Pulling the door open, I find Jack looking anxious, and he visibly deflates before my eyes as he takes me in.
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” I ask as I hold the door open.
“Are you okay?” There’s no umbrage lacing his tone after my reminder that he has a romantic dinner planned with his wife.
I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling. This is something else I promised myself. I told myself that I wouldn’t cry on him from now on, but I feel too fraught, hopeless, and exhausted to fight it off. I was on cloud nine, being worshipped by Jack on his desk, and then I was in the deepest depths of hell, locked in a cupboard in his office wrestling with my conscience. The conflict is wearing me down already. A lone tear tumbles down my cheek and splashes my arm. “I’m sorry,” I whimper feebly, looking away from him. He looks beaten, as exhausted and hopeless as I do.
“God, Annie.” He comes to me, closing the door behind him, and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. I know it shouldn’t, but his warmth and closeness eases me, makes me feel safe and untouchable. Like any trauma I endure is worth it if I get to have him holding me after. He kisses the top of my hair, breathing into it. “It’s me who should be sorry. I never should have risked putting you in that situation.”
Maybe he’s right, but I didn’t refuse when he dragged me to his office. I didn’t say no or fight him off. Snatching moments with him here and there whenever I can is how it needs to be, and that was a moment. An amazing moment…until his wife turned up. “Where’s Stephanie?” I ask quietly.
“At her parents’.” He pulls away from me and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. At her parents’? What happened to dinner with her husband?
“Sit down,” Jack orders gently, guiding me to a chair. I watch as he fills the kettle and boils it, finding his way around my kitchen with ease. As if he belongs here. With me.
He takes a seat and slides a cup of tea toward me. I smile my thanks, wrapping both palms around the mug.
“Talk to me,” he says gently.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I look away from him, trying to escape his probing, but he reaches across the table and takes my chin, forcing me back. When he gives me high, expectant eyebrows, I lamely shrug.
“Annie, I understand that this is hard for you.”
“Do you?” I ask.
“Of course I do. You’re a gorgeous, young, single woman. You could go out tonight and have your pick of the thousands of men out there.”
“I don’t want any of the thousands of men out there,” I admit quietly, spelling it out loud and clear.
“You want me?”
I look at him carefully, wondering where he’s taking this. Is he asking me to demand he leave his wife right this minute? I can’t do that. Call me stupid, but he has to make that move himself. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate.
Jack nods, relieved, and squeezes my hand. “I just needed to hear you say it again.” He swallows, and I don’t like the deep breath he draws, like he’s psyching himself up to tell me something. “I didn’t want to burden you with every crappy detail of my shit, Annie, but I’m scared to death that you’re going to talk your way into leaving me.”
Every crappy detail? I don’t like the sound of this. Besides, I know enough. “I think the less I know the better,” I protest, desperate to keep my connection with his wife, his life beyond me, as limited as possible.
His face is pleading with me to let him. “I need you to understand, Annie.”
This time I don’t protest, seeing his need plain and clear.
He sighs, slumping back in his chair. “I was doing so well building up my business. Stephanie’s father was one of my first clients, and I met her during the project.” He shrugs. “She was nice enough. Her father was relentless in his attempts to get us together. He was a valuable client with a huge ego. Stephanie and I dated, and it wasn’t long before she started pushing for marriage. My business was the perfect excuse to put that off. I told her I wanted a more solid foundation, to get at break-even point. I was hoping to buy myself some time, because I didn’t know what I wanted. I wasn’t sure she was the right woman for me. Then her father offered up cash for investment and…” He shakes his head. “Well, problem solved. I realize now how spineless I was. I’d be where I am now even without Stephanie’s father’s money. It all ran away with me.” He smiles, but there’s a sad edge to it. It breaks my heart, for no other reason than he’s clearly full of regrets. I can’t help feeling like his savior in a weird, fucked up kind of way.
“So you married her.”
He swallows and looks down into his mug. “I married her. I got caught up in the arrangements, convincing myself I was doing what was right. I knew I’d made a mistake only a few months later. I paid her father back the money he lent me, but it was too late to give his daughter back. Her temper, her controlling nature, her spending habits. My business became my escape. Escape from the suppression, control, and…” He drifts off and takes a deep breath. “And my wife. There’s no happy medium with her. There’s no bearable middle ground. She’s done…”
“She’s done what?” I press, not liking the internal battle he’s clearly having trying to tell me. “Tell me, Jack. She’s done what?”
He looks away, obviously gathering strength from somewhere. He looks beaten. “I didn’t want to give you the dirty details.” He gives me his eyes again, and I see a million problems in them. A million woes. I know I’m going to hate what I hear.
He must read the questions in my eyes, because he continues without my prompt. “I’ve left her before.”
My mouth falls open. “And you went back?”
“Yes, after I’d picked her up from the hospital.”
I frown, not understanding.
“She took a knife to her wrist.”
“Oh my God!” I gasp, recoiling in my chair. “That’s emotional blackmail, Jack!”
