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He’d spent the last fifteen years trying to win back his father’s pride and love through the family business. It was time to try something new—and marrying Clara had been one of the few decisions Jacob had made outside business that his dad had ever approved of.
Besides, Clara owed him. She’d walked out, left him alone on the day after Christmas with barely a word of explanation. Well, there’d been a letter, but it hadn’t made any sense to him.
All he’d understood was that he’d failed. Failed as a husband, as a partner. Failed at the whole institution of marriage.
And Fosters did not fail. That one universal truth had been drilled into him from birth and even now it rang through his bones, chastising him every time he thought of Clara.
Jacob had failed once in his life—just the once that mattered—before he’d met Clara. And after that he’d vowed that it would never happen again.
This Christmas, fate had given him a chance to keep that vow. To prove to his father that he was still a success.
He just needed to convince Clara to go along with it.
Eight hours trapped in a car with him should do it, he reckoned.
‘So?’ he asked, breaking up the silent discussion going on before him. ‘What do you think? Drive up with me? You can choose the music.’ Which, given what he knew of Clara’s musical taste, was quite the concession indeed.
‘I can’t,’ she said, sounding apologetic even though he knew she wasn’t. ‘I’ve already got a seat booked on the train up with Merry, and we’ll have a few last-minute items to bring up with us...’
‘I’m sure she can manage that alone, can’t you, Merry?’ Jacob turned his best smile onto the petite redhead. Merry, flustered, turned to Clara, her hands outspread.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Can I?’
‘Well, there’s that...um...extra special thing that needs...transporting,’ Clara said, the words coming out halting and strange.
Interesting. Given that he was paying for and had ordered everything that needed to go up to Scotland, what exactly was she trying to hide from him?
Merry knew, it seemed, and caught on instantly. ‘Exactly. I mean, if you’re happy for me to transport...it, then of course I will. I mean, I’m sure we’ll...I’ll...I’m sure it will be fine,’ she finished, obviously unable to say whatever it was she actually wanted to.
Something else for Jacob to uncover during that eight-hour drive.
‘Are you sure? I mean it’s a big...responsibility,’ Clara said, and the concern in her eyes told him that this had nothing to do with his Christmas. Which just made the whole thing even more interesting.
Merry shook her head. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, belying the movement. ‘Honestly. I’ll just meet you up there with...it.’
‘Okay. Well.’ Clara turned to Jacob. ‘I guess, if you insist.’
‘I do,’ Jacob confirmed. ‘You and I have an awful lot to talk about.’
Clara actually winced at that. He almost wasn’t sure he blamed her.
He was going to have a lot of fun on this drive.
‘Are you ready to go now?’ he asked, more to fluster her than anything else.
‘Now?’ Her eyes grew extra wide and she looked to Merry in panic. ‘No! I mean, I have to do a few things first. And pop home. Um, can we leave a little later?’
By which point they wouldn’t arrive any earlier than the train. Since his reasoning for insisting she travel with him was sketchy enough to start with, he really didn’t want to put the journey off any longer than necessary.
‘I’ll pick you up at nine,’ Jacob said. ‘That gives you over an hour and a half to get everything squared away here. I’m sure, for someone with your efficiency and work ethic, that will be plenty of time.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Clara said. But he was pretty sure she was talking through gritted teeth.
He’d take it, anyway.
‘I’ll see you then,’ Jacob said, turning and leaving the office.
* * *
It was a rush but Clara managed to get home, explain to her daughter and childminder that Ivy was going to have a brilliant train adventure with Merry and meet Mummy in Scotland, apologise to Merry again for putting her in this position, explain all of Ivy’s routines and travel quirks, load her friend up with games, colouring books, snacks and other entertainment for the journey, grab her case and get back to Perfect London by nine o’clock.
Which was why she was still reapplying lipstick and trying to do something with her weather-stricken hair when Jacob arrived again, looking every bit as calm and collected as he had been when he’d demanded that she travel with him.
She’d loathed him when he’d insisted. Even though she knew the problem was half hers. If she’d been able to explain about Ivy, he’d have understood and probably relented. But she couldn’t—and even Merry was starting to get suspicious.
At first a one-night stand had seemed like the ideal explanation, when she had realised she was pregnant just weeks after walking out on her husband. The dates were close enough to be believable—even likely, given that Ivy had been born a full two weeks late. But still, it was a little too close for Clara’s comfort.
She’d been telling the ‘ill-advised one-night stand who didn’t want to know when she told him she was pregnant’ story for so long now, sometimes she almost believed it herself. But then Ivy would do something—look at her a certain way, tilt her head the same way Jacob did, or just open those all too familiar blue eyes wide—and she’d know without a doubt that Ivy was Jacob’s daughter.
Of course, barring a miracle, she’d have to be. There hadn’t been anyone else for Clara since she’d left. Or before, for that matter.
‘Are you ready?’ Jacob asked, eyebrows raised.
Clara pushed the lid back onto her lipstick, checked her reflection one last time, then nodded.
‘Ready.’
Part of her wasn’t even sure why she was bothering with make-up, just to sit in a car with Jacob for hours. But another part knew the truth. This was warpaint, a mask, camouflage. All of the above.
She needed something between her and her ex-husband. Something to stop him seeing through her and discovering the truth she’d been hiding all these years.
Truths, really. But one of those she wouldn’t admit even to herself. ‘Let’s go,’ she said, striding past him.
It was just too depressing. Who wanted to admit they were probably still in love with their husband, five years after they’d walked out on him?
CHAPTER SEVEN
OUTSIDE, PARKED ON the street in a miraculously free parking spot, was the car Clara knew instantly had to be Jacob’s. Top of the range, brand-new, flashy and silver—and only two seats. ‘Why would I need more?’ he’d always said when she’d questioned his penchant for two-seater cars. ‘There’s room for me and you, isn’t there?’
Jacob, she knew, would never understand the need for space; a boot to fit the shopping in, or even a pram. The joy of a tiny face beaming at you from the back seat the minute you opened the door. The space for toys and spare clothes, cloths and nappies and board books and, well, life. Everything she’d lived since she left her marriage.
And everything she’d felt was missing while she’d stayed.
Jacob opened the door for her and she slid in, trying to keep her feet together in their tall black boots, even though her skirt came down to touch her knees. It was all about appearances. Decorum and manners could mask even the most unpleasant of situations.
Wasn’t that the British way, after all?
Except Jacob had clearly been living in America too long. The moment he shut the door behind him and started the engine, he dived straight into a conversation she’d been hoping to avoid.
‘So, what little extra is Merry bring
ing to Scotland that you don’t want me to know about?’
‘It’s nothing to do with your perfect Christmas,’ Clara assured him. ‘Nothing for you to worry about at all, actually.’
‘And here was me hoping it might be my Christmas present,’ Jacob said lightly, but the very words made Clara go cold.
