Page 46 of Twin Flames
A fresh wave of guilt clutched at Cara. She’d hoped she’d managed to cut her ties to Daniel and was free. Now she feared she was about to be sucked back into his life in this emotional whirlpool.
When did everything get so complicated?
I want George.
Daniel wants me.
Who does George want?
Cara doubted whether even he knew and she was tired of trying to understand.
Cara entered the private room in the hospital ward and saw Daniel, his head thrown back on the pillow as he snored. The low hum comforted Cara. His snoring used to irritate her, but now it was a reassuring sign of life. He looked frail as he slept. His vulnerable pose plucked at her heart.
She sat by the bed and waited. He wasn't a physically unattractive man—at one time she’d believed herself to be in love with him. But then she realised she was trying to persuade herself to be in love because she was in love with the idea of love.
Once she realised this, the relationship flourished, and she accepted it for what it was. She didn’t explain her feelings to Daniel. And he didn’t have a need to explain his feelings to her. He seemed content with the situation as it was and so she let it be.
One night when he was tipsy on one too many measures of whisky, he had confided in her that the last time his wife had tried to make love to him, they had both known it was over. Soon after, she filed for divorce.
Cara became good friends with Daniel, and they eventually called it an engagement. Cara wasn’t bothered one way or the other, so she had chosen to please him. She talked herself into thinking their platonic love and the lack of passion, would be enough.
It was enough until it wasn’t. Until she met George. From the day he disrupted her life like a force of nature in the bookshop; she knew the way she had been living would never satisfy her soul again. Whatever happened in the future, she was positive that not a day would go by without her pining for him. It was one of those things.
When you know, you know.
She had thought the depth of love she felt for George was only the stuff of romantic novels.She hadn’t expected to fall in love like this, to fall in so deep that it made her previous love affair seem like a pale ghost of the real thing.
Cara lightly thumped her fist against her forehead. Why couldn’t she want the man who wanted her? Then they could all be content with what or who they already had.
She was startled by the melodious ring tone of her phone. It was George. She turned the sound down. It seemed wrong to speak to him in Daniel’s presence even while he slept. Besides, she didn’t want Daniel to know about George. The less he knew, the better. He couldn’t possibly understand the feelings that had erupted between them.
Daniel stirred, opened his eyes and smiled.
‘Here you are. I knew you would come.’ His voice was cracked, his throat dry.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Here, have a sip of water.’ She raised the glass to his lips and supported his head.
‘The lady with the lamp, my very own Florence Nightingale,’ he croaked. He shifted position and after a few seconds drifted back to sleep, satisfied Cara was at his side.
Cara messaged George to let him know she’d arrived and then dropped her phone into her bag. She was here now and would try to focus on Daniel even though she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him.
George would be fine. He’d probably return home to his wife shortly. Cara pushed her bleak thoughts aside and busied herself with Daniel’s chart. She couldn’t understand it and decided to speak to his doctor at the first opportunity.
Daniel slept on, drugged with heavy medication. Cara grew restless. She wandered into the cafeteria, ordered a coffee and then picked up a dog-eared copy of her favourite classic from the waiting room bookshelf.
She settled into the armchair in Daniel’s room. She used to plough effortlessly through books, though recently she’d lost her ability to concentrate. It troubled her. She was so distracted that fictional worlds no longer held her attention.
She turned the pages ofPride and Prejudice, conscious that even now her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of George.
Perhaps there was a spark of hope despite the circumstances.
She read Mr Darcy’s passionate confession.
“In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
She scanned the text for a few minutes and then, with a heavy sigh, closed the book. George wasn’t Mr Darcy. She must stop romanticising him and face up to the reality of the futile situation. Cara fished her phone out of her bag and saw three missed call notifications. Her spirits lifted, a smile shone on her pale, tired face and her feelings overpowered her dark thoughts.
How could she end it with George when he was present in every thought and in everything she did? He was with her every moment of the day. And what about Tudorville? Whatever happened, she’d see him there, so how would she be able to move on?
