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‘My flat,’ she muttered. ‘It’s only a few minutes away.’
He guided her out of the theatre, holding her hand firmly. Still flushed, she could hardly summon a smile for her colleagues as they called goodbye, wished her well and made the odd laughingly crude comment.
‘And there was me thinking you liked an audience,’ Owen said dryly as they got outside. He opened the door to the waiting taxi. She didn’t question, just got in and gave the driver the address. Owen slid in the back seat beside her, reclaimed her hand and passed the time chatting to the taxi driver about the rugby.
But he said nothing as, trembling, she unlocked the door and led the way in. And when she turned in the tiny room and saw him behind her, looking at her with those brilliant eyes, the loneliness and heartache that she’d tried so hard to bury resurfaced in a crashing wave, crushing her. She couldn’t believe that he was here. And what if he still couldn’t give her everything she wanted? She couldn’t settle for less, but she had no choice. She was so bound to him, had such need for him, it terrified her. She blinked as her eyes stung, but still the world went blurry.
‘Ah, Bella.’ Husky, he reached for her, took her into his arms, wrapping them around her—strong and secure. ‘I’m sorry.’
She burrowed her face into his broad chest, gripped his lapels, a bundle of tension and fearful need.
But he said nothing more. For long moments he just cradled her gently, stroking his hand down her rigid back in a long, slow rhythm, until at last she felt her warmth returning, and could relax into him. His arms tightened.
And then she was the one who spoke. ‘Vita and my dad came to the show.’
‘I know.’
‘Opening night.’
‘I know.’
‘They’re coming again, when I’m the lead in Auckland.’
‘I know.’
More tears leaked from her eyes. It had all been him. ‘It means a
lot to me.’
‘I know.’
She took in a deep breath, shuddered with it. ‘Thank you.’ It was muffled, into his shoulder.
His fingers slid up, into her hair. His mouth moved on the top of her head. ‘They loved it. They love you.’
‘I know.’
‘He just wants you to be happy.’
‘Yeah.’
‘He thought that what made them happy would be the same thing to make you happy. But you’re different, Bella. You’re you. And you had to work it out for yourself.’
She nodded. ‘But what I thought would make me happy hasn’t.’
He lifted her chin, frowning at her tear-stained face. ‘You’re not happy?’
She shook her head. ‘Owen, I’m such a mess.’ Another tear spilt. ‘I thought I wanted all this, but I don’t.’
He looked deep into her eyes. ‘What do you want?’
You. She was sure he could read her answer. But she refused to say it; it sounded so pathetic. And he wasn’t all she wanted. She still wanted everything. ‘I’m not going to do the Australian leg of the tour. I’ll do New Zealand, but that’s it. It’s not what I want to do.’
His frown returned, bigger than before. ‘But, Bella—’
‘I miss the kids,’ she interrupted, wanting to explain before she lost the nerve. ‘I miss the direct contact. It’s make-up on, bright lights, but I can hardly see the audience. It’s a big theatre but it seems lonely. They applaud, they leave. By the time I’m scrubbed and changed, there’s no one there. There’s no interaction.’ She lifted her chin, determined to take pride in her decision. ‘I know being a children’s entertainer isn’t exactly the most highly rated job there is, but I’m good with them. I enjoy it. I’m going to go ahead and find my own venue and set up a business like you suggested. It was a good idea.’
He smiled then, a warm, encouraging smile. ‘Bella, that’s wonderful.’