“Maybe. I might not love the woman, but I don’t wish her harm.” He slumps back in his chair, taking his palms and scrubbing down his suddenly tired face. “I didn’t want to tell you because I know it’ll play havoc with your conscience. It would just be another reason for you to leave me.”
Play havoc with my conscience? Is he serious? Because there’s not enough playing havoc with it already? My heart sinks. “You’re trapped,” I whisper. We’re trapped. There’s no way out. Stephanie has ahold of him and he can’t leave her because of what she might do to herself. And I wouldn’t want him to. That would make me inhuman, and despite everything I’ve done, all of my wrongs, I’m not a wicked person. I don’t wish her harm, either. I couldn’t live with myself.
Jack looks at me, and I see the torment in his eyes. And the guilt. It’s still there. Guilt for feeling like this. Guilt for not loving his wife. He grabs my hands with force, gritting his teeth. “You make me happy,” he grates. “So fucking happy!” He’s getting worked up, and it’s so upsetting to see how frustrated he is. How hopeless he feels. His wife knows just what to do to keep him. Because it’s worked before.
I hold on to my emotions as best I can. My situation hasn’t changed. It’s the same, but the stakes have been raised. I can’t imagine what Stephanie will do if she finds out about us…which means I have to ensure that she doesn’t.
I feel the tears of despair getting the better of me and use every scrap of strength I have to keep them at bay. I won’t be walking away. Not before, and most definitely not now.
Jack promised me he wouldn’t let me go again if the Fates ever brought me back to him. Well, they did bring me back, and they brought me back for a reason. I can’t control my feelings for him. I can’t stop them. He’s supposed to be mine. I need to free him from his nightmare, not for my own selfish reasons, but because he doesn’t deserve this. He sho
uld have what he wants, and if I am everything that he wants, then I have to help him have me.
“We will be together, Annie,” he vows. “No matter what.”
I get up from my chair and walk around to him, putting myself on his lap and showing him where I’m at. With him. Always with him. And I believe him. We will be together. But at what cost?
Chapter 16
Four months later…
I never thought I’d be the kind of person to settle for next best, and only having a piece of Jack is next best. But it’s a sacrifice I’ve had to make for now. A sacrifice that I’ve learned to cope with until we’re both ready to face the shit storm that’ll break when he leaves her.
In the meantime, we snatch moments here and there, meeting in hotel rooms on the odd afternoon and running together in the morning. The runs mean no touching, which is hard, but mostly I just love to be with him. To talk and laugh and forget reality, even for just half an hour.
It’s a constant challenge to keep our relationship secret at work—the looks that pass between us, the desperation to barge everyone out of our paths and throw ourselves at each other, damn anyone who’s watching. The sneaky touches, the private jokes. I loved my job before. Now, with Jack by my side on the projects we’re working on together, it’s truly amazing. I’ve found I seek his council. I ask him for his opinions and whether ideas I have can work. Knowing it’s Jack who is bringing so many of my ideas to life makes them more than just a project. They’re now all part of our story. We’re building more than just feelings and love.
I won the contract with Brawler’s. Jack made sure of it, singing my praises at every opportunity. I wasn’t about to let him down. The drawings were passed with only a few minor amendments, and he made a point of delivering the news before Brawler’s did. He called me while I was on my way to a meeting, and hearing how excited he was for me made me cry. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I stood at the entrance of Warren Street station. It’s my biggest project to date, and a huge addition to my portfolio. I always seem to be buzzing these days…until I think about her and the dirt tarnishing my happiness.
There’s been no mention of what happens next and when. When Jack and I are together, we tend not to focus on depressing subjects…like his wife. Like how his day has been. I don’t need to ask. I see it on his face for a fleeting second every time I see him, before he breathes in deeply and throws his arms around me. And in that moment, everything is better again. I’m following Jack’s lead, trusting him…
Because I’m so hopelessly in love with him. I can’t make this any harder for him than it already is.
As much as I try not to, I’ve become more and more dependent on Jack, how he makes me feel, the encouragement and support he gives me. The devotion he lavishes me with, too. But he’s not wholly mine. I’ve promised myself never to give him that ultimatum. I won’t make demands and throw my weight around. He deals with that enough already. Besides, my fucked-up inner self never wants him to have the opportunity in our future to throw the words “I left my wife for you!” in my face. Call me stubborn. Call me nonsensical. I don’t care what. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’m protecting whatever shreds of integrity I have left.
I’ve managed to keep the fact that I’ve fallen in love with a married man from my friends. They wouldn’t understand. I’ve seen the reactions of people who have found out about affairs. They tarnish each and every adulterer with the same brush. I accept that many affairs are based on nothing more than sex—something exciting and daring in a life of boredom and discontent. But what about the people who meet that little bit too late and share something special like Jack and I do? Are we supposed to let that person pass on by, turn away from someone who finds your soul and kisses it?
I know in my heart of hearts that Jack is my soul mate. He’s the missing piece of me. Without him now, I’d be lost. It’s as simple as that. Call it wrong. Call it sinful. I can’t turn my back on the man I love. I can’t do it to him, and I can’t do it to myself. That’s my reality. A reality I now accept.
