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The older woman had shaken her head. ‘Not at all. It’s good you are here.’
Sadie had bitten her lip, and then blurted out, ‘Thank you...you have no idea how much that means to me.’
Lena had taken Sadie’s hand in hers and said, ‘Some women are capable of walking away from a child, but I don’t think you are. I’m sure you had a good reason to do what you did.’
Surprise at hearing her confirm that she did know that she was Sol’s mother and at her words had taken Sadie’s breath, and by the time she’d felt remotely able to respond Sol had returned and Lena had disappeared with a small wink.
Sadie said, ‘Thank you,’ again to Roberto, and left the house, walking back down through the garden to the guesthouse. She’d only been here for a couple of days, but the place already felt more like home than anywhere else she’d been.
Except for Sao Sebastiao.
Her and Quin’s beach paradise.
She’d never wanted to leave. She hadn’t even wanted to go into Sao Paulo to give birth. But Quin had insisted, strangely paranoid about the risks of childbirth.
It was only in the last four years that Sadie had realised that maybe on some level, in spite of her memory loss, she’d known that it would be inherently dangerous to go out of their cocooned existence at the beach and into a big city. Maybe going into the city had been the thing that had precipitated her memory return, and then Sol’s birth had brought it back completely?
She was inside the guesthouse now, and she set up a place for herself at the dining table and tried not to look towards the trees, where the lights of the big house were just visible. She’d spent too many days and evenings walking around towns and cities in the last four years, glimpsing scenes of families together, and she wasn’t going to allow herself to wallow in that self-pity again. She was free, and she was here—near to her son.
She pushed down the rising panic at the thought that she might always exist like this, on the margins of their lives. It was enough. It would have to be.
But a couple of hours later Sadie couldn’t settle. She’d tried watching TV, but couldn’t understand Portuguese. She’d tried reading, but had thrown the book down when she’d realised she’d read the same paragraph ten times without understanding a word.
It was rising within her. The need to tell Quin what had happened. He had to know.Now.The lights were still on in the house, visible through the trees. Yet she felt reluctant to go up there—especially as Quin hadn’t appeared to invite her to join them.
Or to make love to you again, whispered a little voice.
Sadie cursed herself. That had been an incendiary moment, borne out of their tangled past and chemistry. An anomaly.
But in spite of her reluctance and misgivings, she pulled a light cardigan over her T-shirt and left the guesthouse.
All was quiet when she reached the house. No sign of anyone. She guessed Roberto and Lena would have gone home. Sol must be in bed. Maybe Quin was in bed too?
But then she heard a noise coming from the area where his office was situated and followed the sound. The door was partially open and light spilled out. Her heart thumped. She curbed the urge to turn and run. It was time to do this.
She knocked lightly on the door.
Quin’s voice came. ‘Sol? I told you that it’s too late for—’
The words stopped when he opened the door and saw Sadie.
‘Not Sol. It’s me.’
He just looked at her for a long moment. ‘Why didn’t you come to dinner?’
She pushed aside the lingering feeling of loneliness. It was ridiculous,she’dmade that decision to eat alone. In four years she’d not succumbed to self—pity and she wasn’t about to start.
‘I thought you’d appreciate time with Sol because he was away last night.’
And they’d made love. Heat threatened to rise at the memory. But then Sadie went cold inside as she wondered if she was so desperate for him to touch her again thatthiswas the reason she’d come up here looking for him, not because she wanted to unburden herself about why she’d left.
He said, ‘You would have been welcome.’ Then he frowned. ‘Is everything okay?’
Sadie swallowed. Whatever her reasons for coming here, there was only one thing she really needed to do right now. ‘I think we need to talk about what happened.’
Quin’s expression turned to stone. ‘That was a mistake. It won’t happen again.’
Now Sadie frowned, confused. And then she realised what he was referring to. Last night. The recent past—notthepast. A pain lanced her heart. Well, if she’d been in any doubt about how he felt about it, she wasn’t now.