Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. Tears of hurt and anger. Scared she might start yelling and say things she’d regret, she turned and fled from the room.
* * *
Damn. What a stuff-up.
As Ellie hurried away, Jacko stared up at Joe with big, sad blue eyes. ‘Mummy crying.’
Joe swallowed the boulder that jammed his throat. Why the hell had he started a verbal attack on Ellie? This was so not the way he’d wanted to behave.
How do I tell my two-year-old son that I’m the reason his mother’s crying?
Anxiety and regret warred in Joe’s gut as he crossed the room to the boy and squatted so they were at eye level. ‘Listen, little mate. I’m going to go and talk to your mum. To...ah...cheer her up.’
Joe had to try at least. It took two to fight. Two to make peace. He had to pull in his horns, had to make an effort to see this situation from Ellie’s point of view.
‘I need you to be a good boy and stay here with Ted.’ Joe dredged up a grin as he tickled Jacko’s tummy.
Obligingly, Jacko giggled.
The kid was so cute. Already Joe knew it was going to be hard to say goodbye.
‘How about we hide your bear behind the curtain over there?’ he suggested, pointing to the floor-length curtains hanging either end of the deep sash windows that opened onto the veranda. He showed Jacko how to hide the bear behind them, just as they had with the cushions, and the little boy was thrilled.
‘Ted!’ he squealed, astonished by the big discovery when they lifted the curtain. ‘Do it again, Joe!’ At least he was all smiles again.
‘You have a go at hiding him,’ said Joe.
Jacko tried, frowning carefully as he placed the bear behind the curtain. Once again, he lifted the fabric and saw the bear, and he was as excited as a scientist discovering the Higgs boson particle.
‘OK, you can play with him here,’ Joe said. ‘And I’ll be back in a tick.’
‘OK.’
Reassured that Jacko would be happy for a few minutes at least, Joe went in search of Ellie.
ELLIE STOOD AT one end of the long front veranda, elbows resting on the railings, staring out at the waterlogged paddocks. The rain had actually stopped for now, but the sky was still heavy with thick, grey clouds, so no doubt the downpour would start again soon.
She wasn’t crying. She’d dried her tears almost as soon as she left the lounge room and she was determined that no more would fall. She was angry, not sad. Angry with herself, with her stupid behaviour.
She’d been determined to handle Joe’s return calmly and maturely, and when he’d been forced to stay here she’d promised herself she would face that with dignity as well. Instead she’d been as tense and sharp-tongued as a cornered taipan.
She was so disappointed with herself, so annoyed. Why couldn’t her behaviour ever live up to her good intentions?
You make it so damn obvious that you can’t stand the sight of me.
Did Joe really think that? How could he?
It seemed impossible to Ellie. The sad truth was—the sight of Joe stirred her in ways she didn’t want to be stirred. She found herself thinking too often about the way they used to make love.
Really, despite their troubles, there’d been so many happy times, some of them incredibly spontaneous and exciting.
Even now, irrationally, she found herself remembering one of the happiest nights of her life—a night that had originally started out very badly.
It had happened one Easter. She and Joe were driving down the highway on their way to visit her mum, but they’d been so busy before they left that they hadn’t booked ahead, and all the motels down the highway were full.
‘Perhaps we should just keep driving,’ Joe had said grimly when they reached yet another town with no spare rooms.
‘Driving all night?’ she’d asked. ‘Isn’t that dangerous, Joe? We’re both pretty tired.’
He’d reluctantly agreed. ‘We’ll have to find a picnic ground then and sleep in the car.’
It wasn’t a cheering prospect, but Ellie knew they didn’t have much choice. While Joe went off to find hamburgers for their dinner, she tried to set the car up as best she could, hoping they’d be comfortable.
She’d shifted their luggage and adjusted their seats to lie back and she’d just finished making pillows out of bundles of their clothing when Joe returned. He was empty-handed and Ellie, who’d been ravenous, felt her spirits sink even lower.
‘Don’t tell me this town’s also sold out of hamburgers?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said simply.
Her stomach rumbled hungrily. ‘Are all the shops closed?’
‘Don’t know that either. It doesn’t matter.’ Joe’s sudden cheeky smile was unforgettably gorgeous. He held up a fancy gold ring, dangling keys. ‘I’ve booked us into the honeymoon suite in the best hotel in town.’
Ellie gasped. ‘You’re joking.’
Still smiling broadly, Joe shook his head. ‘Ridgy-didge.’
‘Can...can we afford a honeymoon suite?’
He shrugged, then slipped his arm around her shoulders, pressed a warm kiss to her ear. ‘We deserve a bit of comfort. We never had a proper honeymoon.’
It was the best of nights. Amazing, and so worth the extravagance.
All thoughts of tiredness vanished when they walked into their suite and saw the champagne in an ice bucket, a huge vase of long-stemmed white roses and chocolate hearts wrapped in gold foil on their pillows.
Like excited kids, they bounced on the enormous king-sized bed and then jumped into the spa bath until their room service dinner arrived. And they felt like film stars as they ate gourmet cuisine dressed in luxurious white fluffy bathrobes.
And, just for one night, they’d put their worries aside and they’d made love like honeymooners.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that now...
Ellie was devastated to realise that she was still as physically attracted to her ex as she’d been on that night. The realisation made her panic.
What a mess.
With a despairing sigh, she sagged against a veranda post. How had she and Joe sunk to this? She’d thought about their problems so many times, but she’d never pinpointed a particular event that had killed their marriage. It had been much the same as today. Ongoing bickering and building resentments had worn them down and eroded their love.
Death by a thousand cuts.
But why? How? How could she be so tense and angry with a man she still fancied? It wasn’t as if she actively disliked Joe.
She supposed they should have seen a marriage guidance counsellor years ago.
Joe had been too proud, of course, and Ellie had been too scared—scared that she’d be psychoanalysed and found lacking in some vital way. But if she’d been braver, would it have helped?
She probably would have had to tell the counsellor about her father’s death and how unhappy she’d been after that. Worse, she would have had to talk about her stepfather and how she’d run away from him.
Ellie