Читать книгу: «Found: His Family»

CHAPTER ONE

AIMEE PAYET loved chocolate.

She loved savouring the melt-in-your-mouth texture on her tongue, drinking its delicious sweetness and kneading the sticky bits of heaven with her nimble fingers as she produced yet another masterpiece for Payet’s Patisserie, the cake shop she’d successfully managed for the last two years since her parents’ death.

Today, however, even chocolate couldn’t ease the deep sense of impending doom that hung over her like a storm cloud about to dump its deluge in a catastrophic downpour.

She glanced at her watch, the same action she’d done every few minutes for the last hour, her stomach churning as closing time grew nearer. Jed had left a message saying he’d be here at six, and if he hadn’t changed since she’d last seen him, he’d be here on the dot.

And her world would come crashing down around her.

‘Aimee?’

The moment he said her name, the last five years rolled away, his deep voice washing over her in a familiarity which took her breath away.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d dealt with her feelings, moved on, created a life for her and Toby. A life that didn’t included Jed Sanderson, her first love, her past love. A life where they didn’t need him. Until now.

Pasting a forced smile on her face while her insides churned with dread at what she had to tell him, she turned to face him. ‘Hi, Jed. Thanks for coming.’

The words sounded small, soft, as if she were hearing them through the wall of thick fog that occasionally rolled off Port Phillip Bay and shrouded Melbourne in its pea-soup density.

‘Are you all right?’

No, she wanted to scream. Nothing’s all right and, after I tell you the truth, nothing ever will be again.

Focusing her attention with effort, she saw the concern in his light brown eyes.

Eyes the colour of warm caramel.

Eyes that had captivated her from the first minute she’d seen them all those years ago.

Eyes that would soon fill with anger and pain when she told him about Toby. And what she wanted from him.

‘I’ve been better,’ she finally admitted, fiddling with the cash register, dropping her gaze to her fingernails, which were chewed to the quick courtesy of the earth-shattering news she’d received about Toby two days ago.

‘Look, why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a drink?’

Before she could blink, he had scouted around the counter, taken gentle hold of her arm and was leading her to a corner table.

‘You don’t understand…’she started to say, shrugging off his hold while biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying. ‘I need to close up before we talk.’

‘Let me.’

He strode to the door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and turned the lock. The soft clunk of metal on metal resounded in her head as she suddenly realised her predicament: she was locked in her shop with Jed, the guy who’d broken her heart. The guy she’d never wanted to see again as long as she lived. The guy who’d fathered her son.

People streamed past the floor-to-ceiling glass windows as they bustled along Acland Street, St Kilda’s busiest thoroughfare any time of day or night, and she stared at them in anger, wishing she could be like them, without a care in the world. Jed had been her past and now, thanks to a cruel twist of fate, he could become her present.

‘I was surprised to hear from you after all this time,’ he said, leaning against the counter and looking way too handsome in his pinstripe designer suit, pale green shirt and matching tie, his dark hair curling around his collar the way it used to. ‘An Express Post letter seemed a bit formal. You could’ve called if it was that urgent.’

No, she couldn’t. Holding herself together following the doctor’s appointment had been hard enough without hearing Jed’s voice, hearing the judgement and censure when she told him the truth, a truth that would blow him away.

‘No, I needed to see you. The phone wouldn’t cut it for this.’

‘I’m intrigued.’

He smiled, a simple action which illuminated his eyes with warmth. Similar to the reaction his light grip had on her as he guided her to the table, infusing her with a reassuring heat she hadn’t felt since she’d last hugged her dad.

Dad…Mum…I wish you were here. I need you so much; Toby needs you so much.

How many times had she sent this silent plea heavenward over the last two years since her parents had unexpectedly died in a freak storm? Too many times to count and, once again, it went unheralded.

If her parents were around, she wouldn’t be about to have this conversation with a man she’d never intended to see again. They could’ve been tested as donors, the odds in favour that one of them would’ve been compatible and everything would’ve been OK.

Instead she’d been forced to contact Jed out of sheer desperation and, now he was here, she still had no idea if he would help her. She’d thought she’d known him inside and out at one stage.

She’d been wrong.

‘Before you pass out on me, how about I get you a coffee? Then we can have this talk that’s making you look like you’ve got a story and a half to tell me.’

