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* * *
Blake was late. He was normally home by this time. Philippa tensed as the phone rang. She went to answer it, her heart flipping over unsteadily when she heard Blake’s voice.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to be held up at work,’ he told her. ‘Don’t wait supper for me. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.’
‘But that’s the second time this week he’s been late,’ Rory protested later over supper, adding with a scowl as he kicked the leg of his chair, ‘It isn’t the same having supper without him.’
No, it wasn’t, Philippa agreed silently. Was Blake genuinely very busy at work, or was he simply avoiding spending time with them… with her?
Since that incident in the car park, an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere had built up between them. Philippa tried her best to behave as naturally as she could, for the children’s and especially Anya’s sake, but it was difficult when every time she looked at Blake she remembered the way she had leaned towards him, looking at him… inviting him…
* * *
‘Philippa, may I have a word, please?’
Philippa tensed as she caught the formal note in Blake’s voice and saw the way he was frowning.
‘Of course,’ she agreed, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could.
Anya and the boys were in bed and Philippa had been just about to go upstairs herself when the
door of the small room that Blake used as his study had opened and Blake himself had come out.
Now, as she followed him back inside, Philippa felt rather like a schoolgirl called in to see her head teacher.
They hadn’t seen much of Blake this last week, he had worked late most evenings and left early in the morning. While the children complained vociferously about his absence she remained silent, even though she missed him every bit as much as they did.
Blake was standing with his back to her, facing the window.
He removed his jacket and his shirt was stretched tightly across his back and shoulders, revealing the tension in his muscles.
‘There isn’t any easy way to say this,’ he told her brusquely. ‘Things aren’t working out the way I’d hoped…’
Philippa stared at him, her heart thudding painfully, shock churning her stomach. What did he mean, things weren’t working out? She could feel the panic starting to flare inside her.
‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with the way you’re dealing with Anya; no one could have done a better job.’
A better job? Helplessly Philippa fought down her feelings. Caring for Anya wasn’t just a job to her. Hadn’t Blake himself been the one to tell her that?
Suddenly he was the cold, impervious man she remembered from all those years ago from her visit to his flat, hard and unyielding in the face of her emotional need. Well, this time she was not going to humiliate herself, to…
‘No, it isn’t Anya,’ she heard him saying roughly. ‘It’s… Ifs… there are other issues… I don’t want to be specific—some things are better left unsaid—but I suspect you already know what I mean.’
Philippa’s mouth had gone dry. She had to clear her throat twice before she could manage a thin, whispered, ‘Yes.’
And she thought she had been so clever… so contained… so good at hiding what she felt. How long had he known? Was that why he had been ‘working late’ so often recently—to avoid her…? Oh, God. She closed her eyes as the twin pains of despair and loss savaged her.
‘For Anya’s sake I don’t want you to leave. She needs the stability you’ve given her more than what I can offer her on my own. I’ve decided that the best thing to do would be for me to move into rooms at the hospital, temporarily at least…’.
‘You can’t do that,’ Philippa protested. ‘This is your home—if anyone leaves it should be me…’
‘It’s Anya’s home as well,’ Blake pointed out quietiy, ‘and she needs you here with her.’
‘She needs you as well,’ Philippa told him.
He turned round. She could see the stress in his eyes and on his face, and guilt was added to all her other burdens.
She had done this… She, with her stupid unwanted betrayal of a love she already knew he didn’t want.
