Eva kissed her son on his forehead and handed him over to her mother, then placed his bag by the front door as she turned.
“Thanks, Mum.” She glanced at her watch.
If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for work.
“It’s fine, Eva. Some days are just harder to get moving, aren’t they, Matty?” Emilia Adams cooed at the little boy. “Are you ready to spend the night at Oma and Opa’s house tonight? We’re going to have so much fun!”
“Fun!” he repeated, then nodded and wiggled to get down and shot off toward the chest of toys in the living room, his tiny overall-covered body bouncing in that particular way all toddlers seemed to run. Eva hid her smile. He’d have the entire lot strewn around the floor within ten minutes.
“Thanks for having him stay over tonight, Mum. I think I might have a huge bubble bath later and a big ole glass of wine. Maybe read a book in there too, while I’m at it.”
“Are you still going out with Sam tomorrow?”
Eva nodded. “She wants to see that band that’s playing in the park tomorrow morning. Last Man Standing, I think they’re called.” She leaned in to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I should be home today ’round the normal time. Maybe even a bit earlier. I should be back in Bialga by midday, if you needed me.”
Her mother nodded, keeping her attention on the three-year-old tearing into the toys. “No problem, love.” Her attention moved to Eva, and she smiled. “Have you found a house that’s taken your fancy yet? Now that you have a sizeable deposit, it would be the time to buy.”
Eva nodded. “I have a few that I wouldn’t mind looking at. I’ll bring my laptop with me and show you and Dad tonight.”
It would be so nice to own her home, some place that couldn’t be taken away from her and Matty if the landlord decided to not renew their lease. A place where she was paying for their future, not someone else’s.
“Lovely.” Her mother groaned and swooped into the living room proper and swept Matty up off the floor, just as he stuffed an ancient, half-eaten biscuit into his mouth. “Where on earth did you find that?” She fished it out and glanced at Eva. “Looks like it’s going to be one of those days.”
Eva laughed and walked backward. “On that note …”
Her mother shooed her absently as Eva closed the door behind her and hurried to where she’d parked in the driveway.
Dammit!
She would be late now if she dithered any longer. True, technically she didn’t have to be at the build site each day—that was what she had a project manager for—but she liked to pop in at least once a day to make sure everything was going fine.
Sure. If you believe that’s the only reason you go by each morning, I have a pretty little bridge I’d like to sell you …
It didn’t hurt that a certain Jameson was usually there with his brother each morning. She cringed. What did that say about her? That she was crushing hard on a guy who wasn’t emotionally available? Or even a good fit for her and her son. Each time she saw him, though, she couldn’t help how she felt. Something about the man wound deep within and sank into her very bones.
Sighing, she turned onto the highway and headed toward the Crossing. She’d be there in half an hour.
On time. Just.
She’d seen him each day for the last week, right there on time with Max, head in the plans or chatting to the contractors. He’d even offered to pitch in and help but hadn’t been needed due to the extra crews she’d hired.
What a shame. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that, then she could’ve seen him working there every day.
She blew out a breath as she rounded a corner. Again—stupid, stupid, stupid!
Getting involved with a man who’d lost his wife only a year ago wasn’t smart. That was even supposing he’d be interested.
At least she now understood why he’d backed off so fully. But that didn’t stop her traitorous brain from reliving those short moments over and over each night.
His kisses. The way he’d touched her. The way he’d commanded her to …
Heat flooded her face, yet again.
She shook her head at herself. If she continued like this, people would think she had a blood-pressure problem.
Eva’s mobile phone vibrated in her handbag and a notification came up on the information screen in her car. She sighed as it was read out.
Vance. Again.
He’d messaged a couple of times over the last week, the first one an apology. She’d ignored all of them, thinking he’d take the hint, but no. It was times like this she wished she’d changed her number.
I can always block him …
And if he became much more of a nuisance, she would. He still hadn’t even mentioned their son, not once. Not that she expected him to, but it would’ve made him seem less of an ass if he had.
She’d dug around on his social media to find that, yes, indeed, he was again single. He’d commented on her company’s post about her award win, the red flags waving nice and high for her about why he’d contacted her after so long. She was under no illusions—the man was after money and nothing else, no matter how he might couch it.
She wasn’t going there again and never with him. Besides her own mental health, she wasn’t letting him within spitting distance of Matty, not when it would hurt her son so much when he left again.
