Just For You (Escape to New Zealand) by James Rosalind

Author:James, Rosalind [James, Rosalind]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-07-31T04:00:00+00:00

She’d done it again, she raged at herself as she walked home across the garden, when she permitted herself the luxury of thinking about it, and wished she hadn’t. Let herself fall, just like the last time, just like she’d done so many times, and how stupid was she, to keep making the same mistake over and over and over again? Falling for a handsome face and a fit body, mistaking heat for warmth, urgency for connection, and paying the price. Always paying the price, because that was what happened when you led with your heart instead of your head.

She went to work the next morning as usual, put what she’d heard, what she knew, what she’d lost into the back of her mind, because her kids needed her. But by the time she walked home at four, the effort it had taken not to fall apart all day had taken its toll, feet felt leaden, and the thought of seeing Hemi, of telling him what she knew, saying what she knew she had to say, made her heart hurt with a pain so strong, she had all she could do not to clutch at her chest with it. And that made her even angrier. At him, and at herself.

She considered getting made up for him, but what was the point? She changed into a sundress, because it was warm, left her hair in its knot, her feet bare. And when he knocked on the door, she opened it, and the anger and sorrow and trepidation over what was coming just about knocked her down.

The broad smile that met her turned cautious as he read her expression. “Something wrong?” he hazarded. “Something happen? Your family?”

“Something’s wrong,” she said, stepping back to let him come inside, wishing that he weren’t so big, that he weren’t so strong, that he didn’t look so good to her, that she didn’t wish she could fling herself into his arms and have none of this be true. She didn’t want to have this conversation, she wanted it to be the way she’d dreamed it would be, and yet she wanted to tell him, to fling the words at him like spears. She wanted to wound him the way he’d wounded her. “But it’s not my family,” she told him. “You thought I wouldn’t know. Do you think because I don’t know, it’s all right? It’s not all right. It’s. Not. All. Right.”

“What’s not?” he asked, standing still, barely inside her doorway and looking nothing but confused. “What’s not all right? What the hell are you talking about?”

“That you’ve been telling me all this, about how you feel about me, being so special, all that, then going off and shagging somebody else. Whoever you can find. Whoever’s there,” she spat, heedless of the tears in her eyes. “Just like before. Just like always. You told me you’ve changed, and you haven’t. How stupid do you think I am? How bloody stupid?”

“Right now,” he said, and his

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