Chapters (48)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Tricia Stringer
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Excerpt
- One
“Dad said that to you?” Milt sagged to the bed. “I got a right royal telling-off. I’d never felt so bad in my life, first for the hurt I caused you, then for my father’s disappointment and then the anger…well, I assumed you’d been the one to tell him.”
“You were angry with me?” Natalie struggled to contain her own simmering rage.
Milt shrugged, put his head in his hands. “Hell, Nat, it was so long ago. Why are we doing this to each other again?”
Colours swirled before her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe. She threw back the covers and strode to the window, throwing up the sash and letting the cold night air waft in around her, welcoming the chill of it prickling over her skin. Her marriage had a question mark over it again but this time she doubted her wisdom in staying. What had it been for? She turned back to Milt. He was still slumped on the edge of the bed, his back to her.
“Perhaps it was a mistake to try to bury it,” she said. “You know what they say, lies come back to haunt you.”
He turned to her. “There have been no lies. You know all there was to know.”
“Jack?”
“He’s not mine, Nat.” Milt sighed, crawled back into bed and pulled up the covers. “I’m tired. We’re just going round in circles. Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got another early start tomorrow.”
Natalie studied him as he turned away to switch off his light. Since his affair and the patching up of their marriage they’d rarely rowed openly or raised their voices at each other. Milt was quick to anger but just as quick to cool. He’d growl about something then calm down and they’d talk, but tonight he wouldn’t and she couldn’t. Nor could she stand to lie beside him, not feeling like she did. She had to get away or she’d go mad. She took her dressing-gown from the hook on the back of the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I can’t sleep. I’ll only keep you awake. I’ll go to the spare room in the quarters.”
“Owen’s in there.”
Nat looked back at the dark outline of his frame in the bed. “Milt, you can be so blind.” She spoke in a low voice. The rest of the house was in darkness. “He won’t be in the spare bedroom, I can assure you.”
The dark shape sat up. “You think he’s with Bree?”
She shook her head, pulled the door to behind her and set off down the passage. That Owen and Bree were an item, as they say, and Milt hadn’t noticed was one more piece of proof that he couldn’t see the bleeding obvious.
Fifteen
Fifteen