And leave he would. Once he’d found a way to slither his way back into her heart, he’d find a way to slither into her bank account, then … poof! He’d be gone.
If the man had had any brain at all, he would’ve realised the only way to get to her would’ve been through Matty. By actually paying their little boy some attention. By being a father.
Vance was such a narcissist that he couldn’t even figure that one out, and she thanked her lucky stars daily that he hadn’t.
She hit the town limits and glanced down the mall as she went around the roundabout.
Coffee. She needed coffee and one of those incredible cupcakes Cat made. Eva had stopped in there many times over the last couple of years, on her way to or from wherever she was going that day. She’d come to love those cupcakes with a passion.
“Lucky I decided to only get them once a week,” she muttered.
And today was her once a week.
She hadn’t had time for breakfast this morning. Matty having been a bit grumpy and belligerent with his own food. She was a thirty-three-year-old woman. There was no one around to tell her she couldn’t have a cupcake for breakfast, and even if they did, they could go jump.
Pulling into the council car park at the rear of the mall shops, she found an easy park down the bottom near the Lakewalk, the car park itself quite empty due to the time of day.
Ten to seven. She had ten minutes before the crews would be onsite.
She was used to the early mornings. Having a baby had dispelled any thoughts of sleeping in.
Matty believed that as soon as the sun even thought about rising, it was playtime.
Eva’s flats tapped lightly on the boards of the Lakewalk as she came to Kitty Cat’s Cupcakes. The bell above the doorway tinkled and Cat looked up from behind the counter.
“Eva! Cupcake day, I take it?” she asked with a grin.
Eva couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “However did you guess?”
Cat winked and waved at the glass display cases in front of her. “You have your pick. You’ve beaten the rush. Coffee?”
Eva nodded. “The usual, plus one each for Max and Simon.”
Cat nodded and turned to start the order. Alex, the project manager, usually got his own on his way from Bialga, as did most of the crew, although some of them had temporarily moved to the Crossing during the working week. She’d made the mistake of buying too many coffees a few times, until Alex had told her not to worry.
The usual unicorns, puppies, rainbows, and smiley faces all beckoned from within the gleaming, lit glass.
What to choose?
The next display case to her left caught her eye and Eva let out a loud, “Oooh!”
Piped buttercream in the shades and shapes of the Australian bush looked back at her. Then roses, and … “Oh my goodness! Butterflies? You are a genius!”
Cat chuckled as she pushed the button for the coffee to start through the portafilter. “They’re edible paper wafers. Even I’m not that good.”
Sunflower heads shone bright, happy yellow with brown centres; curled and delicately twisted toffee shards that looked like flames stuck up from others.
Eva’s eyes lit on the next set, “Bees! You have bees! I want the bees.”
The cutest ever yellow bumblebees with black bands sat atop some piped buttercream daisies.
Cat’s chuckles turned into full laughter. “You’re the lucky first person to have them. I haven’t done bees before.”
“I would like six, please.”
Cat turned, one eyebrow raised, a cheeky grin on her lips.
“Two each, just in case Max and Simon decide they like them.”
She’d keep her second in her esky with the ice bricks and take it home to Matty. Cat nodded and filled the cups she’d readied on the bench. Maeve pushed through the swinging doors, another tray of cupcakes in hand, walking them through to the centre stand behind Eva.
“Mornin’, Eva!” she chirped.
“Hi, Maeve.”
Cat set the coffees into a travel tray and carefully grabbed six cupcakes and slipped them into a box with a clear section in the lid.
Eva paid and grabbed her bounty, pushing backward out of the door with her butt. Hurrying back up the Lakewalk, she couldn’t help eyeing off the cupcakes.
They looked delicious. Utterly, unforgivingly delicious.
As she came to her dual-cab work ute—a wonderful perk of the job—the sound of a door slamming shut caught her attention. She glanced up to see Simon walking toward the rear of the car park, seemingly from the back of the shops that lined the mall. His hands were shoved deep in his jean’s pockets, his shoulders hunched. Flicking her gaze ahead of him, she saw his immaculate, baby blue, nineteen-fifties ute parked back near the trees.
Goosebumps peppered her skin; the same way it did every time she saw the man.
Stop it, Eva! Just … stop it.
She set the coffees and cupcakes down on the bonnet of her ute and watched as Simon stopped, turned back toward the door he must have come from, then stop dead in the middle of the car park.
What on earth is he doing?
