Page 7 of Fool Me Twice

Peter pushed through the large front gate and climbed the steep drive up to the house. What was he even doing there in Waverly Bay?

Building a relationship with his son, he told himself as he took out the piece of paper Jaxon had given him with the alarm code written on it.

Bullshit. He squinted at the faded digits in the dark, stepping closer to trigger the motion-sensor lights at the front of the house. Was it a three or an eight? He held the paper up to the light, trying to make it out.

He was running away.

When Mac and Emily had returned to the island and his dog-sitting duties had finished, he’d been all set to go home, but where was home?

Once upon a time, home had been the four-bedroom house he and Cathy had shared in Encinal Bluffs, just a stone’s throw from the beach. They’d thought it was the perfect place to raise a family and had intended to fill it with the kids they’d planned to have.

A house that Shari had insisted they traded in for something further along the coast in Beverly Park, that she felt was more in keeping with their status. A decision he’d regretted ever since.

All his life he’d equated home with family, love, warmth, happiness, all the things you’d see in the old Christmas movies. All the things he used to have.

So where was home now?

The apartment? Beverly Park? LA? New York? England? Where?

None of these places meant anything to him. There were no happy memories crammed into every corner, no treasured mementos or keepsakes taking pride of place on the living room mantlepiece, no smiling photos on the nightstand. These homes were cold, empty spaces filled with things that could have belonged to anyone – just trophies validating Shari’s place amongst her so-called friends.

For the first time, Peter envied Mac’s home life. Growing up, Mac had spent most of his time round at Peter’s house; they were like brothers, despite their situations being very different. Peter’s home abounded with love, warmth, and the delicious smell of freshly baked pies, cakes, or whatever his mother was serving for dinner that evening.

Mac’s mum was a crack addict who turned tricks to feed her habit and wasn’t worried about where her son was or whether he went to bed hungry.

But there was always a hot meal and warm bed waiting for him at the Cook house.

Now the tables had turned. Peter would give anything to have what Mac had with Emily.

Somewhere between losing Cathy and Jaxon turning up, he’d lost himself. He’d existed in a world he didn’t belong to, a place devoid of colour and emotion. Finding out he had a son had felt like he’d been liberated from a jail sentence that had stretched endlessly ahead of him with death his only escape.

He’d thought about making a break for it several times, but as Shari never tired of reminding him, where would he go? Who would want him? He was a washed-up, has been way past his prime. He had nothing and no one except her. And after a while, he started to believe her.

Jaxon’s offer of a place to stay couldn’t have come at a better time. Shari’s behaviour at the wedding had only reinforced what he’d known for a while. It was over for good this time.

After bidding Mac and Emily an emotional goodbye, with lots of manly backslapping and promises of keeping in touch, Peter had headed to Cornwall. Spending time away from Shari and the toxic cesspit that their marriage had become was the only way he’d be able to clear his mind and think about his next step.

Spending time with his son and daughter-in-law was never a hardship for him. He loved them both dearly, but since the success of Jaxon’s band and meeting Anya, the time he spent with Jaxon became less and less. And now Jaxon was heading off soon to re-join his band on their Australian tour, which meant Peter wouldn’t see him again for months.

He’d been blown away when he’d first found out he had a son and couldn’t stop smiling for weeks, much to Shari’s annoyance. She’d tried everything to stop Peter from finding out about his son, even setting her pit-bull lawyer on him, hoping to scare him off. When the threat of lawsuits and restraining orders hadn’t worked, they’d tried to buy him off with a very generous cash lump sum.

But Jaxon had been resolute. He’d refused to be bullied or bought. He’d stood up to Shari, taken every test she’d insisted on, signed paper after paper until finally, she’d run out of excuses and options, leaving her with no choice but to come clean to Peter about him.

Once the initial shock had worn off, feelings of bitterness and resentment began to creep in. Bitterness at Evie for not telling him she was pregnant and resentment at missing out on so much of his son’s life. He needed answers, and the only person who could give them to him was Evie.

Not wanting to involve Jaxon and risk ruining their fledgling relationship, Peter had contacted Evie after returning to the UK on the pretext of having an urgent business matter to attend to. The shock in her voice when she answered his call surprised him. Surely, she’d been expecting to hear from him now that he’d found out about Jaxon?

But for Evie, it seemed the shocks kept coming. Not only had Jaxon not told her he’d been in contact with Peter, it seemed she didn’t know he’d been to LA.

Obviously, Evie needed time to process everything and, the answers he needed had to wait.

The days turned into weeks, with Evie stonewalling every attempt he made to arrange a meeting until he had no choice but to force her hand by suggesting he pay her a visit at home.

They both knew it wasn’t really a choice and Evie had grudgingly agreed to meet him at the hotel he was staying at just outside Bath. He’d willingly have met her somewhere closer to her home, but he’d guessed she didn’t want to risk running into someone she knew.

He waited for her in the orangery at the rear of the hotel. It was a bright, airy space with views across the award-winning gardens that had featured in several magazines, but he was in no mood to appreciate the tropical palms or bursts of colour around him. He shifted restlessly in his seat as his eyes flicked between his wristwatch and the overly large wall clock. Where was she? He reached inside his jacket for his phone, scrolling through the list of missed calls and messages as he searched for Evie’s name. Sliding his phone across the table, it hit the glass in front of him, causing it to spin wildly across the table.

Peter leapt to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the ground moments before the glass rolled off the table, shattering as it hit the floor. He grabbed a handful of paper serviettes from the dispenser on the table and dabbed furiously at the water spreading across the front of his trousers. The commotion alerted the duty manager, who was at his side in seconds, mopping up the liquid with cloths, while another staff member carefully gathered the shards of broken glass before drying the floor.

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