She shook her head, finding the experience of being waited on by Jed in her own shop strangely surreal.

‘If anyone needs a hit of caffeine, you do,’ he said, his astute gaze sweeping over her as if he expected her to faint at his feet any second.

‘That would be great,’ she said, too tired to resist, too worried to argue.

Besides, he was right. She needed a jolt to jumpstart her brain, which had partially shut down since she’d seen the doctor and he’d delivered his mind-numbing news in a soul-destroying, terrifying week.

‘Mind if I have one? I could use a caffeine boost myself.’

‘Of course! I’m sorry, my mind is elsewhere.’

‘Don’t apologise. Flat white OK?’

She nodded and watched him handle the espresso machine like a pro. Dressed like that, she could imagine him with an army of subordinates serving him any type of coffee he chose any time of the day yet here he was, looking at home in the cosy space behind the counter of Payet’s Patisserie. Surreal didn’t come close to describing this bizarre encounter and it was about to get worse. A whole lot worse.

‘Help yourself to any cake you like,’ she said, knowing she should get up and do it herself but finding the lethargy that had invaded her body the last few days had spread now that she’d finally sat down.

Stopping wasn’t a good thing. Keeping busy was the key. The key to coping. To not focusing on the past. To not thinking about the future. It was how she’d survived the last few days, how she’d struggled to mend her broken heart after leaving Jed, how she’d raised Toby, how she’d always been the strong one in her family.

A family which had been decimated by tragedy, a family now consisting of Toby and her. And Jed, if he came through for them.

Yet right now, as strong as she tried to be, it felt good to let someone else take charge for a change, even if that someone was the last man on earth she would’ve approached, given a choice.

‘Thanks, but I’m watching my weight.’

He patted his waistline after placing two steaming coffees in front of them and smiled, a small, self-deprecating smile, and for the first time since Toby’s diagnosis she found herself responding.

The slight upturning of her lips at the corners felt foreign, like muscles stretching after the first Pilates class she’d ever taken, yet it felt good at the same time. Who would’ve thought Jed could actually make her smile again after what they’d been through, what they’d said to each other at the end?

However, her smile vanished as quickly as it had come. What was she thinking? Toby was dying and she was wasting time trading smiles with Jed. She needed to get on with things, with convincing him to help. Her momentary lapse had to be anxiety, a purely nervous reaction to a life-threatening situation and the role Jed would play. She hoped.

‘Ready to talk?’

Nodding, she took a quick gulp of coffee which scalded her tongue. Good, it might take the edge off her urge to bawl on his broad shoulders.

‘Whatever it is, it must be pretty bad for you to approach me after all this time.’

Cradling the hot mug in her hand, she peered at him over the rim, liking the changes the years had wrought. The smattering of grey in his black hair, the fine lines radiating from the corners of his striking eyes adding a seriousness to the boyish face which had once charmed her into loving him.

Though she’d dated through uni and been serious with one guy for about eight months, the minute she’d set foot on Dunk Island, walked into the restaurant for her first real job since graduating top of her French-pastry class and spied Jed she’d fallen. Hard.

They’d created magic together before her dreams deflated like a saggy soufflé.

Banishing her useless memories, she said, ‘I need your help.’

She had to keep it simple, short, straightforward. Lay the facts out before him, state her case, appeal to his better side, the side she knew he had despite how he’d pushed her away all those years ago.

‘With what?’ He paused, fixing her with the soul-searching stare only he did so well, his confident grin grating on her thinly stretched nerves. ‘You know I’m a supportive kind of guy.’

‘Yeah, right. Like the way you supported me right out of our relationship?’

Where had that come from? Why did she sound so accusatory, so annoyed, as though she still cared?

Shutters descended over his eyes in an instant, blocking out the warmth, shutting her out as he always had when he didn’t want to give her answers.

‘You wanted something I couldn’t give you back then.’

‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’

‘It’s not important.’ His lips set in a thin, stubborn line just the way they had used to and the familiar action ignited an old grudge that had been simmering for a few years.

‘Not important? I guess you would see it like that.’

He shook his head, anger tightening his features into hard angles. ‘Is this why you dragged me to Melbourne? To beat me up over something that happened five years ago? That finished five years ago?’

‘No, there’s something else.’

