Page 72 of Where the Heart Is

Jack didn’t respond. He finished rinsing the cutlery and the pasta pot, wedged them into the dishwasher, and closed it before facing her, his expression thunderous.

‘Childish? I’m not the one who stomped out of our marriage years ago without looking back.’

‘You were supposed to come after me, you dolt!’ she yelled, losing the fragile grip on her determination to keep things civil. She didn’t want to fight with Jack but maybe if they released all their pent-up bitterness they could move forward and end up in a better place.

She didn’t want an acrimonious divorce. Their newfound friendship had been much better for ending things amicably.

‘Come off it, Ads. Did you really want me running after you?’

Jack rolled his eyes and she saw red.

‘Of course I bloody wanted that! I gave up my life to follow your dreams and what did you do? End up ignoring me and treating me like a maid. I cooked your meals, I raised your kid and your grandkids, and you couldn’t bear to come near me.’ She flung her arms in the air. ‘What the hell was I supposed to do? Wait around for another few decades while you acted like I didn’t exist?’

‘Calm down,’ he said, his tone condescending. She balled her hands into fists, fighting the urge to thump something—or him. ‘I had a lot going on back then and not all of it had anything to do with you.’

‘I was your wife. Of course it had something to do with me.’ She patted her chest. ‘Whatever was going on, we should’ve faced it together. Instead, you shut me out to the point our marriage suffered. And when I left, trying to jolt some sense into you, you didn’t give a damn.’

‘I gave a damn,’ he muttered, scowling. ‘Which is more than I can say for you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means I’m not the one who stayed away. I’m not the one who didn’t come back after they’d had time to think. Fuck, Adelaide, don’t you get it?’ He dragged a hand through his hair, sending it spiking in all directions. ‘What the hell do you think this house is about? I knew it was your dream and I wanted to prove to you how much I cared by building it for when you came back. Tangible proof that your dreams were just as important as mine—but I just couldn’t do everything at once back then.’

Her mouth dropped open at his declaration. She’d wondered if he’d remembered about the sandstone cottage on their honeymoon, and it looked like he had. But finding out like this—with harsh words and recriminations—was all wrong.

‘Why didn’t you reach out? Invite me to come back?’

‘Because my wife shouldn’t need a bloody invitation to come home.’ His voice rose and anger flushed his cheeks. ‘I wanted you to come home forme, not some fucking house.’

He strode a few steps away, his chest heaving, and for an insane moment she wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, and apologise. But there’d been two of them involved in tanking this marriage and this conversation was long overdue.

‘Did you stop to think there was a reason, many reasons, why I couldn’t come back?’ She held up her hand to tick them off her fingers. ‘One, my husband didn’t want me, because he hadn’t touched me in years. Two, my husband took me for granted. Three, my husband looked through me most days. Four, my husband didn’t want to listen when I tentatively broached the subject of our marital problems.’ She pushed her thumb down last. ‘Five, I found the real me when I left and indulged my passion for art, and you never gave two hoots about any of that because nothing was as important to you as the farm.’

By the time she finished, a potent mix of anger and indignation tightened her chest, and she dragged in several breaths to calm down. When she risked a glance at Jack, he appeared gutted.

‘Ever wondered why the farm was so important to me?’

She snorted. ‘Because you were wrapped up in some fantasy of maintaining your family legacy, living up to the expectations of dead parents who never deemed you good enough, or so you said once.’

He paled, hurt evident in the slump of his shoulders. ‘It was important to me because I knew you’d given up a cushy life to be with me and I wanted to provide you with the best of everything.’

Stunned by his admission, she said, ‘I didn’t want the best of everything, Jack. I only wanted you.’

‘But I had this fear you’d leave if I couldn’t provide for you and the family, and that’s what drove me every day.’ His harsh laugh held zero amusement. ‘Ironic, considering you left me regardless.’

‘What do you want me to say, Jack? That I’m sorry?’ She flung her arms wide, not proud of her theatrics but wishing she could rattle some sense into him. ‘I’ve already apologised and it doesn’t seem to have made an ounce of difference. You’re still playing the blame game and I’m the baddie in all this.’

‘I was lost without you!’ he yelled, flushing puce as he thumped his fist on the kitchen counter. ‘You were everything to me and I’ve never recovered …’ He trailed off, his lips set in a thin line. ‘So now you know. Happy?’

‘You think this makes me happy?’ She waved a hand between them. ‘Us going at each other trying to score points?’ She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. ‘The thing is, Jack, I have been happy since I’ve been back. Happy when we had dinner at the pub. Happy when you look at me like you used to in the early days. Happy when we … you know …’

His gaze locked on her, daring her to articulate what they both knew.

The happiest they’d been since she returned was when they’d been driven by lust.

‘Does this make you happy, Ads?’

He stalked across the kitchen and took hold of her arms, his grip surprisingly soft, his thumbs skimming her bare skin.

---