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Connor stood up and walked to his desk. ‘Now we’ve had our Kodak moment—and established the fact that you know how to cry like a girl,’ he said lightly, ‘we need to talk about Juno.’ He propped his butt on the desk and crossed his legs at the ankles. ‘So you love her, do you? Are you sure about that?’
The anger and temper kicked back in at the careful question. But it wasn’t directed at Connor any more.
‘I know it took me far too long to figure it out. But yeah.’ He nodded, more sure of himself than he’d been in years. ‘Yeah, I do. And I want to put things right. But it’s kind of tough when I don’t have a clue whether she loves me back or hates my guts. She didn’t want to tell me about the baby, and that’s not making me feel too hopeful.’
‘Don’t look at me.’ Connor shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you whether she loves you or not. Daisy had to hit me over the head with how she felt before I got the picture.’ He paused. ‘But there are a couple of things I know that you don’t. According to Daisy she’s been miserable since she got back from LA, so she’s certainly not indifferent to you.’
Mac was fairly sure that wasn’t a glowing endorsement, but right now he’d take it. ‘What’s the other thing?’
‘What do you know about a guy called Tony?’
The deep-seated anger that had smouldered ever since he’d first heard the name leapt into flame. ‘That the guy raped her when she was only sixteen. And that I’d like to hunt him down and strangle him with my bare hands.’
‘You and me both,’ Connor said grimly. ‘Daisy told me the story, but there’s a fair bit more to it than that. Which may explain why she didn’t tell you of the baby. Juno’s smart and capable, but she’s also much more fragile than she appears. I guess you know you’re the first guy she’s been with since him?’
Mac could feel himself flushing as he nodded.
‘Don’t underestimate how big a point that is in your favour. She trusted you, Mac, and that counts for a lot after what she’s been through.’ Connor reached round and grabbed a pen and a notepad from the desk. He drew a few quick lines, made a couple of notes, then tore off the page and handed it to Mac. ‘She’s over at the store at the moment. Here’s a map. It’s not hard to find from here.’
Mac took the page, stared at the roughly drawn street plan. He wanted to see her again, desperately, but he was starting to realise healing the twenty-year rift between him and Connor had been the easy part. He stood and folded the note into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘Thanks.’
‘Get her to tell you the rest of it, Mac. But hold on to your temper, for God’s sake. And be honest with her about how you feel.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It’ll be good practice for dealing with my new niece or nephew when they arrive.’
Mac nodded and strode to the door, the thought of the baby and Juno and the enormous mess he had to sort out if he was going to set things right making his head hurt again—and his heart pound.
‘Mac, one more thing,’ Connor called after him.
He glanced round with his hand on the doorknob.
‘Put in a good word for me when you’re finished. Juno’s going to murder me when she finds out it was me who blew the whistle on her.’
‘Forget it, big brother,’ he said, trying to find some small scrap of humour to ease the tension. ‘After that crack about me crying like a girl, I’ll be setting her on you myself.’
Chapter Twenty-One
JUNO took a sip of the fennel tea that helped to steady her stomach and typed the next line of numbers into the calculator.
Who would have thought she’d ever enjoy doing a VAT return? She pressed her hand to her stomach and took a deep breath of the pleasantly musty air. She hadn’t puked once this morning, and, while doing the bookkeeping in the haphazard mess of Daisy’s workshop probably wasn’t ideal, being back at work had been a major boost. As Daisy had refused point-blank to let her go front of house on a Saturday, which was always their busiest day, she’d settled for number crunching in the back room and was finding the monotonous, methodical work surprisingly soothing.
Life was finally starting to look up. She’d had the baby’s heartbeat checked this morning at Maya’s surgery and had been able to count off another day towards her three-month mark and the point when she could start making plans for her and the baby. And the sun was shining through the tiny window, making the dust motes glitter.
All she had to do now was focus on achievable goals and let everything else take care of itself. Maybe she’d never been destined to have a happy-ever-after with the man of her dreams, but if she was very lucky she might have something every bit as good in eight months’ time.
She heard the door open. ‘Just a minute, Daze,’ she said as she typed the last of the August suppliers’ receipts into the calculator.
‘You should have told me about the baby.’
Her head shot up at the deep, husky voice—and all the breath sucked right out of her lungs.
‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered. Surely she had to be hallucinating.
He stood by the door, his tall, broad-shouldered frame in worn jeans and a Cal Arts T-shirt making the cramped room look even smaller.
‘I came to talk,’ he said calmly, his eyes raking over her face, the intense blue making her breath catch. ‘Among other things.’
He stepped towards her, but she shot out of her chair and moved back. ‘Go away. I have nothing to talk to you about.’ She couldn’t go through this, not again. The yearning, the longing and the knowing it had never been real.
‘That’s nonsense and you know it.’ He skirted the table and she retreated another step, backing into a rack of dresses pushed against the wall.
