Sensible and measured and reliable: that was Grace. Though he wondered what would’ve happened if she’d let herself have the chance to work with the more abstract branches of mathematics—how far she would’ve soared.
‘And that’s where you met Howard, when you were training?’
She shook her head. ‘I qualified in a different firm, then moved to Sutton’s because there was an opportunity for promotion. I never expected to fall for the boss’s son, but we worked together on an audit when I’d been there for six months and he asked me out.’
Roland had the feeling that Grace had concentrated on her studies rather than on partying. He wouldn’t be surprised if Howard had been her first serious boyfriend.
‘And you liked him?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘He was sweet and kind—and I guess I was a bit naive because I thought that his parents would eventually warm to me. I’m not a gold-digger.’
‘Of course you’re not,’ he said. But clearly Howard’s parents had treated her as if she was. It made Roland understand where her insistence on being independent and doing her fair share came from. Clearly she’d had to prove herself over and over and over again. But why hadn’t her ex stood up for her? And why had it taken her so long to realise that she was worth more than the way his family treated her?
‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘How did you meet Lynette?’
‘We worked together,’ he said. ‘I was an architect and she was a PA at the practice. We danced together at an office Christmas party, and that was it.’
‘So you knew straight away that she was The One?’
‘I guess.’ He nodded. ‘We moved in together fairly quickly, but she insisted on a long engagement when I asked her to marry me.’
‘But not four years?’ Grace asked wryly.
Roland smiled. ‘Just one. And that was long enough. Though I guess she was right; it gave us time to get to know each other properly and be really sure we were doing the right thing. And we were happy.’ Until that last year of their marriage, when Lyn’s friends all seemed to fall pregnant the very first month they started trying, while he had to comfort his wife every month when her period arrived. The doctors had all said they were young and it was too early to think about fertility treatment, and advised them both just to relax and keep trying; but sex in those last six months had been all about making a baby and not at all about expressing their love for each other. Lyn had charts and ovulation kits everywhere, and every time they’d made love it had been carefully timed rather than simply because they wanted each other.
Roland had started taking every opportunity to work away, or to give a paper at a conference, just to take the pressure off and make him feel less like a machine. And that was why he’d bought the house at the maltings—something that would take over his head completely. Something he could escape to.
Not that he’d told anyone about it. Not his family and not his closest friends. How could he tell them that he’d felt a failure as a husband, that he’d let Lyn down every single month?
And the cruellest irony of all had been when the doctor at the hospital had told him...
He dragged in a breath. Not now. He wasn’t going to think of that now.
She laid her hand against his cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Roland. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories for you.’
Yeah. They must’ve shown on his face. But he didn’t have the words to tell anyone about the worst bit. He hadn’t even told Lyn’s parents. Which made him a seriously bad person, because he really shouldn’t have kept it from them. Or maybe it had been kinder not to tell them. ‘It’s OK. But I could do with changing the subject,’ he admitted. He still found it hard to handle the guilt. Although he knew it wasn’t his fault that the drunken driver had crashed into Lyn’s car, and it was entirely possible that the crash could’ve happened even if he’d been at home, he still couldn’t forgive himself for not being there at the end—or handle that last, unkindest cut of all.
‘Let’s go and look round a bit more,’ she said.
And funny how comforting he found it when her hand curled round his as they walked round the site. She didn’t push him to talk; she was just there, offering quiet support and kindness.
If he wanted to make this thing between them real, he’d have to tell her the truth. All of it. Including the stuff he didn’t let himself think about. He didn’t think she’d pity him, and she definitely wouldn’t judge him. But he still wasn’t ready to talk, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. Maybe brushing up his dating skills was a bad idea. Or maybe he’d work out some way to move things forward between them without opening up that world of hurt.