Always Mr. Wrong by Joanne Rawson Read Free Book Online Page B

was just closing Olivia’s bedroom door.
    “Is she okay?”
    Hearing me, he turned and put his fingers to
his lips. “Yes,” he whispered. “She had a bad dream. I sat with her
for a bit. She’s sound asleep now.”
    “Thank you. I’m sorry I never heard her.”
    “I couldn’t sleep. Too many things going
around in my head.” Taking my hand, he led me back to the
bedroom.
    In silence, we got back into bed. For a few
moments we both lay looking up at the ceiling.
    “Okay, if you want me to I’ll do the baby. If
you want me to I’ll give up work or take an au pair...if you want
me to.”
    He stretched out his arm, pulled me to him,
wrapping his arm around me. “I don’t want you to have to want
to for me. I want you to want to for you.”
    I buried my head in his chest, “Guy, I’m so
scared, so scared that if I say I don’t want to I will lose
you.”
    His grip tightened around me, making me feel
safe. “Clare, I have spent my whole life looking for that special
someone to share my life with, and she’s right here, laying in my
arms. If it means keeping you here, I suppose I will have to accept
that is what you want. I suppose I can live without the whole
package.”
    I pulled myself away, sat up in bed and
looked down at the love of my life. “No, Guy, if you have to suppose and accept , this marriage won’t work. I’ve
been that person. I don’t want you looking at me with resentment.”
He took a breath to speak, but I placed my finger on his lips to
stop him. “I know what you are going to say, and trust me, you
will. I know because after having, Olivia, I wanted another child.
Phil didn’t. I felt that resentment every day. I never want to be
in another relationship like that again.” I could see the tears
welling in his eyes. “Guy, what are we going to do?”
    He pulled me back down, my head in the crook
of his neck, his hands softly rubbing my arms. “For now we will
just hold each other.”
    * * * *
    Three weeks passed. For the first week after
Guy left I never moved off the sofa. It sounds silly, I know. After
all, it was me that had ended it. Even so, the feelings of loss
seemed to overwhelm me.
    I rang in sick to work, claiming a bad bout
of the flu. By my hoarse voice I was more than convincing. I lay
there crying, wearing a sweater of Guy’s that he had left in the
cupboard, a blanket of Kleenex covering me.
    Olivia couldn’t understand Guy’s departure,
and to be honest, neither could I. I’d thrown away the best thing
that had happened in my life. But no matter how hard I tried to
assure myself I’d done the right thing in asking him to leave, I
felt as though my whole life had fallen apart.
    Eleanor had not spoken to me for a week. She
said I was clearly out of my head. Jess seemed even more upset than
me if it was truly possible. I had written the completely wrong
ending to her love story. Mum called around every day with chicken
soup that I never ate, her not once, saying, “I told you so.”
    Dad would do the evening shift, never
commenting, until the end of the first week. “I popped in to see
Guy today. He’s really cut up about all of this, Clare. He’s taking
a week off. He says he has to get away and clear his head.” I
rolled over on the sofa, wondering how he could possibly be that
cut up if he was planning to go on holiday. He hadn’t even tried to
call.
    The second week I went back to work. It was
hard, but knowing that Guy would not be there made it a damn sight
easier. Come the third week, it started with an awful shift at the
hospital. Four nurses had genuinely called in sick with the flu
that had passed through the hospital staff like the plague. One
other also rang in sick, but we all knew she had been trying to
change her shift. She wanted to see one of her many grandchildren
say one word at some charity show. The agency we used, due to the
epidemic, could not offer us any temporary staff which didn't ease
the tension. That tonight of all nights every