‘Yeah, but it’s not like you’re even asking for anything from him. Not that it wouldn’t have been a help at the start.’ Merry still hadn’t quite got over the fact that Clara had walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small bag of personal belongings. But she had wanted to leave that whole part of her life behind, and taking money from Jacob would have tied her to him.
Although, as it turned out, she’d walked away with something much more binding than money. Even if she hadn’t known it then.
That was where the closure came in. It wasn’t just about them—it was about Ivy too. Had she done the right thing, not going back when she’d discovered she was pregnant? At the time, she’d been so sure. Jacob had made it very, very clear that they would not be having a family together. And she’d wanted her baby so desperately, in a way she’d never realised she would until the moment she’d seen the word pregnant appear on the test.
But, every now and then, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she’d told him.
‘I don’t know what goes on in my ex-husband’s brain,’ Clara said. ‘I never did. If I had known, maybe we’d still be married.’
‘And then you wouldn’t be here with me,’ Merry replied. ‘And that would suck. So, let’s just forget all about him.’
‘Good plan,’ Clara agreed, relieved. ‘Besides, I need to talk to you about the decorations for the Colemans’ house...’
* * *
The Christmas lights twinkled along the length of the trendy London street, illuminating coffee shops and gift boutiques with flashes of glittering brightness. Jacob Foster moved slowly through the crowds of shoppers, feeling conspicuous in his lack of shopping bags, lists and most of all haste, even in the cold winter drizzle.
It wasn’t that his errand wasn’t urgent. He just wasn’t all that keen to jump into it. Especially since he had no idea how it was likely to go. He’d been trying to think his way through it for the whole journey there; which approach had the best chance of success, what he could say to get her to say yes. He’d still not come to a final decision.
He still wasn’t completely sure he should be there at all. This might be the worst idea he’d had since he was sixteen. He’d spent five years putting distance between them, moving on and forgetting her. The last thing he needed was to let Clara in again.
But he was doing it anyway. For family. Because, despite everything that had happened between them, Clara was still family—and this job couldn’t be given to anybody but family.
He turned down a small side street lined with offices and within moments he found himself standing outside a neat apple-green office with the words ‘Perfect London’ emblazoned above the door, and knew his thinking time was up.
He paused, his hand on the door ready to push it open, and stared for a moment through the large window. There she was. Clara.
Her dark hair hung down over her face as she leant across a colleague’s desk to point at something on a computer screen. It obscured her eyes but, since that meant she couldn’t see him, Jacob supposed that was for the best.
She looked well, he supposed. The cranberry-coloured wrap dress she wore clung to curves he remembered too well, and his gaze followed the length of her left arm from the shoulder down to where her hand rested on the desk. He looked closer. No ring.
Jacob took a breath, trying to quieten the large part of his brain that was screaming at him that this was a stupid idea and that he should just turn and leave now. It had been five long years; what was five more? Or ten? Or forever? He’d already been stung by failure with Clara before. Why risk that again?
But no. His plan mattered, far more than any history he and Clara shared, no matter how miserable. He’d decided he would make this thing happen, and he would. Jacob Foster kept his word and he didn’t let people down. Especially not his family.
And they were all counting on him. Even if they didn’t actually know about his plan just yet.
But he needed help. Clara’s help, to be specific. So he couldn’t turn and walk away.
He just had to make it clear that this was business, not pleasure. He wasn’t there to win her back, or remind her how good they’d been together. He was there to ask for her professional help, that was all.
He took another deep breath and steeled himself to open the door.
She’d listen, at least, he hoped. Hear him out. She had to.
She was still his wife, after all.
* * *
Clara brushed the hair back from her face and peered at the screen again. ‘I’m still not sure it’s going to be big enough.’
Sitting at the desk beside her, Merry sighed. ‘It’s the biggest I’ve been able to find, so it might just have to do.’
‘Have to do doesn’t sound very Perfect London,’ Clara admonished. ‘If it’s not right—’
‘We keep looking,’ Merry finished for her. ‘I know. But can I keep looking tomorrow? Only I’ve got that thing tonight.’
‘Thing?’ Clara searched her memory for the details. Best friends and business partners were supposed to know this stuff, she was sure. ‘Oh! The thing at the art gallery! Yes! Get out of here now!’
Merry pushed her chair back from the desk, obviously wasting no time. ‘Thanks. Don’t you need to pick Ivy up?’
Clara checked her watch. ‘I’ve got another twenty minutes or so. She’s having dinner round at Francesca’s tonight, so I might as well use the time to finish things up here.’
‘Okay.’ Grabbing her bag and coat, Merry started layering up to face the winter chill outside. ‘But don’t work too late tonight, right?’
‘I told you; I’ve got to leave in twenty minutes. I’ll be out of here in no time.’
‘I meant once you get home, and Ivy’s in bed.’ Merry leant over and gave Clara a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘I mean it. Take a night off for once.’
Clara blushed, just a little. She hadn’t thought her friend knew about all the extra hours she put in during the long, dark evenings. It was just that, once Ivy was asleep, what else was there to do, really, but work? She didn’t have dates or any real desire to go out and meet people, even if her childminder was available to babysit for Ivy. It made more sense to get on top of the work, so that when she did have time with her daughter at weekends she didn’t have to be tied to her computer. That was all.
‘I was just going to finish up the accounts,’ she admitted.
‘Leave it,’ Merry instructed. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow. You can take over finding the biggest Christmas tree in existence!’
‘Somehow, I think I’ve been played,’ Clara said drily. ‘Go on, get gone. You don’t want to be late.’
Merry flashed her a grin and reached for the door but before she could grab the handle it opened, revealing a dark shadow of a man in the doorway. Clara stared at the shape. It was too dark to make out any particulars, certainly not a face or any recognisable features. And yet, somehow, that shadow was very, very familiar...
‘I’m very sorry,’ Merry said politely. ‘We’re just closing up, actually.’
‘I only need to talk to Clara,’ the man in the doorway said, and Clara’s heart dropped like a stone through her body.
‘Jacob.’ The word was barely a whisper but Merry’s head swung round to look at her