They’d been married quietly on a private island off Australia’s Whitsunday Coast. There’d been no press, no family and their honeymoon had been idyllic. Apart from the niggling fear that she’d made a catastrophic mistake, gambling that her love would be enough for all of them.
Back in Sydney life had settled into a routine. Conall was as attentive as ever, a colleague at work and a caring lover in private. Except there was an added dimension to him, a reserve that hadn’t been there before. A distance when he didn’t realise she was watching. As if he were caught up in unpleasant or difficult thoughts.
Then came his trip to the USA. Usually she’d have gone too but he’d insisted she stay and rest. She’d been feeling exhausted and hadn’t argued, determined to be sensible about her health and her baby’s. Yet on the morning he was due to leave Greer had felt out of sorts. She’d woken to discomfort in her lower back and wondered if she’d overdone her online yoga session.
Worse though had been the inexplicable sense of dread when she thought of Conall’s imminent departure. As if she couldn’t cope without him! It was so unlike her, but she’d actually asked him to defer the flight. She hadn’t mentioned her physical discomfort, thinking it was nothing, only asked him to stay in Sydney.
Conall had held her hands and reminded her that the sooner he finished his business, the sooner he’d be back. He’d promised to streamline the meetings and return early. Greer had wanted to beg him to stay but knew how hard they’d both worked for that deal and how important it was to him.
His flight was only a little way across the Pacific when her back ache morphed into stomach cramps. Despite seeking help as soon as possible, when she left hospital later that day she was no longer pregnant. There’d been nothing anyone could do to save her baby.
Her breath hissed as she recalled the smells of blood, disinfectant and fear.
‘Greer? Say something. Talk to me. Please.’
A familiar weight settled at the top of her back, Conall’s palm. She wanted to tell him not to touch her, though the feel of his hand, gently circling, felt…welcome. It even seemed to take her headache down a notch or two.
She sat straighter, fixing her stare on the dark blue blur that was the shoreline on the far side of the harbour. ‘I’m remembering that day. The day I lost my baby.’
His hand stilled. Did she feel it quiver? Before she could pursue the thought his hand resumed that hypnotic rhythm.
‘I’m so sorry, Greer. Our child was a gift and—’
‘Please. Don’t.’ She couldn’t bear for him to pretend to feel more than he had. Sheknewhe hadn’t regarded her pregnancy as a gift. ‘Not now. I don’t want to talk about the baby.’
She wouldn’t blame him for not loving their child but…
Don’t you? Isn’t that why you ran away from him? Why you moved out of his penthouse while he was still out of the country?
Conall was silent for so long she felt almost guilty at how she’d cut him off. Until she remembered how it had been between them. That he’d felt forced into fatherhood by her determination to keep the baby. When she’d needed him most he’d gone, so she was alone when she lost the baby.
It was one thing for him to regret her miscarriage. He wasn’t unfeeling and he clearly realised how devastated she’d been. But the idea of sharing her grief with him when he hadn’t really cared about the baby felt wrong. As if it would be a betrayal of that precious life she’d once carried.
That was why she’d left the city after the miscarriage. She’d sent him a message straightaway, telling him what had happened and that she was okay. She’d assured him he needn’t cut short his trip because she needed time alone and was going away for a while.
Then she’d switched her phone off, returning to the penthouse long enough to pack a bag and leave, placing the rings he’d given her and her key to his apartment on the hall table. Because surely it was over. He’d married her because he’d felt he had to, for her baby’s sake, and now there was no baby. Presumably there’d be no marriage.
Pain tore at her throat and she strove to suppress more tears.
Conall’s hand moved again, slower than before, smoothing up and down her spine. The movement loosened knotted muscles and she felt a ripple of something like gratitude.
‘Where did you go, Greer? I searched and searched but—’
‘To the Blue Mountains. A little cottage.’ She’d taken several weeks’ leave, effective immediately, trying to sort herself out.
‘I worried about you.’
Something in his voice penetrated her misery. She turned to see him staring straight back at her, his eyes dull as if reflecting the searing pain she felt.
Her breath hitched. In the days following her miscarriage she’d half-blamed him. As if he’d have been able to prevent the miscarriage! And for not loving their child, or her, the way she wanted.
It was crazy thinking but at the time, overwhelmed by hurt, she’d felt so guilty and desperate enough to blame someone else. No wonder she’d craved solitude. It had been easier to retreat into herself, telling herself she couldn’t rely on him.
Her mother had taught her self-sufficiency and since her mum’s death, Greer had learned not to rely on anyone but herself. That was a large part of the reason she’d hunkered down alone after the miscarriage. She didn’t lean on others.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I should have contacted you. I wasn’t thinking clearly.’ Even now, that time in the quaint cottage was a blur.
‘I can barely imagine. I was just relieved when you reappeared.’ His voice was as strong and sure as ever but with an unfamiliar quality that made her heart clutch and her shoulders brace.
