The Secret Art of Forgiveness (26 page)

What she'd had with Brett was so much more than the moment of connection with Jacob. Wasn't it? It had to be. You didn't spend five years with someone and have a deeper connection with someone you'd known five minutes. Surely?

Jacob Taylor was a symptom of the breakdown of her relationship with Brett, not the cause. It had been broken before she'd ever stepped on that plane; she knew it now. Even though Brett was perfect on paper, he wasn't perfect for her, not at the moment. So her only choice was to take time out and see if she had it in her to fix it.

She rallied herself. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Brett. I've only been here a few days. And anyway, I'm not exactly looking for anyone else.'
It's hard enough trying to work out my feelings for one man, never mind two.
But she couldn't help remembering what Jacob had said to her;
Just know that you love him, and can do it for the long haul.
‘What I'm trying to say is, I'm crazy messed-up at the moment. Suddenly, I've got so many things to think about, to
feel
about. And I don't know how to do that. That probably doesn't make sense, right?'

‘Not really, no. Because I know exactly how I feel about you, Emily. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That won't change.'

Her heart twisted in her chest. If ever there was a case of
it's not you, it's me
, this was it. But she didn't want to sound crass. Brett deserved more. ‘I need some time to get my head together. I'm sorry. I don't want to mess you around or lie to you… so, I think we need to take a break. At least, I need to take some time out to think things through.'

There was panic in his eyes. ‘Can't we work it out? We don't need to call things off. Take some time, but wear my ring, babe.'

And she'd forever feel beholden to him, as if he were watching her, assessing her every word, pushing her, pressuring her. ‘No. I'm trying to work it out, Brett, but I need to do it on my own.'

‘You've been acting very strangely since you went to England. Maybe things will work better when you come home.' He hauled in oxygen. And again. ‘Come home, babe. Now. I can fix this.'

‘I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's not because I'm here. I just want to do the right thing by us both. I think I need to be completely on my own for a while to work things through.'
Breathe a little.

There was a moment of quiet as he processed it all. They were taking a break. Breaking up. Calling it all off, after half a decade of being together. He looked as shell-shocked as she felt. ‘Why did you say yes, then?'

‘Because I wanted it to work, I really did, with every part of my heart. I believed it was the right thing to do. I thought I loved you, completely.' In among the relief and panic there was also a bone-deep sadness. A feeling that this elusive, complete connection she was looking for would be forever out of reach for them. Even though this was the right thing to do she felt the weight of it pressing on her throat, in her chest.

He shook his head wearily, as if she'd let him down, which of course she had. He was hiding his hurt under a cloak of disappointment, but she could see a film of dampness in his eyes, the hardening of his jaw. He knew she was ending this and that there was no certainty of them getting back together at the end of her…
time out
. ‘The answer I wanted, Em, was
because I love you
.
Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you
.' He paused. Swiped his hand over his face. ‘You said yes. You made me think…
hope
.' His tone was turning a little darker now. ‘Was it a joke to you, or something?'

‘God, no. Not at all. I'm honoured that you asked me to marry you, that you love me. I just don't want to make a promise I can't keep.'

Trouble was, she didn't know if she could ever promise to give herself wholly to someone, or something. She didn't want to give anything up after she'd spent so much of her life fighting for herself, for what she wanted and for who she was. She was worried that being married, being half of something, would take that away from her.

‘You're so damned closed-off sometimes, Emily. You don't talk to me about what you're thinking – but I know you're thinking something, I can see it in your eyes. Like right now.' His eyes had dried and his mouth tightened into a thin line. He was moving on from thinking he could fix it to being angry. ‘There's a lot going on, but you don't say it. I want to know how you feel. I want you to confide in me. You're my goddamned girlfriend, Emily, we should talk. But some days it's like communicating with a brick wall.'

‘I know. I'm sorry, Brett. I'm so sorry. I just think it's for the best. Then, when I come home, we can sit down and we will talk. I mean, really talk everything through.'

