A Valentine Kiss. Christy McKellen

me you aren’t because I can see that you are.’

      ‘Honestly, it’s nothing,’ she replied, picking at her pizza, and he had to force himself not to be annoyed by her denials. He had to force himself not to push her just because he wanted to know. Because he wanted to help.

      So he didn’t answer her, biting from a slice of pizza that he didn’t taste, chewing mechanically, waiting for her to speak. Her hands grew busier, and soon there was a pile of cheese on her plate and her pizza base was nearly bare. Still, he waited, because he could see it unnerved her, and perhaps it would do so enough that she would open up to him.

      ‘I have to apologise.’

      The words came out of nowhere, and Jordan felt a short moment of pride that his patience—a trait that maybe he needed more of—had paid off, before reacting to her words.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I haven’t...kept in touch with her like I should have. Not after the baby.’

      She didn’t look at him, and concern edged into his heart.

      ‘You were in a difficult place.’

      ‘And that’s when you’re supposed to turn to your friends, not push them away,’ she said hotly, and then lifted a hand to her mouth as though she was surprised at her own words.

      He could believe that, since it was the way he felt, too. Did she mean she shouldn’t have pushed him away either?

      ‘Maybe Lulu should have understood,’ he replied carefully.

      ‘Maybe,’ she repeated. ‘Maybe I expected her to.’

      They were talking about the two of them, he knew, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak plainly.

      ‘You would have had to say it. How else would she have known?’

      ‘Because she’s my friend.’

      You were my husband.

      ‘She should have known.’

      You should have stayed.

      ‘People don’t just know things, Mila,’ he said with anger, the only emotion he was ready to accept. ‘You have to tell them.’

      ‘Because saying things means so much, right?’ she replied calmly.

      But he saw the ice in her eyes and he knew the calm was just a front.

      ‘Like when you say things like “until death do us part”? That means you can never go back on it?’ She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to reply.

      Just beneath his anger, he felt the guilt. When he had left he had gone back on his word. But he wouldn’t have if she hadn’t done it first.

      ‘You said it, Mila. You have to turn to your friends when you need them, not push them away. You were the first one to go back on your word.’

      Her eyes widened, and it seemed that for a moment the ice melted as a tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away and stood.

      ‘This was a mistake. Pretending we could do something as simple as having a meal together without getting into some kind of argument.’ She slammed her plate onto the coffee table. ‘Neither of us may be innocent in what happened between us, but don’t for one moment think I went back on my word. I lost our baby. My body failed us. So when I asked for space I was racked with guilt. I was devastated. But you didn’t even fight. You left like it was the easiest decision you ever made.’

      ‘It was the hardest decision I ever made,’ he shot back, setting his plate next to hers and standing, too, his body riddled with tension, with emotion. ‘But it was better for me to focus on my work, on something I could control.’ He frowned at the unexpected admission, and shook his head. ‘It was the best decision, Mila.’

      ‘For who, Jordan? You or me?’

      She wiped at another tear and it pierced his heart.

      ‘This is so silly. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’

      He couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stay—knew that if he did he needed to say something other than the accusations that were coursing through his mind.

      When he heard her bedroom door close he flopped down on the couch, thinking about her words. She’d wanted him to stay. The realisation was a blow to his heart that he didn’t know he could recover from, and the niggling in the back of his mind—the niggle that had always made him doubt his decision to leave—finally gained ground.

      He had believed that he was doing the right thing for her. But her words now made him wonder if it had been only for her, or for him, too. His own words seemed to prove that it had.

      He thought about how relieved he had been to focus on something he could control, to focus on his work. Unlike the day when Mila had fallen and he’d had no choice but to sign the forms approving the emergency C-section. Unlike the subsequent loss of his son that he’d been unable to do anything about, just as he had been able to do nothing about Mila’s grief and suffering.

      He froze as his father’s accusation about why he’d left played back in his head. For the first time he considered it. If Jordan had left Cape Town—had left the wife who’d needed him—because it reminded him of his mother’s illness, then Jordan had been running. When Mila had asked him for space to deal with the tragedy of losing their child he had run away. From her pain...from his. Because he hadn’t wanted to see her suffer—emotionally or physically—as his mother had. Because he didn’t want to watch on, helpless, as his father had.

      Pain stabbed through him and he rested his head in his hands. Were those the real reasons he had left?

       CHAPTER SIX

      MILA WOULD HAVE liked a day to ignore the world and lick her wounds. To ignore the fact that the tension between her and Jordan was making her feel ill. She knew that she was causing it—that if she could just sit back and agree as she had during their marriage, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was.

      But words kept pouring from her mouth as if she had no control over them. Maybe because she’d realised control didn’t do anything. Jordan had still left, even though she had done—and said—everything she’d supposed to. She had managed to alienate her best friend—her only friend—even though she had always gone out of her way to make sure everyone liked her. To make sure she would always have someone who wanted her.

      But when the doorbell rang the next morning she knew that she wouldn’t be able to wallow. Not only because she had to meet Lulu, but because the meeting was only a part of what she needed to do for the event.

      She’d made some progress—Karen’s manager had told her that he would run the event by the singer and confirm after that. Her marquee contact had agreed to the customised design, his complaints about the short timeline quelled by the generous amount of money she’d offered. And on her to-do list that day was getting in touch with the food vendors and checking their availability for the next month. That and Karen would determine the date of the event, and once that was confirmed she would be able to start the marketing process.

      Before she could get to that list, though, she needed to face Lulu.

      Her hands were shaking as she made her way to the front door. She took a deep breath before she opened it, and then she smiled.

      ‘Hi!’ she said, and her eyes swept over Lulu.

      Her first thought was that Lulu hadn’t changed all that much. Her face was still oval shaped, her hair cut close to her head. Her brown skin was smooth, her light brown eyes careful as she looked at Mila. Her second thought was that none of that mattered when there was something massive that had changed.

      ‘You’re pregnant...’ Mila said through frozen lips, and her heart sped up. Her breath threatened to speed