and I'm not
sure I'm strong enough to say no if he makes a move. I'm not stupid
to mistake the sexual chemistry between us for anything deeper. Mel
was right when she said he isn't ready for more than a fling. Men
are fabulous at manipulating one into thinking they're in love when
it's all about lust and gratification, so pursuing anything beyond
a professional relationship's only going to end in a broken
heart—and I know it won't be his.

I stack the few things I packed inside the
drawers, furious at myself because I let down my guard and allowed
a guy to play havoc with my feelings. But there's safety in
numbers. Ten minutes later, I decide to look for my daughter. She's
neither in the third bedroom, nor in the large living room, but
soft laughter carries over from the kitchen so I head that way.
Jamie and Sam are sitting at the table, peeling vegetables. I'm
probably more surprised at Sam's sudden interest in helping out
than at Jamie's ability to handle a knife for something other than
opening a beer bottle.

"Chicken's already in the oven," Sam
says.

I'm not used to other people cooking for me
so, naturally, I feel a little useless. "Would you like me to help
with the potatoes?"

"That'd be fantastic. Please, take a seat."
Jamie points at the chair next to him, his eyes glinting again. I
hesitate, then move the chair next to Sam's and start peeling.

"Sam told me how challenging math has been
for her lately," Jamie says. "Maybe I can help."

"Thanks, but we'll figure out a solution." I
start to peel faster, already wishing I didn't agree to this trip.
Sam getting along with him is a sign that she's slowly getting used
to the idea of her father not being around all the time any more,
but her bonding with Jamie happens too fast.

He shrugs. "I thought I'd pop over once or
twice a week."

"We wouldn't want to put you out like that."
I shake my head vehemently, hoping he won't insist, but as usual
Jamie doesn't get the message.

He sighs. "All right. I know we haven't known
each other long, but it's time I told you something."

My gaze narrows. "What?"

"I'm going to tell you about my deep, dark
secret."

"I love secrets. What is it?" Sam asks.

He's keeping secrets from me? Like following
me around everywhere I go? My heart hammers in my ears. I shrug
even though I'm having a hard time remaining composed. "So,
spill."

"It's a big one. You might not see me in the
same light again. I hope this doesn't change anything between
us."

My hands start to tremble. I'm all alone with
him in this cottage and worst of all, I didn't think of telling
anyone where I'm going. "Please, just say it," I whisper.

He winks. "Fortunately, for the both of you,
I'm a math legend from the planet Nerd."

Sam bursts out in laughter.

"I won the math championship four years in a
row at school. Still got the trophies, the checkered shirt and the
bow tie to prove it. Anyway, I really think I can help. I know a
few neat tricks to get past some of those difficult formulas."

What's wrong with me? I make a mental note to
see a therapist when we get back before my paranoia turns into a
full-blown anxiety disorder. "Can I talk to you for a moment,
please?" I jump from my seat and head out the door with Jamie
following behind.

"Oh, no. This scene reminds me of my last
time at the club. What did I do now?" He tries to look serious, but
the twitching corners of his lips give him away.

"I don't like the way you and Sam—" My voice
trails off. I'm unsure how to put it.

A frown crosses Jamie's features. "What are
you suggesting?"

I realize my blunder. It sounds a bit like
I'm accusing him of being a pedophile grooming my daughter. But
could it be the reason why he's so friendly and forthcoming? I
shake my head, feeling like a complete idiot, and yet who could
blame me for having that thought at the back of my mind? "No, it's
not what you're thinking. I just don't like the way you bond with
her, that's all. She's lost a father figure in her life. There's no
need to go through that again."

"I wouldn't let her down," Jamie protests.
"We can remain friends no matter what."

"No." I shake my head. "You don't understand.
She has loads of friends. I know my daughter better than you do.
She listens to you, she does all the things she did with her
father. Please don't encourage her."

Our eyes connect. His gaze turns cold; his
lips press into a tight line. "Sure. Don't let anyone get too close
to her or you, for that matter, in case you get hurt."

He walks back to the kitchen and slams the
door. I stare at the empty space. Numbness crawls over me as I
replay his words in my mind. He wasn't talking about Sam alone; I
think he referred to me and him, but I'm not sure because it
wouldn't make sense. A guy like him wouldn't show real interest in
someone like me, unless he's heart-broken and needs a bit of fun to
cheer him up. Mind, he probably thinks I'm an easy catch and would
look up to him, stroking his ego, after it was crushed by beautiful
Chloe. Chloe, the wife—it's astonishing how I keep repressing her
existence.

I follow him in and sit at the table,
resuming my peeling. Sam peers between us, but she keeps quiet, so
I speak first. "You didn't tell me math was getting worse,
Sam."

"You'd just freak," Sam says.

Jamie peers at me with a frown. I glare back.
It's my daughter, so I do things the way I see fit. "As you see, I
didn't freak. We'll get you a tutor. Jamie and I aren't qualified
to help you."

"Speak for yourself," Jamie mutters. I feel
compelled to kick his leg under the table, but I make do with
shooting him a venomous smile.

"I don't want a tutor. Everybody will just
laugh. You're ruining my trip," Sam shouts.

"Your mother wants what's best for you,"
Jamie says. At his words, she seems to calm down, leaving just a
pout in place.

I cross my arms and put on the most severe
expression I can muster. "Good. It's decided then. You're getting a
tutor."

"We'll see about that." If looks could kill,
Sam's would probably have me in an arm lock this instance, gasping
for air as I implore her to let me live through another summer
sale.

Thank God, the timer rings, breaking off the
tension. Jamie and I get up at the same time. He points at my chair
and murmurs, "I'll get it." I peer at him over my shoulder because
I can't stand my daughter's angry manner.

"Sam, want to give the potatoes a nice
refreshing bath and then throw them in the pot?" Jamie asks.

She jumps at his command, grabbing the soap
and turning on the water. "They're filthy. How about a bubble
bath?"

"Don't you dare," he says, smirking. "You're
sneaky. I'm going to have to keep my eye on you."

"All right," said Sam. "The potatoes are done
with their cold shower. Time to throw them in the hot tub."

"What about the vegetables?" I infuse fake
cheeriness into my voice. They both peer at me as though I've just
suggested frying the flowerpot.

Sam rolls her eyes. "We're making roasted
potatoes, Mum. Maybe you should stay out of the kitchen. Jamie and
I know exactly what we're doing."

"Sure. Get me when you're ready." I leave
without waiting for their reply and head for my room. It's bad
enough having my daughter against me all the time, but Jamie
joining in proves too much to bear. I lay down fully dressed when
my phone beeps on the bedside table. I know it's
him
the
moment I see the hidden ID and open the message.

U can't hide, Sarah. U and I have something
special. How can I make u c it?

I should've changed the number, but with the
old one being the official hotline and emergency number it would've
been too much trouble.

How can he know I'm here, hiding in this
room? Including me, there's only three people in this house. My
hands begin to sweat; my heart thumps against my ribcage. He
could've followed us, but we would've noticed. Sam wouldn't send
the messages, so the only person left is Jamie. Once and for all, I
need to find out whether he's playing a wicked game with me, so I
sneak out and take a moment to listen in the hall. Voices carry
over from the kitchen. If his phone's in his room, then he's not
the one sending the messages. This is a chance I can't miss.