I’ve been busy keeping up with all my projects. Today I’m on Colin’s site overseeing the installation of my spectacular glass roof. Each individual pane of glass has been cut in France and shipped across the Channel. I’m praying they’ve made it here without any damage, and as I stand on the street watching the lorry rumble up the road toward us, I frown. “I thought we specified a HIAB lorry,” I say, looking at one of Jack’s men, Bill, standing next to me. He’s a crabby old sob but, as Jack reminds me daily when I gripe about him, he’s a good worker and he knows what he’s doing.
“The HIAB broke down at Dover.” He makes his way toward the lorry, guiding it down the narrow street.
“Great,” I mutter, following him. “Then we need to leave the panes on the lorry until the crane gets here.”
“No can do, love.”
“Yes can do!” I argue indignantly. “Those glass panes cost a fucking fortune!”
He ignores me and whistles, getting the attention of the driver of a small forklift. “Around the back, mate!”
“You are not moving my roof with that thing!” I gawk at Bill, between panic and anger. “And where’s my fucking crane?” I shout, losing my shit.
“Caught in traffic in Westminster,” Bill says, unperturbed by my hissy fit.
“Bill. I don’t think you’re hearing me.” I calm my tone and try to reason with him. “This roof is special.”
“And I don’t think you’re hearing me, Annie,” he argues back, calmer than me, as the delivery wagon comes to a stop. “This lorry is blocking the road and causing anarchy. The crane could be hours. We need to get those panes off and clear the road.”
I look up at the packaged glass, praying to every transportation god there is that they’re all still in one piece. If the roof has to be re-ordered, it’ll blow the schedule and budget to pieces. “If this goes wrong, the haulage firm will seriously wish they’d never met me.” I’m speaking hypothetically, obviously, since the haulage company hasn’t actually met me.
Bill laughs a big belly laugh. “Have faith.” He pulls on his safety gloves. “Up!” he yells to his forklift driver.
I watch with bated breath as the first pane gets negotiated from the back of the lorry, a dozen men spread around the sheet to control it as it’s shifted to the side of the pavement. “You’re just going to dump them there?” I ask incredulously. “On the side of the road like a pile of trash?” Oh, shitting hell, this isn’t good.
“Where else do you suggest we put them?”
“On the fucking roof!”
“I don’t think the crane is gonna reach from Westminster, love.”
I yell, frustrated, and grab my phone, dialing the plant hire firm. “Annie Ryan,” I announce, stomping over to the first pane as it’s lowered to the ground. “I should’ve had a crane in Clapham two hours ago and it isn’t here.”
“It’s stuck in West—”
“I know it’s stuck in Westminster,” I say lowly, my jaw tense. “But that doesn’t help me, does it?”
“I can’t control traffic in the city, sweetheart.”
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. What time did it leave the depot?” There’s silence, and I scowl down the line. “And don’t fob me off with traffic jams when you failed to dispatch with enough time to make it to the site.” I know how these hire companies operate. “I have a bespoke glass roof blocking the road. I need to get this roof on by the end of the day, and if that doesn’t happen, I’ll be heading your way.” I hang up before he gives me any attitude, wincing as I watch Bill pull back some of the protective packaging that’s keeping my roof safe. “Tell me it’s in one piece,” I beg.
“One down, three to go.” He turns a smile onto me, and I bring my hands together in front of my face and look to the sky.
Then jump when I feel someone at my ear. “Site safety first, Annie. Where’s your hard hat?” Jack’s voice wipes away ninety percent of my stre
ss, even if it’s slightly scolding.
“I’m having a disaster with the roof.” I turn around to face him, scanning the surrounding area for peeking eyes, so I know how friendly I can be. Just when I think the coast is clear, I spot Richard wandering down the street, a definite look of interest on his face. I step back and swallow, returning my eyes to Jack. He’s spotted Richard, too, and has also moved back a step.
“Where’s the crane?” Jack asks, clearing his throat.
“Stuck in Westminster.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Richard chuck something in the skip and make his way back to the building.
Jack sags a little when he’s out of sight. “I’ve fucking missed you this week,” he declares, sounding a little despondent. As always when he seems so worn down, I stop and wonder what he’s contended with to make him sound so disheartened. But only for a second, because I try not to think about his wife and focus on the fact that I can make Jack feel better. It’s been a long, busy week for both of us, except we haven’t been busy with each other, either at work or privately. It’s positively sucked. It’s not really that long, but millions of years, too. That’s a problem I’m beginning to fear now. I want him every day. Every hour. Every minute. “Can you make it to the St. James’s Hotel for four-thirty?” he asks hopefully.
“Yes,” I confirm, as if there would be any other answer. “I’ll climb up on top of this extension and get the roof on myself if I have to.”
He laughs lightly, the low, sexy sound, as always, bringing a huge smile to my face. Jack’s laughs are like melted chocolate—smooth and addictive. I can’t get enough of them. “No need.” He claps his hands loudly and whistles to Bill, pointing down the road.
I look over my shoulder and gasp. “My crane!” I screech, watching it round the corner up ahead. “My crane is here!”
“Let’s get this roof on, baby,” Jack says quietly, striding off toward my crane.