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‘Let me in.’
‘I don’t know why you’ve come but I don’t want you here.’
‘Please.’
That single word stopped Violet in her tracks. She could feel the rain beating down towards her and she stepped back into the house to avoid being soaked.
‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Maybe there are things that I need to say to you.’
But, tellingly, he hadn’t followed her into the hall. He remained standing on the doorstep, getting drenched. Was he hesitant? Violet thought in some confusion. Surely not! Hesitancy was one of those emotions he didn’t do. Along with love. And yet he was still standing there, getting wet and looking at her.
‘What could you possibly want to say to me, Damien? I just came to see your mother. I didn’t come to try and start back what we had! You’re out of my life and if I was a little...a little...disconcerted, it was because I hadn’t expected to be confronted with your girlfriend! Quick work, Damien!’
‘Ex. Ex-girlfriend. Please let me in, Violet. I’m not going to barge my way into your house and if you tell me that you don’t want to see me again, then I’ll go.’
Tell him to go and she would never see him again. Of course, that would be for the best. They really had nothing to say to one another. Less than nothing. Maybe he had braved the foul weather because he felt badly, because he wanted to explain to her, face to face, how it was that Annalise was back in his life. Perhaps he thought that he might be doing her a favour by playing the good guy and filling her in. And still, painful though that thought was, her mind seized up when she thought of him disappearing back into the driving rain and vanishing out of her life for good, without saying what he had to say.
‘It’s late.’ She stood aside and folded her arms as he dripped his way into her hall and removed the trench coat. His hair was plastered down and he raked his fingers through it, which just scattered the drops of water.
‘Perhaps I could have a towel...’
‘I suppose so,’ Violet muttered a little ungraciously.
She returned a few minutes later to find him in the same spot, standing in the hall. Where was the guy who had never hesitated to make himself at home? Where was the self-assured man who knew the layout of her kitchen, who might be expected to make himself a cup of coffee?
She watched in silence as he roughly dried himself. He made no attempt to remove his jumper, which clung to him, and she bit back the temptation to tell him to take it off because if he didn’t he would catch cold.
‘I’m sorry you had to find Annalise in my house,’ Damien said heavily.
Violet broke eye contact and headed towards the kitchen. He might be comfortable having a conversation neither of them wanted in the middle of her hallway, but she needed to sit down and she needed something to do with her hands. She was aware of him following her. It might be after three in the morning but every sense in her was on red alert.
‘It was unexpected, that’s all.’ She busied herself with the kettle, mugs, spoons, keeping her back to him because she was scared that if he saw her face he would be able to read what was going on in her mind. ‘Like I said...’
‘I know. My mother got you there on false pretences. I spoke to her. She...thought that a little bit of undercover matchmaking wouldn’t go amiss...’
‘And did you tell her about Annalise?’
‘No. There is no Annalise.’
And he didn’t know what had possessed him to open the door to her when she had showed up the previous evening. He had opened the door and he had invited her in. She had heard about Violet. Friend of a friend of a friend had seen them together at a restaurant...there were rumours...gossip, even...she was curious...he could talk to her...after all, they had a history...they were connected...weren’t they...?
At that point, Damien knew that he should have escorted her out. It was quite different bumping into her at a random company affair or even occasionally meeting her in a public place where, like a masochist, he could be reminded of his narrow escape, but letting her into his house had not been a good idea.
And yet hadn’t there been a part of him that had questioned whether Annalise might not be reintroduced into his life? Violet had walked out and he hadn’t known what to do with the chaos of his emotions when she had left. Hadn’t a part of him bitterly wondered whether Annalise, who could never wield the sort of crazy control over him that Violet had, might not just be the better bet? He had had his marriage proposal chucked back in his face. Annalise...well, he could buy her and what you could buy, you could control.
He had let her in and the moment of questioning had gone as quickly as it had arrived. But she was in his house and, foolishly, he had prevaricated about throwing her out. Would it have been asking too much of fate to step aside for a while and not steer Violet towards his doorstep?
‘What do you mean?’ Clasping her cup of coffee between her hands, she stalked out towards the sitting room. She hadn’t offered him anything to drink. It was meant as a pointed reminder that she had only allowed him in under duress, but really, if he thought that he could somehow try and come up smelling of roses, then he was mistaken.
She sat down and when she looked up it was to find him hovering by the door.
‘You might as well sit down, Damien. But I’m tired and I’m not in the mood for a conversation.’
‘I know.’ He removed the jumper, which was heavy and wet, and carefully put it over one of the radiators, then he prowled over to the window, parted the curtains a crack and peered outside into the bleak rainy night. ‘I didn’t invite her,’ he offered at last. ‘She showed up.’
‘It’s none of my business anyway.’
‘Everything I do should be your business,’ Damien muttered, flushing darkly. ‘At least, that’s what I’d like.’ He thought that this must be what it felt like to indulge in a dangerous sport, one where the outcome was a life or death situation. ‘And I would understand if you don’t believe me, Violet.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ Violet’s voice was wary. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was even more compelling in this strangely vulnerable, puzzling mood. It was a side to him she had never seen before and it threw her. He circled the room, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other playing with his hair, before finally standing directly in front of her so that she was forced to look up at him.
‘Would you mind sitting down? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.’
‘I need you to sit next to me,’ Damien told her roughly. ‘There are things I need...to say to you and I need to have you...next to me when I say them...’ He sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to him. ‘Please, Violet.’ He grinned crookedly and looked away. ‘I bet you’ve never heard me say please so many times.’
‘I can’t do this. Just tell me why you’ve come. You didn’t have to. I know we had...something. You probably feel obliged to explain yourself to me. Well, don’t. So we broke up and you’ve returned to the love of your life.’ Violet shrugged. The vacant space on the sofa next to him begged her to fill it but she wasn’t going to give in to that dangerous temptation. He had this effect on her...could make her take her eyes off the ball and she wasn’t going to fall victim to that now.
‘I told you Annalise was my ex and she still is.’
‘And this is the ex you’ve seen on and off over the years?’
‘Sometimes it pays to be reminded of your mistakes.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I can’t talk when you’re sitting on the other side of the room. It’s hard enough...as it is... I don’t usually...’ He raked his fingers through his hair and realised that he was shaking.
Reluctantly, Violet went to perch on the sofa. Just closing this small gap between them made her stomach twist in nervous knots.
‘Once upon a time,’ Damien said heavily, ‘I fancied myself in love with Annalise. I was young. She was beautiful, clever...ticked all the boxes. It was a whirlwind romance, just the sort of thing you read about in books, and I proposed to her.’
‘You don’t need to tell me any of this,’ Violet interjected stiffly and yet she wanted to hear every word of it.
‘I need to and I want to. You’d be surprised if I told you that I’ve never felt the slightest inclination to share any of the details of my relationship with Annalise with anyone.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. You keep everything locked up inside.’
‘I do.’
‘You’re agreeing with me. Why?’
‘Because you’re right. I’ve always kept everything locked up inside. It’s why no one has ever known what Annalise really meant to me.’
And he was about to tell her. Yet the details so far weren’t adding up to the love of his life and she fought to subdue the tendril of hope unfurling inside her that there might be another side of the story. Ever since she had met him, her placid life had become a roller coaster ride, hope alternating with despair before rising again to the surface like a terrible virus over which she had no control. Did she want to get back on that ride? Did she want to nurture that tendril of hope until it began growing into something uncontrollable? She could feel tears of frustration and dismay prick the back of her eyes. She curled her fingers in her lap and was shocked when he reached out and slowly uncurled them so that he could abstractedly play with them.
