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‘Was Nathan like it?’
Nathan.My brows snap together. ‘You want to talk about Nathan now?’
‘I’m curious.’
I stare up at him, disbelieving that he can swing from wanting me to wanting to psychoanalyse me so quickly. ‘You mean did he like to swim, then no. Not really. He indulged my love of it, he would happily watch me enjoy it.’ My eyes flick in the direction of his chair and I can almost imagine him there right now, with that smile on his face. ‘But the pool was all me, from conception to what you see now, right down to the pretty little waterfall that looks like it feeds it, only it doesn’t, it’s a clever little mirage.’
I wave a hand in its direction and know full well I’m deflecting. Giving the impression that I’m as rambling as the heavily scented clematis to my left. ‘You like?’
‘Yes.’ His piercing blues don’t leave me. ‘But it wasn’t what I meant.’
No, it wasn’t, was it... I force my eyes back to his. ‘Then what did you mean?’
‘I want to know if he too lived every second like it was his last?’
My heart pangs inside my chest, his words cutting deep. He knows it too. I can see it in the way his eyes soften, the apology there even as he asks it.
‘No.’ My voice is whisper-soft now. ‘Nathan wasn’t like this.Iwasn’t like this. I used to be able to sleep. I used to be able to lie in my bed and enjoy just switching off.’
He nods as he listens to me and instead of finding his continued interest, concern even, aggravating, I find myself opening up. Hell, maybe it’s because my muscles are appeased from the workout. Maybe it’s because I feel ready to return to bed so long as he comes too. Maybe it’s just that I have his undivided attention and I’m actually revelling in it. Or maybe it finally feels good just to talk about it.
‘I wasn’t restless, not like this. And even when I was, a run, a swim, a good book, they were all things I could enjoy. But losing him...’ I shake my head. ‘He was older than me, natural order says I’d outlast him, but not this soon. He was sixty-four. No age. And one minute we were together, enjoying a meal, all was fine, and the next...’
‘What happened?’
I drag in a breath, lower my gaze to his arms and notice the goosebumps prickling over his skin—he’s not invincible then. Or is he so focused on me he hasn’t even noticed? The idea makes me shiver. ‘You’re cold.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not.’
‘Are you always so evasive?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Argumentative then?’
My lips quirk, as do his, and I see the hint of laughter in his eyes. I take another breath and think about his question, let it in and the pain too. We may have had a relationship that...that lacked in some ways. But I loved him. Loved him for a long time and he was my constant. My rock. And what happened was unexpected, frightening even. To be here one minute and the next...
He reaches down and cups my face, his thumb soft as he strokes it across my cheek and my lips tremble. That’s when I realise I’m crying, that the moisture on my skin isn’t all from the pool.
‘You must know what happened,’ I shudder out. ‘The media covered it enough. It was a heart attack. Sudden. Unexpected. We were at dinner with friends. Relaxed. Happy. And then...’
‘I know what the media disclosed, but you and I both know they aren’t always to be believed.’
‘Well, in this case they were right.’
I pull away from his touch, dip beneath the water and throw the sensation off. I’ve cried enough, suffered enough. And I’ve shared plenty. I don’t owe him more. I don’t really owe him what I’ve already disclosed.
And yet you did it anyway...
I emerge, ignoring the curious little voice inside as my eyes clash with his. ‘Can we not do this right now?’
‘I think it might help you to talk about it.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me, but newsflash, I don’t want to talk about it, not now, not tomorrow, not the day after.’
He shakes his head, looks to his feet, his voice small as he says, ‘But what if I tell you that I—’
