“It’s just—” She paused. “Notthe same—”
“What’s not the same?” His chair made an angry grating sound on the floorboards as he stood up. “I might be a fool, but you gave me the impression last night, thestrongimpression, that you still loved me.” Heat and cold both flushed through him.
Millie nodded.
“Then, what?” He was hot, too hot.
“It’s about respect, and about… trust.” Tears hung on her eyelashes; she did nothing towipe them.
“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” He was now cold all over. Freezing,in fact.
“Did you trust me?” She held her hand up to stop him interrupting. “I know you think you trust me now, but would you even be here if Joanie hadn’t told you the truth?”
He tried again “There werereasons.”
She nodded. “You mean your dad? Your mum, your painful past? Yes, I know about your dark demons.” A smallsad smile.
Silence stretched as he stood, staring at her.
“Then you know my demons are not about us, you and me. I fight them alone.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “And how long before they win again? How long, George?” She blinked away tears. “How long before you suspect me of something else, before you look at me with hate again? Before you threaten to break down another door?” She swallowed and breathed before saying. “No matter what we feel for each other,” – Her eyes were very sad – “we can’t build a life over a minefield. We both deserve better.”
Images of his savage outburst last summercame back.
“George, I can’t live through another heartbreak and watch you walk out on me for eight months without a word.”
He sat down slowly. Understanding flooded through him on a wave of shame and guilt. Air rushed in and out of his chest, but he couldn’t breathe properly. She hadn’t shouted, she hadn’t accused. But in her sweet calm way, she’d showed him a picture of something he hated – a picture of himself out of control. Every cell in his body pushed him to getout, run.
Running wouldn’t help because the truth would follow him.
He looked up at her, feeling bleak. “Tell me what I have to do. How to make it better.”
“Only you know that.”
“I don’t.” He scoffed bitterly. “I think we have established that I don’t knowanything.”
“Then you have to search for theanswers.”
“Where?”
She shook her head gently. “They have to be youranswers.”
This wasn’t making sense. He understood the words, just not thesentences.
“It’s your journey, not mine or anyone else’s.”
There was a teaspoon on the table; he gripped it hard. “Just tell me, in plain English. What will it take to win you back? Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen.”
“Listen to me, George.” She crossed her arms. “Life is not something you can plan like a business deal. You have to trust yourself, even if you can’t see the answers clearly now, you have follow your ownjourney.”
He fought against it. “What if this journey takes me away from you?” He swallowed. “Away from us. Have you considered that?”
A pain flashed across her face so fast, he wasn’t sure he saw it. Then she blew out a breath slowly through her mouth. “All I know is that you have to travel your own journey, freely.”
She didn’t say any more. Just sat there and waited.
Slowly, his frustration gave way to understanding. “No, Millie. No.” There had to be solid answers, things he could measure and control, things he could predict. He stood up and went to her and pulled her into his arms, hard. “I can’t just walk out intoa vacuum.”
