chapter Twenty-One
Honey could hear her father talking to Dex along the corridor. She knew Dex would try to talk to her and convince her to come out. Couldn’t they see she wanted some time alone? She needed to think, to work through the tangled wool of her brain and get things clear.
Pushing herself to her feet, she stood on the toilet seat and opened the bathroom window. Luckily she was wearing trousers. She pulled herself up and over the ledge, held onto the palm tree outside the window and managed to manoeuvre herself down onto the grass. It would take them a while to figure out she wasn’t in there.
She ran soundlessly across the lawn behind the house to the copse of trees at the bottom, then followed the river to the bush forming the Waitangi Forest that lay at the foot of their property. The palms and ferns closed around her, welcoming her into their quiet world, enveloping her in the fresh, earthy smell of nature.
For a while she just walked, staying close to the river so she didn’t get lost, accompanied by flittering fantails hopping from tree to tree, tui birds calling from the high palms, and once even a weta, the huge cricket-like insect—big as her hand—waving its long antennae at her as she passed.
Eventually, she reached the waterfall that tumbled over the rocks, the water dark green in the fading light. There she sank down with her back against a palm and waited for the expected rush of emotion to overtake her.
Strangely, though, the tears didn’t come. Instead, all she felt was a kind of dull acceptance. She’d gone through the five stages of grief, she thought absently—she’d tried to deny it to herself. Grown angry that Dex had told Cathryn intimate details about their relationship. Tried to come to a compromise in her head once she realised it was the truth—maybe it didn’t matter, they could still get over it. Got depressed when she knew that wasn’t going to happen. And now there was nothing to do but come to terms with the fact that the marriage wasn’t going take place. She’d lost him, or he’d lost her. Whichever, they were done.
Maybe I’m not supposed to be happy, she thought. Maybe Fate didn’t have happy families and babies in store for her. She crossed her arms over her stomach and hugged herself tightly, trying to accept that, but the deep longing inside her wouldn’t go away. She was only twenty-five, but the maternal urge had risen strongly in her since she’d met Dex. Yes, of course, she wanted him desperately, but she also wanted the whole package—hearth and home, and children—lots of them. They’d spoken about it, and Dex had been happy to agree to the idea of a large family. And now she’d lost everything.
She pulled her legs close to her, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Of course, there was every chance she’d meet someone else. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Dex had been her one chance at happiness.
In the pocket of her pants, her mobile buzzed. She’d forgotten she still had it on her. She’d put it on silent while in the courthouse and hadn’t yet switched it back.
She took it out and examined the text. It was from her father. They must have realised she’d climbed out of the window.
Just let me know you’re safe.
Her throat tightened. Cam worried so about her. He probably thought she was hanging from a tree somewhere. She texted back, I’m fine. Need time to think. Back later. Then she switched the phone off.
The forest was beginning to darken as the sun set, but the moon was just off full and would give enough light to see by. Honey wasn’t worried. In England she’d often gone walking in the dark in the nearby forest, and the creatures of the bush didn’t frighten her. She rather hoped she’d see a kiwi bird. She’d been to Auckland Zoo and peered into the little houses at them, but she’d not yet seen one in the wild.
The bush rustled a few feet from her and she turned her head tiredly to see what had made the noise. It was a possum, round and furry and cute, its eyes wide and shining in the semi-darkness. It studied her for a moment and then bounded away into the undergrowth.
She closed her eyes. What would she say to Dex when she saw him? And what would he say to her? Would he be apologetic? Angry? Would he cry? She thought she might slap him, too, if he did that. Would he be impatient that she was making such a fuss? Ian would have been. Would have turned it on her, made her feel it was all her fault, that she was overreacting, being too emotional. In the end, she would have been the one to apologise, her head spinning as she wondered how that could possibly have happened.
The bush rustled again to her left. Louder this time. Feet scrunched on twigs and leaves. She sighed and opened her eyes, wondering who’d found her and wishing they’d leave her alone. Then the ferns parted. The first thing she saw was his blue uniform.
Dex stopped in his tracks and for a moment they just studied each other. Honey’s heart pounded. He looked gorgeous and wild at the same time—his hair stuck up as if he’d raked his hands through it several times, and his eyes were wide with fear. As he saw she was all right, though, the fear faded, and he let out a long, slow breath.
