‘Yes.’
‘That isn’t logical, Hayley.’
‘Yes, well, logic doesn’t have to be the basis for every decision.’
‘Have you given any thought to where you’re going to go?’
‘No. Somewhere…’ She gave a defensive shrug. ‘Somewhere nice. With a big Christmas tree. And very possibly a log fire.’
‘We have a big tree here. And a log fire.’
‘Somewhere with a big tree and a log fire where you don’t live.’
‘Hayley, it’s Christmas Eve,’ he said gently. “‘Somewhere’ generally needs to be booked a good six months in advance.’
‘Then I’ll take a train down to London or something.’
The thought of her sitting on a lonely, empty railway platform sent a chill down his spine. ‘You answered the advert for a housekeeper—’
‘That was before I knew this was your house.’
Feeling like a monster, Patrick sighed. ‘I know I’ve made a bad impression but why don’t we just start again, Hayley?’
‘Again? Which part do you want to live through again?’ Her expression was horrified. ‘The part where I discover you have two children or the part where you assume that the only reason I’ve tracked you down is because I’m pregnant? Believe me, the whole thing was bad enough the first time. I’m not up for a repeat.’
Despite her flippant tone it was obvious that he’d offended her deeply and he was surprised to discover he felt ashamed. ‘Hayley, in my defence, girls don’t travel over six thousand miles to see a man they met just once unless—’
‘Unless what? Unless they’re pregnant and looking for a meal ticket? Was that what you were going to say? Just for the record, if I had been pregnant, I probably wouldn’t even have told you.’
Patrick felt the sudden tension in his spine. ‘You wouldn’t?’
‘I don’t know.’ Her voice rose. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t think I’m against marriage, because I’m not. But I think getting married just because you’re having a baby is decidedly dodgy. Frankly I wish my mum hadn’t married my stepdad. I often think we would have been happier just the two of us. The things is, you never really know, do you?’ The information spilled from her like water from a fountain. ‘I mean, if pregnancy was the reason for marriage, how would you ever know if that person loved you enough? You’d always wonder.’
As someone who had found himself in exactly that position, Patrick stared at her, unable to think of a suitable response.
‘What’s wrong now?’ Her expression was exasperated. ‘Did I say som
ething wrong?’
‘No. I’m just…surprised, again.’ Patrick looked at her curiously, envying her ability to reveal intimate details of her life so unselfconsciously. ‘You don’t have any difficulty talking about private things, do you?’
‘The reason most people don’t talk about private things is because they’re afraid of looking foolish or being judged, but I’m used to looking foolish and being judged.’ She gave a little shrug that told him a great deal about her self-esteem. Or lack of it.
‘Hayley—’
‘You thought I was tracking you down because I needed money, didn’t you?’ She recoiled slightly. ‘Why does everyone think that life has to be about money? Give me my phone.’ Catching him off guard, she reached out and snatched the phone from his back pocket, her face scarlet as she stuffed it in her bag. ‘I’ll call a taxi from the road. A different taxi, obviously, given that Jack now knows everything there is to know about my sex life and even I don’t feel comfortable getting in a cab with a stranger who knows that I once left my knickers in a man’s bedroom. Go back to your children, Patrick, and have a good Christmas.’ Sliding her bag onto her shoulder, she walked towards the door, but Patrick was before her, blocking the door, feeling as though he’d failed a test he hadn’t even known he’d been taking.
She’d come all this way to see him again.
‘Hayley.’ His hand closed around her wrist and he felt the instant charge of electricity that had connected them from the first moment—felt the pulse thrumming under her fingers. ‘Wait. You left your job in the States to track me down?’
People didn’t do that, did they? They didn’t throw away a life they had for a life that they might have.
She stilled, blinked several times and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was thick. Clogged. ‘That’s what I did. It’s called being impulsive. Or stupid. Can I ask you something?’
‘Go on.’
‘What would you have done if I hadn’t left that morning?’