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Greyson reluctantly made his way to the bedroom he had shared with Olivia during the first two months of their marriage. Repulsed by the notion that she had allowed another man to have sex with her, he had made up some bullshit excuse not to sleep with her after she’d announced her pregnancy, and he had unofficially moved in to the guest bedroom. He had recognized her confusion at the time but hadn’t really given a rat’s ass about it. Now, as he entered the bedroom and inhaled the lingering traces of her perfume, he imagined her falling asleep here every night. Alone and wondering why he had abandoned her.
He knew she hated him now. But it couldn’t possibly be as much as he hated himself. This was such a mess, and he could see no way out of it.
Fuck.
Chapter Three
Three weeks later
“I don’t understand why you won’t move in with us,” Stella Lawson, Libby’s mother, said quietly as she gently rocked a contentedly snoozing Clara in her arms. “We have the extra room; your father’s just using it for storage right now. We could have you and Clara settled in no time.”
It was a familiar refrain, one she had heard from her mother, father, Harris, and even her in-laws. It seemed that everyone wanted Libby and Clara to move in with them. Everyone, that was, except Greyson, who had not contacted Libby in any way, shape, or form since that last fraught exchange in the hospital. Nobody dared mention him around Libby. The one time her mother had hesitantly brought up the subject, Libby had very coldly informed her that the topic was not up for discussion.
Harris was the only one who never bothered to drag her into any forced discourse about her marriage. Something in him had changed after the night he had offered to chat with Greyson. He had never reported back on the conversation; clearly it hadn’t gone as he had anticipated, and he had instead helped Tina move some of Libby’s clothes and a lot of spare baby paraphernalia into Tina’s flat. Which in itself was a notable feat, since Tina and Harris could barely tolerate each other under normal circumstances. Having them set aside their differences to help Libby move had been significant.
Libby had moved out without fuss and fanfare, and she hadn’t seen her husband since that awful night three weeks ago.
“I’m sorry, Mum, I wish I could stay with you, but you know I want nothing from the Chapmans.”
“It’s a bit late to say you want nothing from the Chapmans when you married into that family, my girl. And just so we’re clear, it’s not the Chapmans who are offering right now, Olivia. We’re your parents, and while you may think this place is a handout, it’s our home, and we worked damned hard for it,” her father’s stern voice interjected, and Libby shut her eyes, gathering herself to meet the man’s gaze. She hated the disappointment she frequently saw in those brown depths of late. Her father had always been so proud of her, and his disappointment stung like a whip. Libby hated knowing that she had let him down. He had never approved of the marriage, stating that a man like Greyson would make a terrible husband.
Her father had never been fond of Greyson. Harris, yes. But Greyson was cold and unapproachable and, according to her father, had never been good enough for Libby. An opinion that she was sure would have surprised the very high-and-mighty Greyson Chapman, who thought he was God’s gift to the fricking world.
“I don’t think of this place as a handout,” Libby muttered, ashamed that her father thought she felt that way. “I really don’t. But you worked for it. I didn’t. And I don’t want to live here. Not right now. Not right after . . . everything.”
“Roland, leave the child alone. We’ve always encouraged her to make her own decisions; we can’t make this one for her. Are you happy staying with Tina?” her mother asked astutely, and Libby hid a grimace. Truth be told, she wasn’t happy living with Tina.
The woman had been her best friend since they were teens. Tina had spent a great deal of time around the Chapmans and their friends when they were kids but, like Libby, had never really fit into the group. She had been a couple of years younger than most of the others in the group and had always flitted on the fringes of that clique. In the end, the lonely girl had befriended Libby, despite the fact that she was two years Tina’s junior. The age difference hadn’t mattered; both girls had desperately needed the friendship. They had been firm friends ever since.
Because Tina was older, Libby had always valued her opinion on everything from hair and clothes to the seemingly hopeless crush Libby had had on Greyson. Despite Tina’s natural shyness, she had always seemed so glamorous and perfect to Libby. Libby had envied her gorgeous red hair and silky-smooth skin, as well as the breasts and curves she had started to develop very early on in her teens. Libby had remained flat chested and boyishly slender throughout her adolescence, and that situation had only marginally improved in adulthood.
