Page 44 of Wilder at Heart
‘Sorry.’ Her voice is quiet. So quiet, I turn to look at her. I’m turned on, and frustrated, and confused, but she’s desolate.
‘It’s fine. I mean, it’s a giant ego basher to be propositioning a woman and discover she’s thinking about Jonathan fuckingHolmes, for Christ’s sake. But I’ll take it, because I care about you. But you’ve got to help me out here. Help me understand what it is about this bloke that makes him worth fighting for, after what he’s done to you. Because’—I lean back heavily onto the lounger and rake my hand through my hair—‘I do. Not. Get it.’
She crosses her arms and stays silent.
‘Belle. I’m not going to take the piss. Just—help me understand. I want to know what’s going on inside that head.’
A pause. Then: ‘He’s my safe place.’
Right. ‘That’s not a very sexy answer. Safety is over-rated.’
She pushes herself up to sitting and twists to face me. Oh shit. Her expression is thunderous.
‘Oh my God. Says the guy whose parents are still together and madly in love, and fucking gazillionaires. Believe me,Romeo, when you’ve never felt safe in your whole life, safety is the most precious thing there is. And the sexiest.’
I stare up at her, brain whirring, heart thumping in my chest cavity. ‘You’ve never felt safe?’
‘Not till Jonathan came into my life, no.’
‘Do you—do you want to talk about it?’ I push myself up so I’m leaning on my elbow.
‘Not really.’ She draws her knees up to her chest and hugs them, laying her cheek on them so she’s facing me. ‘But I’m willing to give you the quick version. Basically, my parents fought a lot. Over money, mainly. Then my dad left. He walked out when I was thirteen—he said my mum was “too much”. Mum didn’t take it well. She had bouts of depression the whole way through my teenage years, and a lot of the time, she couldn’t get out of bed.
‘So I got left to carry the can outside of school. We had some money coming in from my dad, not much, but my grandparents—Mum’s parents—helped out a bit, too. But I had to do a lot of the cooking, food shopping, housework. You get the picture. I mean, it wasn’t a total disaster. She loved me—loves me—but it was scary, at times. It’s scary when you can’t help someone. You feel so fucking useless. And angry, because… well, even though I knew it wasn’t her fault, it was still frustrating. You know?’
The knuckles gripping her knees are white. I put my hand on top of one of hers.
‘Yeah. Well no, I don’t know at all, but I can only imagine. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thanks.’ Her huge eyes are fixed on mine, and I couldn’t look away, even if I tried. ‘That’s why I loved school. I was so happy there. I could work hard, and it got me results, and it made my teachers happy. I had some leverage. Some control. Anyway, I got out. Eventually. I got a full bursary for Cambridge—it was the only way I would have been able to go—and when I got there, it was like a parallel universe.’
I can only imagine. My mind reels at how Nora must have perceived the entitlement she saw there, coming from what she’d had to put up with. Rich kids like me, with not a care in the world, pissing our golden opportunity up the walls, out on the lash, night after night. Flaunting our money. Our privilege.
She takes a shuddery breath. Her hand shifts under mine.
‘And then I met Jonathan.’
Jonathan. Captain Sensible. Mr Safe Haven.Fuck, I’m stupid.
‘And he made you feel safe.’
‘Yeah.’ Her face turns dreamy. ‘I don’t think I realised how exhausted I’d been, carrying everything on my own for so long. But he took care of me. It wasn’t that he did everything for me; not at all. He just made me feel so completely adored and supported that it gave me the strength to feel I could do it all. And it was… amazing. Like being in this cocoon. I felt invincible, being part of a couple with him.’
‘I can see that,’ I tell her. ‘And you deserve to feel like that. You do, sweetheart. I can see how appealing that must have been. I’m glad he was able to give you that.’ I gaze at her, and will her with my eyes to feel my sincerity. Because I mean it.
Fuck, I mean it.
‘Thanks.’
She leans her head onto my shoulder, and I sit there, enjoying the weight of it. Now that I’ve got her to open up, to trust me a little, I want to keep her talking.
‘So,’ I ask as gently as I can, ‘you guys started having problems, and then he met Lucy?’
‘Not really. Well, the way he tells it, yes. But I was unaware. I always wanted to make sure I looked after him too, you know? Like, I didn’t want to just take and take from him. From where Iwas standing, it was a pretty equal, loving relationship where we looked out for each other. But he said my brand of caring took the form of nagging. Of trying to chivvy him along all the time. I had no idea he felt like that, or that I was guilty of that, but maybe he was right.’
‘And he never brought any of this up until he met Lucy?’
‘Nope.’ Her voice is flat. ‘But apparently, just like my mother, I was “too much”.’
