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‘Who knows?’ he said with a shrug. ‘He’s walked out of the spotlight, and he’s back to being his publicity-phobic self.’
‘So he doesn’t smile for the cameras like you, then?’ she said, thinking sourly of all the online photos she’d seen of Rio with beautiful model types draped over him.
Rio didn’t react to the jibe. ‘It sounds as if his and Marisa’s parting was particularly bitter and acrimonious. People say things in the heat of the moment that are hard to take back or forgive.’
Was he trying to say that he was sorry for the things he had said to her?
‘You don’t think your brother will forgive you, do you?’
A look of pain and self-recrimination moved across his face. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Maybe the question youshouldbe asking yourself is would you forgive him if the roles were reversed?’
She caught an arrested look on his face before he turned and walked through the open doors onto the patio. She watched him standing there dragging his hand through his already tousled hair for a moment before joining him.
The smell of lavender and lemon thyme was strong in the warm air.
‘He’s my twin. I’m not suggesting we have some magical connection but in the past we have always been each other’s support network, no matter the distance between us. I resented him walking away and leaving me with the business, and we should have had a bust-up about that then rather than let it fester. Who knows? It might have cleared the air between us... But then I was already feeling guilty...’
‘So that’s a yes. You would forgive him if the roles were reversed.’
He looked at her then with an almost smile. ‘But I’d have hit him harder first.’
‘So if you’d forgive him why wouldn’t he forgive you—in time?’
He barked out a harsh laugh. ‘You like happy-ever-after endings.’
She pushed away the knowledge that she was not likely to have her happy ever after because you couldn’t force someone to love you. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she said lightly. From this side of him his profile was unblemished and, of course, perfect. You couldn’t see the damage to his face, but her stomach muscles fluttered because she knew it was there.
‘Is it still hurting?’
‘I took the aspirin.’
Squinting, she looked up at him, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from a blazing sun that had climbed high in the sky. ‘And the brandy.’ There was a teasing note in her voice.
His eyes drifted over her fair skin, where she knew that a scattering of freckles had appeared across the bridge of her nose. His hand lifted briefly before it dropped back to his side, and she wondered if he’d had a sudden impulse to reach out and touch her skin.
‘Come and sit in the shade.’ Concern lent his tone roughness. ‘The entire place is wired for sound so we’ll hear Ellie if she wakes.’
‘Oh, she’ll sleep for a while yet,’ Gwen said, following him across to an area that was shaded by a canopy. She hesitated to take the seat beside him on the sofa, but felt it would look too obvious if she sat half a mile away from him.
Nothing essentially had changed; she’d just faced up to a fact that she had been hiding from. He wasn’t going to return her love.
‘Your brother mentioned a party.’
‘Ah,theparty. My mother holds one here every year. A celebration of her divorce and a thank you to all the friends who stood by her through the years despite the best efforts of my father to alienate her from them. Yes, this is a family where we actually celebrate divorce.’ He drained the last finger of brandy and looked at her over his glass, as if trying to judge her reaction.
‘If my mum ever decided to divorce my father I’d celebrate.’
The admission made him laugh. ‘So you don’t believe in the marriage myth either.’
‘I didn’t say that.’ She hesitated—did he want to hear this? What the hell? She wanted to say it, so she would. ‘I know the statistics, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be a goal... I don’t know what makes aperfectmarriage or even if such a thing exists, but I do know what is essential before a marriage can work.’
‘And that would be?’
She responded without hesitation. ‘There has to be ongoing open communication. You have to be able to talk to the person you spend the rest of your life with. I don’t mean you can’t be different—you shouldn’t ever lose your individuality—but I suppose you should at least share common values. And there has to be honesty and trust.’ She firmly believed that trust once lost was almost impossible to regain.
‘You have obviously put some thought into the subject. So love is optional for you?’
