The Light Over London(81)

“He drove drunk to pick you up to take you to the bedside of your parents who had been hit by a drunk driver?” Liam asked incredulously.

“Yes. I ended up having to call Nicole to drive me to Cumbria. I wouldn’t have been safe on the road. I got to the hospital thirty minutes after Mum died on the operating table. Dad died shortly after I got the call.”

“And because you were delayed in going up there—”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to Mum. I knew I was never going to be able to forgive him for that. He fought the divorce for about a month, but then he was arrested for drunk driving himself. It was what eventually got him into rehab.”

“And now?”

“He’s stopped drinking, but he refuses to go to a program for his gambling addiction. He stayed away from the casinos for a few months after I filed for divorce, but then he relapsed. I don’t know if he’s still playing private games.

“It was a process working through the guilt of leaving, because he wasn’t a healthy man, but I couldn’t do it any longer. I realized I didn’t love him anymore. I ended up telling my solicitor that I’d pay off the more than three hundred and fifty thousand pounds in debt he’d accrued.”

Liam gave a low whistle.

“It wiped out almost everything I had in savings, but I paid it because I had Mum and Dad’s house to sell and I thought the settlement would make it better.”

“It didn’t, did it?” he asked.

She laughed. “Of course not. It just made all of the feelings more complicated. I finally found a therapist when Nicole put her foot down and told me it was time.”

Liam’s hand came over hers on the table.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened,” he said.

She lifted her head and smiled. “Not many people get a second chance at building the life they want.”

But looking across the table, she knew there was one area in her life that was missing, and that Liam could be right at the heart of it.

But before she could say anything else, their starters arrived and the conversation slipped back into easier territory.



Full and a little sleepy from the wine, Cara and Liam made their way up to their floor, leaning against the mirrored wall of the lift.

“I think I’m going to be dreaming of that chocolate cake for the rest of my life,” she said.

“The tart was good too,” he said.

“That was definitely a chocolate meal. No sense in wasting precious dessert time on a bit of apple and custard.”

He nudged her playfully. “You bake things. You should be more respectful of my tart.”

She arched a skeptical brow, and he snorted as the doors slid open.

They spilled out of the lift, Cara tucked into Liam’s side as he walked her back to their adjoining rooms.

“We’re meeting Laurel at Kate’s care home at eleven tomorrow?” Liam asked.

“That’s right.”

“Do you want to have breakfast together? I thought it might be good to see the Haybourne high street beforehand.”

“That sounds like a plan,” she said.

He rounded to face her as they stopped in front of her door and tilted his head in an unspoken question. She dropped her attention to her wristlet as she wrestled her key out, grateful for the moment to compose herself. When she looked up again, Liam’s expression had changed from easy to serious.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Cara, I’m going to say a few things, and I want you to listen.”

“Okay . . .”

He grazed the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist and traced down to touch fingertip to fingertip. “You deserve to never be disappointed, and you deserve to be with someone who doesn’t make you feel like your choices aren’t the right ones.”

A lump of emotion formed in her throat. “Liam—”

“And this is the most important thing: if I had been with you, I would’ve never taken you for granted no matter what was going on in my life.”

They were simple words, yet they unlocked something deep inside her. The last piece of the puzzle. The little push she’d needed to once again feel whole again. She trusted this man implicitly, and she trusted herself to know what he could mean to her.

Slowly, he drew her closer to him, inch by inch, until their bodies were nearly touching. Then, he dipped his head and kissed her.

His lips were soft and patient against hers, but she knew that one sign from her would be enough permission for him to let loose all of his restraint. It was what she wanted that night. This man was it.

“Liam,” she whispered, breaking away just as the kiss began to deepen.

“Yes?”

“Come with me.”

And she unlocked her hotel room door and drew him inside.





22


LOUISE


Louise lay in bed for three days, hardly noticing the passage of time. Occasionally one of the girls from B Section would come in with water or tea, coaxing her to drink. She did numbly, but she refused every bit of food they brought.

There was no talk of her going back on duty. Vera or Charlie must’ve taken care of informing their superior officers that Paul was dead, but no one spoke to her about bereavement leave or reprimanded her for not being on the gun. They let her mourn, privately and deeply.