His behaviour was as erratic as they came, looking as if he simply didn’t know where he wanted to go.
Stepping around the back of her ute, Eva called out as she walked toward him, her head tilted to the side. “Simon? You okay?”
His head jerked up, and he stumbled back as if in surprise. Then he frowned, his face like a thundercloud. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Eva blinked, taken aback at his tone. He’d never spoken to her like that. Sure, they hadn’t known one another long, but he’d never taken that tone in front of her with anyone other than her ex.
“I, uh …”
He dragged a hand through his hair, hair that looked like it’d had that treatment a lot recently and looked around the car park as if cornered.
What the heck is going on?
She moved closer. Something was definitely wrong. He glanced at her, and she almost gasped out loud. The look in his eyes was that of a cornered animal, not the man she was coming to know.
“Simon?” she questioned gently.
His gaze fell on her again and he stepped backward. “Just leave me alone. Just … go,” he whispered, his face contorting in pain.
There was no way in hell she was leaving him here like this. Not alone.
“Do you need me to call any—”
“No! Okay? Don’t call anyone. Don’t pretend that you care. Don’t—” His voice caught, and he shook his head. “Just don’t.”
Eva fought the sting of rejection his words brought, but looked closer.
The man was hurting. Lashing out.
“What’s wrong? How can I help you?” She kept her voice low, calm, soothing. Like when she had to calm Matty down if he’d worked himself up to fever pitch.
Simon focused on her then. Fully focused. And Eva’s gut twisted at the pain she saw deep in his eyes. The same desolation she’d seen that night in Bialga when they’d first met.
“You can’t,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word. His eyes filled with tears, glinting in the early morning light. “No one can.”
He sank to his knees, his head bowed, his hands gripping his thighs hard, his knuckles white with the pressure. Ragged gasps sawed into his lungs. Eva hurried the last few steps to him and sank down beside him, her dress pants not doing much to protect her legs from the sharp bitumen. She touched his shoulder.
“Please, Simon. What’s wrong? I need to know.”
Despair-ridden eyes lifted to hers. Tears coursed down his cheeks. “She’s dead. She’s dead, and it’s my fault.”
His face crumpled as sobs shook his entire body. Eva threw her arms around him and pulled him tight, his head going to her shoulder, his face pressing into her neck. Hot, wet tears streaked her skin.
She’s dead? His wife? Is that who he means?
He clutched at her sides; his hands fisted in the soft linen of her shirt.
“It will be okay, Simon. It really will.”
He shook his head against her skin. “I-if we hadn’t been trying for a goddamn baby, she’d still be alive.” His arms tightened, letting go of her shirt to wrap around her, as if she was all that tethered him to reality. “She was pregnant. A-and she died. It’s my fault,” he rasped.
Eva fought her own rising sadness at seeing him like this, so that she could think clearly. She’d been pregnant?
Sadness and realisation flooded her at the same time and twisted her belly into a tight, hard knot.
He didn’t hate kids. Quite the opposite. He’d been ready to be a father.
But how could he think it was his fault?
“She died in front of me, Eva. Right fucking there! She’d been unwell for a couple of days—you know, cramps—but she changed the doctor’s appointment so she could get a scan. She said she was fine. Then she collapsed in the paddock. She was in so much pain. I called an ambulance, but by the time they got there she was … s-she was gone.”
Eva rubbed his back as her heart broke into tiny pieces for the man falling apart in her arms. Tears ran down her own face, dripping off her chin as she tried to console him. She knew there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that could ever make it better.
“How?” Her whispered word could barely be heard.
Simon shook his head and sucked in a ragged breath; his voice raw. “Ectopic pregnancy. The baby killed her.”
Eva screwed her eyes shut, the tears coming faster.
Fuck.
She didn’t swear very often, but this was one of the times it was warranted. She hugged his shaking form even tighter. Simon responded by gripping her so tight that he almost seemed a part of her. She tried to control her breathing. It wouldn’t help him if she became a blubbering mess while trying to comfort him.
Placing her cheek to the top of his head, she spoke. “I’m so sorry. I just … I’m sorry.”
Darby had said it was almost a year since his wife had died. Realisation hit hard.
“Simon?”
She waited until he acknowledged her.
“When?” She didn’t need to say anything else. He knew what she meant. Her own heart seemed to stop before he even replied. She suddenly knew what he was about to say.
Simon rasped in a deep, shaky breath.
“A year ago—today.”