Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop. Kellie HailesЧитать онлайн книгу.
after, usually while snuggled up on the outdoor loveseat at their Malibu home, the waves beyond crashing onto the golden sand.
‘I can see by those rosy cheeks of yours, Serena, that you haven’t forgotten. You dared me to go skinny dipping in the ocean, so we did.’
Serena met Ritchie’s gaze. Held it. She could go down memory lane one last time if it meant proving her point. ‘And then you challenged me to a swimming race. First to stop would have to give the other a full body massage each night for the rest of the holiday’
‘And we swam and swam to what felt like the end of the horizon, then realised we were too tired to swim back.’ Ritchie inched closer to her. ‘Thank God that fishing charter passed by, or we would have been fish food.’
Serena forced herself to turn away, to not engage. To keep the moment light, to stop it turning intimate. ‘Which I still think would have been preferable to being hauled out of the water naked as the day I was born in front of a boat load of tourists.’
‘We gave them the ultimate holiday story. A goggle at our goodies felt like a fair trade for them saving our lives.’ Ritchie turned back towards the cows and began cleaning and cupping the last in line for milking.
‘It was a good time, Ritchie. There’s no denying that.’ And it had been good. One of many amazing moments they’d shared. But moments didn’t change a person’s personality.
‘It was a great time. But a decade of great times wasn’t enough to keep us together…’
‘That’s because my leaving had nothing to do with the lack of good times.’ Serena gritted her teeth. It was time to be as straight up as she could. Her decision to leave Ritchie had been of the snap variety, but the events that had led her there had been a long time coming. ‘My leaving had to do with me finding my way, finding myself. When we first met I was a girl looking for adventure, excitement, passion. All the things I believed I’d never find in Rabbits Leap. Despite Mum’s belief that I was born to be a farmer I knew that wasn’t the case. I like cows, but I’m not passionate about them. Anyway, I’d promised my parents I’d return home after my education was over, but in my heart I knew I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to be happy. Yet with every passing month at university I could see that fate closing in around me.’
Ritchie’s head jerked back. ‘Are you saying you used me to ensure you didn’t have to return home? Is that all our relationship was to you? A way out?’ His face stilled. Became devoid of emotion. As it always did when they were on rocky ground.
‘I know you’re only saying that because you’re hurt.’ Serena kept her calm. There was no point aggravating the situation further. She walked back to the front of the line, Ritchie in her wake. ‘Once the milk flow has stopped the cluster will automatically drop off. Then you’ll need to dip each of the teats with this.’ She held up a tube filled with liquid and demonstrated dipping. ‘It helps keep bacteria at bay.’ She stepped back and motioned to Ritchie to go through the rest of the herd, copying what she’d done, after the udders had emptied. ‘Our relationship was never a way out, Ritchie. I thought it was a way forward. I thought we were building this incredible life together, but I don’t know, over time it felt that all we were building was a wall that separated us.
Ritchie’s jaw tightened. His chest stilled. Did he know what she was talking about? Had he felt the wall too? That excitement she’d mistaken for emotional connection had devolved over time. Morphed into her being at Ritchie’s beck and call, doing as he wanted, when he wanted. And when she brought up anything she thought would be good for them – or her – seeing family, the possibility of children, her not touring… he’d shut down. Turned off. And away. Each episode lasting longer than before. The silence stretching from hours into days.
And she was the one who broke first. Always. Melting the ice by ordering in his favourite foods. Inviting his band mates over for a party. Buying lingerie with the aim of certain seduction. Always hoping the latest icy episode would be the last. That he’d chill out. Open up. Until one day, one phone call, their last, had made her realise how futile it was to expect someone to change when they didn’t want to. That the only person who could create change was herself. And so she had.
‘What I don’t get, Serena…’ The words rasped from his lips. Low. Controlled. Tight. ‘What I don’t understand… is how you could have loved me only months ago and now all you want to do is push me away? You talk about a wall, but from my perspective you’re the one building it. Hell, you won’t even let me stay under the same roof as you. You’ve got me staying at your parents and you know how I feel about family.’
‘No, that’s the thing. I don’t.’ Serena ignored the thump of her heart against her ribcage, didn’t allow her pitch to heighten, her frustration to show. She wasn’t that person anymore. The one to break. The one to get upset in the face of rigid composure. ‘I know you don’t do families. You said yours don’t get on. But you won’t say why. I don’t know how I managed to spend a decade with you and yet in so many ways you’re still a stranger.’ Serena took a step back, her hands curled into fists, nails piercing flesh, keeping her in control. ‘Anyway, what kind of reception were you hoping for, Ritchie? I asked to be left alone and you came for me. I don’t want to work on the farm but because you’re here, inserting your will, I’ve lost a good chunk of time showing you the ropes, hours that would be better spent putting the finishing touches on my shop. And what really gets me, irritates me, is that even when I don’t want my whole life to revolve around you, you make it so it does.’ Serena dropped her gaze to the ground. ‘God, and you have no idea how much it hurts to have you here.’ The words she’d meant to stay on the inside came out a whisper.
She tried to sidestep around Ritchie, but he moved with her, blocking her.
‘You’re the one who’s hurt? Really?’ His voice was eerily calm, almost peaceful. At odds with the emotions radiating from him. Hurt. Anger. Sadness. ‘One minute you think you’re happy, content. Hell, you’d go so far as to say your life is perfect. Everything you could have hoped for and more. The next, poof, your world is in turmoil. Your nights are spent alone, awake, tossing and turning and wishing the person you love most was there to draw towards you, to become one with you. Then your days… Your days are hollow, so you try to fill them with anything you think might bring you a measure of the happiness that the person who’s left brought you, but you can’t. Because without that person you lose your will to be anything, anyone.’ He paused. His brow furrowed, his gaze penetrating, as if he was willing her to see his side of things.
Serena exhaled. What a mess. ‘Well then, I guess you do have an inkling of what it was like to be me.’
The impatient bellow of a milk-full cow broke through the nerve-crackling tension.
‘Look, Ritchie, let’s just finish milking the girls and, I don’t know… you can stay. You can go. It’s up to you. It’s your life. The only thing I know is that it’s time I lived mine.’ Serena strode to the end of the parlour, opened the gate so the cows could leave, and pretended to check them over one more time, keeping her face out of view, not wanting Ritchie to see the solitary tear that trickled down her cheek.
Ritchie stared at his notebook. The page stark white. Empty of his usual ideas for songs, lyrics, album themes or title ideas. The page was as desolate as his heart. He’d hoped seeing Serena would be enough to get his creative juices again, but it appeared he was juiced out. Being around Serena wasn’t enough, he had to get her back. But how did you get a woman who didn’t want to be got?
It was about as easy as writing a song that refused to be written.
‘Oh. You’re here.’
Ritchie glanced up to see Marjorie hovering at the kitchen door.
‘Sorry. Do you want me to go? I can go for a walk. Go to my room…’ Ritchie knew Marjorie wasn’t his biggest fan. Not that he blamed