‘You know something, Emily? I'm not sure we've ever done that. Because I'm not sure
you
can do that. I've tried, God knows. I've tried to talk to you about things that matter, but it's like there's a locked door to your heart, or something, and I just don't know how to open it. Good luck being on your own. I hope it's everything you want it to be.'

And then the screen went blank. Again. Suddenly, he didn't want to spend another five minutes with her, let alone a lifetime. He'd gone. She'd taken a chance at being honest and it hurt like hell.

***

An hour later, Emily was staring at the numbers on the spreadsheet as they blurred and refocused. Again. And again. A smudge of wet where her tears had spilled. ‘Stupid bloody numbers. Keep still.'

There was so much going on in her head and all of it was jumbling up. She was closed-off. She was selfish and self-determined. Actually, she was self-absorbed and wanted not to have to deal with all this here. Brett was right about her.

In trying to do the right thing it felt like she'd pressed a self-destruct button to her life and was at risk of losing the only man who'd ever loved her. Even now she didn't know if breaking up was the right thing to do.

If she didn't love him, why did it hurt so badly? If she didn't love him, why was she crying?

Her Skype app fired into life, smashing through her thoughts.

Greg.

Great.
She wiped her cheeks and accepted the call. Because it was better than sitting moping about things she didn't understand, like love. ‘Hey, Greg. How's things?'

‘Truthfully, I'm fire-fighting here, Emily.' He was never one to mince words. ‘When are you coming back?'

‘In a couple of weeks or so. Just fixing a few things here, y'know? My dad's getting worse so we're having to find care… that kind of thing.' She wiped her hands down her jeans and brightened her voice, choosing not to mention anything about the festival. ‘Anyways, things are all under control as far as Baddermans is concerned. Gez tells me –'

‘Gez isn't working out so well.'

‘Oh, that's a shame, I'm sure he's trying his best.'

‘If he doesn't improve I'm going to have to let him go. He's on notice. Two weeks.' Greg leaned back and steepled his fingers. Letting people go was something he was good at. Poor Gez. He'd probably been struggling under the weight of her additional work. But if he left there'd be no one to take over her accounts.

Her heart sank as she imagined her colleague packing his brown cardboard box and cursing her name under his breath. He was a good kid, but burdened with too much responsibility. Her fault. Again. ‘No, don't. Surely, if I take my accounts back…? Keep him on, please? Give him another chance? I'll talk to him. Now. As soon as we're done here.'

‘No can do. He's not up to it. He's slack and sloppy. He was rude to Terry from Kids First and he still hasn't sent over the contract to HCH. He said he had. He lied. And I'm concerned what state our relationships are with your accounts now. I need you here to manage things. I need you back here, Emily.'

‘Please. Please, just give me a couple more weeks. I'll be back before you know it. Give Gez a second chance. I'll coach him via Skype.'

‘I don't know…' He shook his head. He hadn't become the head of New York's most successful ad agency by being a pushover. But he did, surely, have the intelligence to see she was desperate here. That she'd be back the second she could and firing on all cylinders;
more
than all.

‘Brett's been like a stubborn mule since you've been gone.' He tapped the tips of his fingers together. ‘How ‘bout I send him over to give you a boost? At the weekend? You guys must be missing each other. He can talk things through with you. Try to convince you to come back sooner?'

And make a painful situation even more difficult? She could feel the pressure in her chest thicken and squeeze down. She'd told Brett she wasn't sure about marrying him; he was hardly going to ask her to come home. He was more likely to tie her to the Aga and make her stay here for ever. ‘No! No, I'll be fine. Please don't send him over here. I'll sort everything out; trust me.'

‘I want to, Emily. But these accounts are huge and we don't want to screw them up. You'd better start fixing up this mess, or we'll have to have a rethink about the VP positions, too.'

‘No. No, it won't come to that. It's me you're talking to. Remember? You know how hard I work. You know how much I believe in Baddermans. I won't let you down.'

He was shaking his head as if she already had. ‘How much time do you need?'

