we have, it’s hurting people. It’s hurting me,’ she blurted out.
He said nothing, just moved towards her, his form blocking out the sun.
‘No one knows anything yet and if we stop this now there’s nothing to know,’ she continued.
Her heart had stepped up a gear and was pounding in her chest and up into her ears. He wasn’t listening. Just coming closer. And the nearer he got the more she shook.
He stopped only when he got alongside her, leaning on the balcony rail next to her, his eyes not leaving hers.
Involuntarily a noise escaped her lips and it rocked her. It was something between a sigh and a yelp, frightened yet excited, longing.
‘I do not deserve you, Emma. But I cannot let go,’ he whispered.
She gazed at him, taking in every inch of his face, the grass-green eyes, the olive complexion, the hint of stubble on his face, his full, lush lips. She couldn’t fight this feeling. It was forcing her to act. This deep-rooted need she had, this connection she couldn’t deny was overtaking all sense about rights and wrongs.
She only moved a centimetre but they both knew what it meant. Restraint had been overridden; passion and desperation were taking over. She drew his face to hers and their mouths met. Hungry, wet – fusing together as if time needed to be made up.
‘I cannot let you go. I will not,’ Guy said, kissing her lips, holding her tight.
‘I know… I know,’ she responded, tears spilling from her eyes.
‘I want to hold you so much. To never let go,’ he whispered. His hands traced the line of her shoulders as the kisses continued.
‘I’ll come to France,’ she said. She kissed his cheek, took his hands in hers.
‘What?’
‘I’ll come with you to France next weekend. I’ll tell Chris and I’ll come,’ she stated again.
He looked at her, an expression she couldn’t quite read on his face. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Maybe he’d decided they shouldn’t.
‘Formidable!’ he exclaimed. He picked her up and spun her around in his arms. She laughed out loud, a surge of euphoria spiralling through her as he put her back down on the ground and pressed his lips to hers again.
‘A new start,’ he said.
‘A new start,’ she echoed.
The door of the balcony closed shut.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
August 2005
‘Where’s the baby?’
‘With his mother. Where’s your lapdog?’
‘Where’s your books?’
‘Where’s your dad?’
‘With my mum. At least I have one of those.’
Tasha’s last remark cut deep and before she could control the rage, Emma lashed out. She hit Tasha around the head with the supermarket carrier bag she was holding. It contained a carton of wine and some brie and Tasha fell to the floor in a heap.
‘What happen? What did you do?’ Guy asked, suddenly appearing at her side.
‘That bitch made a nasty comment about my mum,’ Emma stated.
Tasha was crying. Loud, babyish crying that sounded ridiculous. She was glad she had hurt her. She wished she’d bought a bottle of wine rather than a carton.
‘Emma… is she blessé?’ Guy asked, bending down to look at the girl.
‘If blessé means blessed then no she definitely isn’t!’ She was shaking and she folded her arms in disgust as Guy inspected the crying Tasha as if she were something worthwhile. He took hold of her arm, almost gently, and helped her to her feet.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked Tasha.
‘I can’t believe you’re fawning over her! She’s a complete cow!’ Emma blasted.
‘She hit me with the bag,’ Tasha answered. She looked only at Guy and sniffed, blinking damp eyelashes.
‘I’ll hit you with it again if you don’t stop faking it. If I really wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have stopped!’ Emma hissed.
‘I think you should… dire pardon,’ Guy said.
‘What?! You want me to apologise?! No way! She made a comment about my mum. My dead mum!’ Emma shouted.
Why was he being so nice to Tasha? He said he didn’t like her and Melody and now he was acting as if Tasha was important… more important than her. He was taking Tasha’s side when he should be defending her.
‘Emma…’
‘No. I’m not apologising. Frankly, she deserved more than I gave her. Here! You can take the wine and cheese. You enjoy them… on your own!’
She launched the bag at Guy and marched in the opposite direction. She had gone four or five steps before the tears started to fall. How could Tasha have been so cruel? Bitchy banter was one thing but making a remark about her mother was below the belt.