Page 26

“There’s nothing you could have done, Mitch. I didn’t blame you. I missed you, that’s all.”

His gaze comes back to me. “So… what happened with your mum?”

“She’d had an operation. She was recovering slowly.” I let out a shaky breath as I recall the event. “Dad had a couple of weeks off work to look after her, but he had to go back eventually. It was the day of the school book fair, and I was busy, dashing around, so I didn’t call in.” I swallow hard. “She’d been a bit breathless, apparently, although I didn’t know that. Dad told her to call the doctor’s surgery and make an appointment, but she doesn’t appear to have done that. He came home at five and found her on the floor. She’d been there for a couple of hours, they think. She was still alive, and he called the ambulance, but by the time I got to Whangarei Hospital, she was gone. It was a pulmonary embolism, caused by a blood clot that travelled to her lung.”

“Shit, that’s so awful.”

“Yeah… I hate to think of her lying there alone for hours in pain.” I swallow hard.

Mitch observes me quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was tough for Millie, losing her grandmother.”

“Especially with her father not being around.” His voice is hard. “I still can’t believe he didn’t come to the funeral.”

“Me neither. That hurt a lot.”

He swirls the whisky over the ice. “What would you do if he got in touch with you now and asked for a second chance?”

I hesitate. I’m convinced it would never happen, but Mitch doesn’t know that. He’s wondering whether, if it did happen, I’d agree to have Jayden back.

The truth is—I don’t know. I have to put Millie first, and it would be better for her to grow up with both parents. Wouldn’t it?

Even if we were all miserable? I sigh.

Mitch clears his throat. “So… he hasn’t been back to see Millie?”

I shake my head. “He calls once a week.”

“Big fucking deal.”

My lips curve up. He just glowers.

“Maybe I should call him,” he says. “Try and convince him to come back.”

I feel a flare of something—irritation? Frustration? Anger?—that my husband has to be talked into coming back to me. “Don’t do it on my account.” I finish off my wine. “I think I might go to bed. I’m really tired today. I don’t know why.” I get up and start clearing the plates. “Feel free to stay up as long as you like, though.”

“Nah, I’m tired too. Let me help you.”

We carry the plates through to the kitchen. I stack the dishwasher, conscious of him leaning against the counter, watching me, then straighten and meet his eyes.

“The man needs his head tested,” he says.

That makes me give a bashful smile. “Aw.” I turn away. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

He picks up his backpack. I look in on Dad, who’s sitting in a chair, reading while he listens to music, and kiss him goodnight. Then I lead Mitch up the stairs. I check on Millie briefly, but she’s sleeping soundly, sprawled across the bed like a starfish, so I pull the door almost shut.

“Down here,” I whisper, leading him along past my room to the bedroom at the end. It’s a nice room, overlooking the park, with a queen-size bed, decorated in sea-greens and blues.

“It’s great,” Mitch says, lowering his backpack to the floor. “Thank you so much for having me here.”

“Couldn’t have you sleeping in that old bed,” I say wryly, shuddering at the thought of the stains on the duvet. I walk to the door. “Shall I go in the bathroom first?”

“Of course. I might read for a while.”

“Okay. I hope you sleep well.”

“Thanks. You too. And Vix?”