‘Can I help you?’ he asked with an arrogant tilt of his head, his long neck reminiscent of one of the swans on the reservoir spoiling for a fight.
Devon gave him a pleasant nod. ‘Ella in?’ Tess barrelled past him with her usual enthusiastic pleased-to-meet-you waggle of her back legs, circling and dancing around Patrick, coating his trousers in mud and black hair. It gave Devon some small satisfaction when Patrick reared back with horror, pushing and patting with equal panicked moves to get Tess away and brush off the dirt.
‘Devon!’ Ella came scurrying to the door, her eyes shining with what looked like tears. She gave him a tense smile. ‘Thanks for looking after Tess.’
Patrick was still backing away from the dog.
Devon focused on her face – she looked haunted and sad. He hadn’t seen that look in her eyes for a few weeks. He immediately stepped forward, wanting to take her into his arms. ‘You OK?’
She gave a tiny nod, her mouth pursing. ‘Patrick’s just leaving.’
‘Call me later.’
‘Yes,’ she smiled at him and his heart stuttered at the steady trust in her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘New beau?’ asked Patrick, shutting the door as if he had every right.
She glared at him, wanting to unpeel his fingers from the latch. It was her door.
‘He’s a very good friend.’ She tilted her head, unable to block the rush at the memory of Devon’s kisses. ‘He’s been very kind.’
‘Kind. You’re naïve. Men like that don’t do kind.’
‘Men like what?’ Her hand dropped to Tess’s silky head.
‘Boorish, Neanderthal. Or is that what you’re into these days?’
‘I’m not into anything.’ She was conscious of the weight of the dog leaning against her leg. ‘Just because he’s not dressed in a Savile Row suit doesn’t mean that he’s not civilised. He’s a vet, so I’m guessing pretty highly qualified. He’s been a good friend.’
‘Really?’ Patrick raised one of his sculpted eyebrows. Did he pluck them? Or wax them like he did his moustache. She wondered what Devon would say about that. He’d probably take a fairly dim view of Patrick’s effete male grooming. Devon always smelt of outdoors, fresh, woodsy. His hair never looked brushed and was too long but he was strong and steady. An oak to Patrick’s reedy willow that bent with the wind of fashion and whatever trend was on the up.
‘Are you sleeping with him?’
‘Patrick, you should go.’ A tinge of heat pinked her skin. Tess licked her hand.
‘But we haven’t talked properly.’ Panic flashed in his eyes. ‘You’re still . . . you obviously need more time to . . . you know . . .get your equilibrium back. I can wait. I know we said six months but I . . . I was desperate to see you. Too soon. I should have been more patient. It was much more of a shock to your system that I realised. Let’s give ourselves some more time. Britta says you’ve started to do some exciting new stuff. Sounds cathartic.’
Ella felt the pain balling up in her chest. ‘You can’t bring yourself to say it, can you?’
‘To say what?’ Puzzlement deepened the frown lines across his forehead. ‘What do you want me to say?’ His mouth pursed. ‘Don’t you think you’re being over-emotional?’
She stiffened and the last tiny hope he might ever understand blinked out.
‘Get out.’
Patrick almost sprang back, wide-eyed with surprise. Tess jumped up and stood squarely between them.
‘Calm down,’ he said, his hands patting the air.
‘Calm?’ she bellowed, relishing the sensation of filled lungs and the release as she shouted, ‘You want me to be CALM?’
Tess growled.
Ella took a step towards him. She probably looked like a mad woman, her eyes bulging, but she didn’t give a toss.
‘You can’t bring yourself to say or acknowledge it, can you?’ she asked, spite lacing her words. ‘We lost a baby.’