‘Three weeks. Then I'll be over. You have my absolute word.' Was begging just a little beneath her? Right now, she seriously doubted it.

There was a long pause as he weighed up his options. Finally, he leaned in a little. ‘You have until three weeks tomorrow to smooth everything over and win that Kids First campaign. Okay? Don't let me down. Because if you do, you'll be out, too.'

‘Okay. Absolutely. No problem. I'll sort it. I will, I promise.' God knew how, God knew when. But she had to fix her job.

As well as the roof. The Judge. Her stepsister. And her love life.

* * *

‘Hello! How was your trip out?' Emily's heart certainly didn't feel locked-up as she watched The Judge clamber tentatively down from the van; it felt blown wide-open and bruised, and a little sore.

The threat of losing your job did that. And the break-up of a long-term relationship. It had been a hell of a morning. Now all she wanted was some comfort from the familiar. A hug from those creaky old bones at least. He wouldn't understand what she was going through, but it didn't matter. ‘How did it go? What did you do?'

He was – hurrah! – smiling. There were crumbs on his jacket lapels and his hair was sticking out at angles, but he was in one piece. ‘Hello. Is there any lunch left? I'm starving.'

Her heart pinged. She'd been dreading him coming home even more confused, or grumpy, but he recognised her, or at least, knew he knew her. ‘I don't know where you put all that food, Judge. Honestly. Did you have a good time?'

‘What? When?' There was a little drip on the end of his nose.

She fished out his hanky from his jacket pocket and mopped. Seriously, she hadn't ever imagined in her wildest, strangest moments that she'd be doing this; worrying about his well-being and whether he'd fitted in with his new friends or whether he'd felt left out. Been bullied. Got lost. The list was endless. That she cared so much shocked her. How had she become so inextricably drawn into his life? She couldn't work it out. All she knew was that seeing him safe and happy made her feel better. Especially today when everything else seemed at risk, he was her constant. Wow. She would never have thought that before. Ever. ‘You went to the centre. First day. How was your morning?'

‘A lot of old people dithering around as far as I could see. Not sure what they needed me there for; there wasn't any work for me to do. Now, lunch?' The Judge slipped his arm into Emily's and tugged her towards the steps of The Hall, but they were stopped by Dave calling after them, ‘Goodbye, Judge Evans. Enjoy the rest of your day. Er, Miss? Can I have a word?'

Em couldn't work out the man's tone. Was this going to be like a school report? Her stomach dropped. ‘Go on to the kitchen, Judge. There's some bread in there, make some toast. I'll be along in a minute.' Stealing herself, she turned to Dave. ‘How did it go?'

The man scratched his head. ‘I thought you might want a report; relatives usually do. He wasn't too bad, to be honest. He was a bit hoity-toity for an hour or so, trying to make everyone shut up, saying something about a court and asking for witnesses. I think he was trying to make his old life fit in somehow. It didn't, obviously.' He frowned. ‘And… apparently, there was a little… fracas.'

Her stomach kept on dropping. ‘Oh? Is he okay? What happened?'

‘Basically, he sat in one of our regular's seat and there was a bit of pushing and shoving. Nothing to write home about. But now Judge Evans has his own chair, with his name on.' Dave grinned. ‘He made sure of that.'

‘Was anyone hurt? He didn't look hurt.'

‘No. Jenny and Raf sorted it out. They're the supervisors. Some of the clients can get like that when they're confused. In a new place, new faces, that kind of thing. We're used to it. No one drew blood; it was a good day.'

‘Oh, but poor Judge.' She watched as her stepfather disappeared into the house. Tam would have a field day with this. She decided to keep quiet about this too.

‘Hey, don't worry.' Dave climbed back into the bus and fired the engine, raising his voice to talk over the diesel rumble. ‘He calmed down when the biscuits came out. Didn't do a lot in the quiz, but could sit still for a while, which is more than a few of the others can. Long story short, he didn't seem too fazed by it. I reckon he'll fit in okay. Give it time. Quite a character, your dad.'