Annie West - Rags To Riches - His Wish, Her Command

‘I feel more disappointment than shame. I knew all about touring! How hard a life it was! But I believed that we would have a marriage like my parents. They have been married thirty-five years and are still so much in love it hurts. They can’t bear to be separated.’

Tears started to prick the back of Ella’s eyes now, and she straightened her back on the sofa and tried to slide away, but Seb brought his legs up, blocking her escape.

‘I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere until you get those demons off your chest.’

‘What if I don’t want to talk about it?’ Ella replied, her voice bumbling with more indignation and frustration than she had intended. ‘I’m not proud of having a failed marriage. And I’m even less proud of pretending to the world that it was perfect. Because it wasn’t at the end.’

‘You shared a wonderful few years together. Is that right? Is that true?’

She hesitated, already sensing where Seb was going with this question. For years she had felt the pain of never knowing what might have happened if Christobal had not jumped into that particular taxi cab on that particular day. Her feelings were so mixed up. Guilt. Regret. Disappointment. And fear. But one thing she was clear about was the answer to that question. She had loved Christobal and for a precious time he had loved her. ‘Yes. Yes, that is true.’

Seb slipped off the sofa and leant on the rug in front of the fire so that he was facing her directly. ‘Then celebrate that fact. And move on.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Move on? How do you propose I do that when I have a six-year-old little boy to take care of? If you want to feel sorry for someone, save your sympathy for Dan. He is the one who will never know his dad!’

She was shaking now, her voice harsh and angry despite being little more than a whisper. ‘Dan needs me to be strong for him. I’m all he has.’

Seb reached forward and clasped her hands in his, before she could move them out of reach. ‘How old was Dan when his father died?’

Ella looked into Seb’s eyes and the tenderness and caring in them almost broke her. ‘Eighteen months. No more than a baby really. We were living in Barcelona with his parents back then. Chris was in Mexico on tour when his taxi was broadsided by a truck. No brakes. He died instantly.’

A photo of the crash flashed into her mind and she instantly closed her eyes and squeezed them together to block out the terrible images, suddenly angry with Seb for making her see it again. For taking her back to those dark days of oblivion and pain when she was so very, very alone.

‘It must have been horrible for the whole family. His poor parents!’

‘Oh, yes, his poor parents!’ Ella replied with so much venom in her voice that she pulled her hand away from Seb’s grasp and slapped it over her mouth.

Horrified by what she had said, Ella spun her legs over the edge of the sofa and tried to stand, only to fall back dizzily, light-headed, her heart pounding.

Instantly Seb was holding her upright in his arms, supporting the back of her head with one hand as his other held her firmly against him, close enough for her sobs to be soaked up by the fabric of his shirt.

‘Oh, that was so unfair! Please forget I just said that. I am a horrible person for even thinking that way!’

‘No.’ Seb’s reply was muffled by her hair. ‘You are not a horrible person. Far from it. But something happened to upset you. You have come this far, Ella. You can tell me. Why is there such a rift between you and the Martinez family?’

Ella felt Seb lift up her chin so that she could see him smile down at her as his hand caressed her lower back, holding her in his arms, taking her weight. Supporting her. Those strong arms giving her the strength she needed to tell him the truth.

‘They.’ And she swallowed down hard and clamped her eyes shut as she clutched Seb even closer. ‘They tried to take Dan away from me. And they almost succeeded.’

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