Nicola Marsh - Inherited - Baby

‘Guess I wasn’t missed then.’ She couldn’t keep the irony from her voice though she couldn’t fathom the answering flicker of something dark and mysterious in his eyes.

‘Joe knew you loved him. He wouldn’t have needed to see you schmoozing with his phoney mates to prove that.’

‘I guess you’re right,’she said, guilt piercing her soul. She could hardly face the truth even in the deepest part of her, too horrified to admit that she hadn’t loved Joe.

She had at the start. At least, she’d thought she did. Maybe it had been infatuation, maybe it had been a plain old-fashioned crush. She’d been so naïve, so clueless when it came to men that she’d fallen for the first classy guy to look her way, wanting to believe his smooth lines, wanting to believe that he loved her. For someone who’d never known real love growing up, it had been a heady experience.

‘Look, this isn’t any of my business but I know you two had problems and I hope you’re not beating yourself up over them. Joe was fun and spontaneous and affectionate but he could also be a selfish brat.’

Maya didn’t question how Riley knew about her relationship troubles with Joe. She didn’t have to. It hung unspoken in the tense, awkward silence between them and she jumped in relief when the kettle whistled.

‘Joe and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but then I guess that’s part of being a couple,’ she said, pouring boiling water into the mugs, grateful to concentrate on such a mundane task and not have to see the look of judgement on Riley’s face.

Riley was a smart guy and a smart guy would’ve read between the lines and known the argument he’d overheard the night of Joe’s death had only been tip of the iceberg stuff.

A smart guy would’ve twigged that things had been worse. A lot worse.

She’d wanted to explain, to smooth things over with the brother-in-law she never knew but her good intentions had blown up in her face. More to the point, Joe had blown up in her face.

‘Why did you come around that night?’

No use glossing over it. Riley had brought up the subject; she may as well finish it.

He shrugged, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug she handed him and staring into the strong black liquid like a wizard looking for answers in a cauldron.

‘I hadn’t seen Joe in a while. Guess I was worried about him. And you and Chas,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘But you’d never visited before,’she persisted, driven by some strange need to get Riley to talk, perhaps to give her some answers to Joe’s irrational behaviour that night.

‘I know, my fault. Business keeps me busy. I’m pretty much chained to my desk or travelling.’

He sipped at his coffee and Maya couldn’t decide if he was giving her the brush-off or not.

‘Joe never mentioned you much.’

Until he’d gone out with Riley that night, arrived home two hours later reeking of alcohol and spewing forth a torrent of vile accusations that hadn’t made sense. She hadn’t even known Riley, let alone fancied him.

‘Joe and I weren’t as close as I would’ve liked, probably both our faults.’ Riley glanced away, a sad expression on his face before his gaze returned to hers, melancholic, uncertain. ‘He seemed pretty out of control that night. Was that a one-off?’

She wished. ‘Joe wasn’t happy. His behaviour the last few months was erratic.’

Riley frowned. ‘Erratic?’

‘He didn’t spend much time here.’

Major understatement. That night had been typical: with Chas screaming in the nursery at Joe’s escalating abuse, she’d fired back, taunting Joe, hitting his vulnerable spots, knowing it would enrage him further and he’d do what he always did.

Run.

Not come home for days.

Seek and find comfort wherever he could as long as it wasn’t with her.

‘Joe didn’t seem too stable when we chatted that night and I wondered if his death was purely accidental.’

Maya stiffened, understanding Riley’s need to have answers but resenting his inference and the intrusion into her privacy nonetheless.

‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Joe’s car crash was an accident. Joe was too cocky, too full of himself to end his own life.’

Despite her certainty, she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life—that her words had pushed Joe to get behind the wheel of his car when he clearly could barely walk, let alone drive.

She should’ve stopped him.

But she hadn’t.

And it had killed her fiancé, the man who had told her that same night that he’d never had any intention of marrying her, ever, and the humiliating reasons why.

‘You must’ve had a rough time with Joe…’He trailed off, having the grace to look uncomfortable.

‘And what are you trying to do? Make me relive the tough stuff just for old times’ sake?’

The words slipped out before she could stop them and she could see she’d hit below the belt.

‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to say I understand.’

Pity. Stark, obvious pity shone in his eyes and she hated it. She didn’t need Riley’s pity. She didn’t need anything from him.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine. You’ve helped with the funeral and I appreciate it, but now Chas and I would like to be left alone.’

Hot, angry tears threatened her composure. Tears of shame that she’d given him short shrift when he’d been the one person to stand by her the last few days, tears of guilt that a confrontation with Riley could make her cry when she’d been dry-eyed over Joe’s death.

Riley took a sip of coffee, his steady regard never leaving her. Even in the face of her rudeness, he didn’t flinch or fire back.

‘Fine, but Chas is my nephew and I’d like to play a part in his life.’

His calm words embarrassed her, made her feel like a petulant child. ‘Why now? You’ve never shown any interest before.’

Her barb hit home if the faint pink staining his high cheekbones was any indication. However, he still didn’t falter or lose his cool and she had a silly urge to push him, to punish him for being so calm in the face of her offensiveness.

‘Besides, how do you think you’re going to do that? You said business keeps you busy.’

‘I can offer you financial support,’ he said, draining his coffee and rinsing the mug while she glared at his back, irrationally noting the perfect fit of his designer business shirt stretched across his shoulders.

Money. He was offering money.

She should’ve known.

The Bourkes had been born with a silver spoon in their well-fed mouths, had never known a day’s hunger or the desperate, clawing empty feeling of knowing there was no money to buy food for the next week. The yearning for an ice cream cone or the craving for new shoes so that you could be like the other kids.

Uh-uh, guys like Joe and Riley had no idea what it was like to be poor.

Chas needed love and affection and the presence of a stable male influence in his young life—three things she would’ve killed for when growing up.

Instead, Riley was offering money. Cold, hard cash to go along with his cold, hard heart. Just like his brother.

‘You didn’t answer my earlier question. Why the sudden interest in Chas now?’

She kept her voice steady with effort. She couldn’t let him see how rattled she was by his offer of money, how cheap it made her feel.

‘I want to do everything I can for my nephew. He had Joe in the past but Joe’s not here any more.’

Riley glanced away as if he was hiding something but she was too drained to fathom his motives. ‘Besides, if I’m not around a lot, you can use the money to buy him things, keep him occupied, raise him the way Joe would’ve wanted.’

Her eyes narrowed as exhaustion battled with anger, fatigue with confusion. ‘Which way is that? Like a Bourke, you mean?’