‘I’m applying for the chef’s position, even if it’s two years down the track, because I’ll still be here in twenty years, working alongside you to make that dream reality.’ He brushed the damp hair back from her brow, struggling not to panic.
‘If it’s still not clear, I’ll put it in a few simple words. Commitment. For ever. Family. I want to see you in a rocking chair nursing our first child at your breast. I want to see you in that same rocking chair when we celebrate our sixtieth wedding anniversary surrounded by grandch—’
‘And if I don’t have those breasts you so admire, what then?’ The words spilled from Olivia’s tongue before she could censor them. Pain at the injustice of it all lanced through her heart. Why her? Why was fate denying her what she wanted most?
His brow creased. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Kids? Marriage?’ Her eyes stung with tears she refused to allow. ‘What’s wrong with what we have now?’
The power of those turbulent dark eyes was a physical force. ‘It’s not enough now. I want more. I found a sister, then I found her best friend and I’ve decided family’s a pretty good deal.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, her heart breaking. ‘I have my life planned out and it doesn’t include family. Jett Davies, Jettsetter Chef extraordinaire, globe-trotter and the brother of my best friend, Brie’s your family and she loves you.’
‘I know who I am,’ he snapped, ‘and I know who you are. You’re the woman I love.’
Love. The word reverberated in the air between them and their incredulous gazes clashed. As if Jett was as surprised—and devastated—as she.
There was a cruel fist squeezing her heart, crushing it to dust. She shook her head. ‘No. That’s not what we agreed on.’
His fingers tightened on her arms and he pulled her up, so her feet dangled off the ground, so all she could see was him. Desperation. Despair. Anguish. ‘So tell me to go away. Tell me you don’t want me in your life.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Yes, Olivia. It is.’ He loosened his hold so suddenly that she stumbled backwards. She saw the tormented twist of his mouth, the desolation in his eyes and knew she’d hurt him the way he’d been hurt so many times in his past.
‘Please, Jett, it was never my intention to hurt you. You have to believe that.’
‘I’ll be out of your way in thirty minutes,’ he said, defeat reducing his voice to not much more than a harsh undertone. ‘Until then, I’d appreciate it if you stay out of mine.’
He turned away. He was doing as he’d said. Walking out of her life. For ever.
‘Wait.’ One more look. Her hand fisted against her breastbone. He stopped but didn’t turn around. ‘I need to tell you something before you leave.’
A bare nod was his only response. She couldn’t see his expression but his posture was so tense she wondered that he didn’t snap in two. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
There must have been something in the way she spoke because he swung back to her. Dark eyes probed hers for a long moment. ‘Are you ill? Is that it?’
A glimmer of a smile touched her lips that he’d got it so right. ‘Not that I know of.’ Yet.
His shoulders relaxed marginally, but his expression remained grim, his jaw rigid. ‘Anything else?’
She shook her head. Except that I love you and maybe you’ll understand why I made this choice one day.
He shook his head and resumed walking.
Olivia kept out of his way. She sat on the balcony, staring dry-eyed but sightless in the direction of the Derwent River until she heard Jett’s rental car leave. Then she got busy. She stripped her bed, changed towels. No reminders.
When Brie’s happy tune jingled on her phone an hour later, she switched it off and buried it at the bottom of her handbag and kept working.
She’d call Brie tomorrow. Explain. Make her understand. Then she’d take out Chasing Dawn and maybe spend the night on the water under the stars, the way she and her mum used to do. As she’d done the night after she’d died.
Her ruthless frenzy didn’t abate until mid-afternoon. Until she found his favourite jumper tucked down the edge of the sofa amongst the cushions. The pain knocked the breath from her lungs and she sank to the floor, remembering how the soft cashmere had felt when he’d held her against his chest only a couple of chilly evenings ago. She buried her nose in its folds and the floodgates opened.
* * *
Jett parked his rental halfway up Olivia’s driveway, cut the engine. From here he could see her car, so he knew she was still inside. And if she had any ideas about leaving she’d have to detour around him. Make that try to detour around him because neither of them were going anywhere until she told him the whole story.