Suddenly she deflated, annoyed that she’d let him get to her like that. What had happened between them was over and had been for a long time. She’d dealt with it; she’d moved on. Why dredge up the past when it would only be detrimental to her cause? She needed to get him onside, not offensive.

‘Tell me.’

Swallowing the painful lump lodged in her throat, she raised her eyes to his, seeing a wary curiosity there as if he half expected another verbal spray.

‘My son’s ill,’ she blurted, blinking back tears at the injustice.

If anyone had to get sick, why couldn’t it be her? She was strong; she could handle it. She’d handled losing Jed, losing her parents. She was tough; she could take it. But Toby…he had his whole life in front of him. Her precious little boy had just turned five, would start school soon, had enrolled in a little athletics programme and had a zest for life that left her breathless and laughing most days.

Though the minute he’d turned lethargic, pale, with unexplained ugly bruises on his spindly arms and legs, she’d known. Something was dreadfully wrong and a visit to the doctor and a few blood tests had confirmed it.

Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. The kind of disease that killed, the kind of disease her cheeky, gorgeous boy had no right contracting.

‘You have a son?’ A dark eyebrow shot up, lending him a weirdly comical look when there was nothing remotely funny about their situation.

Your son, she needed to say but instead she took another gulp of coffee, postponing the inevitable for another few seconds while furiously marshalling her thoughts.

How should she tell him? Straight out or work up to it? She’d mentally rehearsed this speech a hundred times in her head since he’d responded to her urgent plea, yet now her mouth couldn’t form the words.

‘He’s a lovely little boy.’ Tall like you, and those soft brown eyes exactly like yours. ‘He’s just been diagnosed with leukaemia.’ She waved her hand around in a vague gesture, wondering if he’d get it.

By the compassionate expression on his handsome face, he did.

‘I’m sorry. How awful for you.’

He reached towards her as if to place his hand over hers and she scuttled back like a scared mouse, her earlier misgivings about being locked up with him resurfacing. If seeing him again had packed a power-punch, having him touch her to offer comfort had the potential to undo her completely.

He didn’t say a word though she saw surprise flicker in the depths of his eyes and regret stabbed her at how far apart they’d grown. They’d been the invincible couple, the couple that everyone made gagging sounds about over their mushiness, the couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They were the forever couple.

But, as she’d found out the hard way, nothing lasted forever.

Taking a deep breath, she launched down the path of no return. ‘Toby needs a bone-marrow transplant and I’m not compatible.’

‘Hell.’ He ran a hand through his hair, sending dark spikes shooting in every direction. ‘You need my help? Is it money? Do you need to start a donor search? Fund-raising? I can get the TV station to help. I can—’

‘I need you to be tested.’

There, she’d said it, though her voice came out on a soft squeak that had Jed sitting forward to hear it.

‘Me? But I’m not family…’ He trailed off, a flicker of comprehension flashing across his face in a microsecond before he continued in a cold, dull monotone. ‘How old is Toby?’

‘Five.’

She tilted her head up, meeting his dazed stare directly, not ashamed of the choices she’d made.

If Jed hadn’t wanted marriage back then, how would he have handled fatherhood? Dads were reliable, stable, rock-like types you could depend on, the type of amazing, supportive man she’d been lucky enough to have for a dad, not guys who couldn’t come clean to their girlfriends let alone enter a life-long commitment.

Whichever way she looked at it, she’d made the right choice in not telling Jed when she’d discovered her pregnancy. He’d moved on and so had she. He’d become Australia’s sexiest TV chef; she had a successful career, a booming business and a son she wouldn’t trade for all the tortes in Vienna. Toby was happy. She was happy. And then God had had to go and pull the rug out from under them.

‘Five.’ He repeated the number in a flat drone as if not quite comprehending the maths. ‘But that would mean—’

‘He’s yours.’

She sagged back against the seat, wrapping her arms around her middle in a purely protective gesture against the warring emotions flashing across Jed’s expressive face.

Disbelief, shock and confusion turned his eyes to molten caramel while he flushed beneath his tan.

‘What?’

‘Toby is your son,’ she repeated, finally giving in to the tears that had threatened since the minute she’d laid eyes on Jed again.

‘My son,’ he said softly, as if trying the words on for size, before the anger she’d been expecting erupted to the surface in a hot, fierce explosion. ‘My son? What the hell is going on here?’