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Joe wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the sceptical rise of her eyebrows wasn’t it—nor the determined shake of her head as she slipped her hands under her thighs.

‘Don’t, Joe …’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Lie.’

‘Lie?’ She thought he was lying?

‘It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you for two months. Last time I saw you, you couldn’t even contemplate more than two nights with me—this is taking “absence makes the heart grow fonder” too far.’

He was making an incredible mess of this. Had he really thought she’d fall into his arms in a swoon of delight? He needed to make her believe him. This was his last chance.

‘Imogen, I love you. I loved you back then and I love you now. That’s a fact. Love isn’t logical, and you can’t put it in a tick-box. I panicked on that beach on the Algarve because for seven years I’d lived by my self-imposed rules and then you came into my life and changed everything. Broke down all the barriers I’d built to keep my life from complications.’

Imogen swept her fringe to one side as she contemplated his words. ‘I’m not sure I want to feature in your life as an unwanted complication.’

‘You won’t.’ He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to summon up coherence. ‘I … I’ve done a lot of thinking over these past two months. And I’ve realised what I did after my parents died. I closed down.’

‘That’s understandable. It’s part of the grieving process.’

‘It was more than that. They left a mess behind them. Turned out their marriage was on the rocks and the family business was so far up the proverbial creek a hundred paddles wouldn’t have been enough.’

He shrugged.

‘I had no idea. I thought they had an idyllic marriage and the business was thriving. It was all an illusion. Tax evasion, fraud, infidelity, wrongdoing … My father was higher than a kite, funded by clients’ money. Women … clients, colleagues, secretaries … he slept with them all. My mother turned a blind eye for the money, but the money was running out so she was filing for divorce. It was all very … complicated.’

‘Oh, Joe.’

Her face was scrunched up in compassion as she twisted her body to face him, placed her hand on his thigh, her touch so warm, so right.

‘I can’t begin to imagine how confusing, how incredibly emotional it must have been for you. To have all your memories twisted—and you couldn’t even ask them why. No wonder you decided the best way forward was no complications.’

He shifted his body to face her, amazed at how easy, how right it felt to share.

‘All I wanted was to sort it all out, look after the twins and make sure I never let complication into my life again. So that’s what I did. Then I met you and you changed everything; you’ve shown me how to feel again, to care, to love, and I don’t care how complicated it is. I’ll become the man you want me to be, Imogen, if I have to try all my life long. Give me that tick-list and I’ll do my best.’

‘No!’

The word hurt, slammed into him like a cannonball. But then she shifted along the bench, her warmth right next to him.

‘There is no tick-list,’ she said. ‘I’ve shredded it and burnt the scraps.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you made me see what a stupid idea it was. How can someone conform to a tick-list? I tried to do that. For Steve. I tried to make myself fit his list and the result was a nightmare.’ She laid her small hand on his thigh. ‘I can so see why you closed down after your parents died. I didn’t close down, but I built myself a comfort zone and I was too scared to leave it—too scared I’d repeat my parents’ mistakes, too scared I’d be like my father and fail. Meeting you changed that, made me see how exhilarating it is to push the boundaries and go for what you want.’

She smiled at him—a smile that lit up his world.

‘I’ve been accepted at art school.’

Happiness for Imogen and the world opening out to her warmed his chest. ‘That’s amazing news, sweetheart.’

‘It all started from that art class. Mike, the lecturer, made me promise to keep in touch and he really encouraged me. He’s been so supportive and …’

Jealousy and pain tackled him at the same time, twisted his gut with a hurt he knew he had to conceal. ‘So … you and this Mike guy …?’

‘No! Don’t be daft.’

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