Would he demand she get up and accompany him back? Berate her for worrying them all?
He did neither, though. He walked over and sank down onto the ground next to her, back against a rock, his upper arm brushing hers.
Honey’s heart continued to hammer. Inside, she whirled with emotions. But it didn’t escape her that overriding them all was relief.
He took out his mobile and sent a quick text. As he tucked it back into the pocket of his jacket, he glanced over at her. “Sorry. Just letting your dad know I’ve got you.”
A shiver ran down her back. Dex always did that to her. Spoke with the tiniest hint of possessiveness, as if he wanted everyone to know she was his.
“Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he unbuttoned his jacket, slipped it off and placed it around her shoulders.
“Thank you.” She pulled it close, nestling into the thick material. It smelled of him—of warm male, with a hint of his aftershave. It was almost as good as having his arms around her.
There was something bulky in the top pocket, and she undid the button and pulled it out. It was a small bottle of Irish whiskey. “What the hell?”
“I stole it from Cam’s cupboard,” Dex said. “Thought you might need it.”
She studied it for a moment, then undid the top. The sweet, strong smell hit her nostrils, and she placed her lips over the rim, tipped it up and swallowed a large mouthful. It made her cough and the liquid seared all the way to her stomach, but it warmed her right through.
She passed the bottle to him, and he took a swig before passing it back.
They sat silently for a while, listening to the sound of the river chasing itself over the rocks and the low hoot of a morepork celebrating the rising of the moon. Occasionally, they took swigs of the whiskey in turn. He made no move to touch her, and she was glad, because she didn’t want to have to push him away.
Eventually, as her tension eased, she said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
He rolled his head on the rock to look at her. He looked sad, defeated. “I don’t know where to start. With I’m sorry, I suppose, because I am, more than you can ever know. But that doesn’t come near to making things right.”
“No.” It did help, though, that he was sorry. Ian would never have said he was sorry.
“Do you want me to explain what happened?” he asked.
She sighed. Did she want to hear all the gory details? About how he’d stuck his tongue so far down Cathryn’s throat he could have tasted her tonsils? “Not really.”
“It didn’t mean anything, Honey. I know that’s what men always say and it’s a stupid comment because of course it’s not meaningless to you. But it wasn’t a loving kiss. I was angry and frustrated. It wasn’t a nice kiss. I wasn’t nice to her. I don’t think I’ve ever been nice to her.”
Honey sat quietly, thinking about his words. What could she say in reply to that? That it didn’t matter? Because of course it did—the thought of Dex—her Dex—kissing another woman speared her through the heart every time she thought about it.
“The thing is,” she said softly, “it’s not really about the kiss. I know you might not believe me, but actually I kind of understand. I thought about what might have happened if it had been Ian who had turned up on my doorstep, wanting me back. Of course I wouldn’t want that—I don’t want the bastard within a continent of me ever again. But if he was here, standing in front of me… I know what it’s like, how a person can have a hold over you.”
She took a swallow from the bottle, winced, then passed it to Dex. He took another mouthful and passed it back. She examined the label as she continued. “I had to go through it all again today—at the court house.”
“Oh shit of course, how did it go?”
She shrugged. “We found the woman guilty. I held out as long as I could, but ultimately it was eleven to one, and if I’d refused to change my vote we would have had a hung jury and the poor woman would have had to go through it all again. I feel bad about it, but it’s done now.” She picked at the label on the bottle, trying not to think about the defeat on Sarah Green’s face.
“Anyway,” she continued, “As I said, it’s not really about the kiss, or even about Cathryn at all really. I don’t believe you love her. It’s more about what she said. I suppose all she did was confirm the worry that’s been circling in my head for a while.”
“What worry?”
“That I’m not enough for you,” she said, glad when he didn’t brush her words away with platitudes.
Instead, he said, “What do you mean, not enough?”
She turned against the tree to face him. His eyes, usually the same colour as his cornflower blue shirt, had darkened to navy in the fading light.
She didn’t know where this was heading, or even what was going to come out of her mouth. But suddenly it felt important to get to the bottom of things. It was as if they’d spent the past six months growing flowers in a beautiful garden, but finally they were going to dig down into the soil and discover the whole secret world that lived beneath the surface.