Page 127 of For Love or Money
‘There’s no rush. Whenever you’re ready. Would you like anything else? Another drink?’
‘No thanks,’ she said. ‘Let’s go. I think I’m done here.’
They wentto their rooms to change and pack their bags. Back in her room, Stella kicked off her heels, and threw her overnight case on the bed. She opened the wardrobe to grab the clothes she’d travelled in last night, and froze when she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the door. She felt a sudden stab of self-pity as she looked at her reflection. How ridiculous to have thought her mother would be impressed by any of this. The beautifully tailored suit was exquisite, her hair smooth and straight, with not a strand out of place, her nails perfectly manicured. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages ofVogue. But it was all just surface polish, and her mother saw through it to the same grotesque, unlovable creature she’d always been. She flung off the jacket and threw it on the bed, blinking back tears as she unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it. She was pathetic, she thought, as she automatically folded her clothes neatly and put them in the case, her movements precise and robotic.
She tried to concentrate on the positive things that had happened today – like seeing Dan and introducing him to Rafe as her brother. But it was all tinged with such sadness and loss. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the turbulent emotions of the day, she sank onto the bed in her underwear, unable even to summon the energy to pull on her jeans, and gave into full-blown heaving sobs that racked her body and tore at her chest. Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop, and it was as if every unshed tear from the past twenty-six years was finally being unleashed.
She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there like that when her phone buzzed. She glanced down at it as it vibrated on the bed. It was Peter. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to pick it up. She just sat staring at it numbly until it rang off.
She had letit ring out three times when there was a rapping at the door.
‘Stella?’ She jumped as Rafe called her name. She gulped hard, trying to stem the tears that kept on coming. ‘Just a minute,’ she called, swiping at her eyes. Her voice sounded thick and croaky. She grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it on, desperately trying to pull herself together. But it was no use.
‘Are you okay?’ Rafe called through the door. She opened it a crack and peered around it.
‘Sorry, I was just—’
‘Christ!’ She saw the shock on his face, his eyes wide with alarm, and she stared at him helplessly as the tears continued to flow. She was powerless to resist as he pushed the door open fully and strode into the room, not caring that she was only half dressed as he gathered her into his arms. He manoeuvred them over to a chair by the window and sat, pulling her into his lap. Then he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair while she sobbed, clutching onto him fiercely, her head buried in his shoulder.
Finally she was all cried out, and her sobs subsided. She lifted her head, swiping at her eyes.
‘Dad said he was ringing and you weren’t answering,’ Rafe said. ‘He was worried.’
‘I should call him,’ she said, looking at her phone where it lay on the bed, but still not stirring.
‘I think we should stay here tonight,’ Rafe said. ‘You can have a bath, get room service.’
Stella nodded. ‘That sounds good.’ She felt limp and washed out, completely drained after her emotional meltdown.
‘I’ll talk to Dad if you don’t feel up to it.’
‘Thanks. What did you tell him ... about today?’
‘Not much, just that you’d had an upsetting day. I didn’t tell him what happened at the church or about your family. And I won’t, if you don’t want me to.’
‘It’s okay. Peter knows about them. He knows they’re not part of my life.’
‘Well, why don’t I call him, and you go have that bath?’ Rafe said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
Stella nodded and stirred. A bath sounded good, but really she just wanted to stay right where she was, in Rafe’s lap with his arms around her. Reluctantly she pushed herself up, a little shiver running through her as his hand brushed against her bare leg. Their eyes met and held, and Stella stood mesmerised as he held the phone to his ear, the air suddenly feeling charged with electricity.
‘Dad,’ Rafe said, his eyes flicking away, and the spell was broken. She grabbed her pyjamas from the bed and made a dive for the bathroom, suddenly filled with adrenaline. She heard Rafe murmuring in the other room as she closed the door behind her and got undressed.
Shit! What the hell had happened out there? She couldn’t think about Rafe like that. She was marrying his father, for God’s sake!
A long hot soak in the bath soothed and calmed her, and she felt infinitely better as she got out and towelled herself dry.
‘Better?’ Rafe asked when she rejoined him, dressed in her pyjamas. She was glad she’d brought them because she really didn’t fancy getting dressed again. They were light and comfortable, and respectable enough. Rafe was still sitting in the chair by the window, a glass of whiskey on the table beside him.
‘Much, thanks. Sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Your father’s funeral maybe, your uncles chasing you out of the church ... take your pick.’
She smiled, grateful for his understanding. ‘Yeah, I guess it was a long time coming.’ She hadn’t cried at the funeral or when Dan told her their father was dead. She hadn’t cried when her parents threw her out at sixteen. She’d known crying would only have made things worse when the other kids at school had bullied her. Even when she’d split her ear open on the ice, she’d managed to choke down her tears. Her father didn’t like cry-babies. ‘Did you talk to Peter?’
‘Yes. He sends his love. Do you want something from the minibar?’
‘Yes, please. I’ll have one of those,’ she said, nodding to his drink.
