Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) (18 page)

They went out and Koru locked the shop. Cam
turned to Dex, anger written all over his face. “You’d best stay here,” he
said. “We’ll go home and try to sort things out.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I think it best if—”

“I’m coming with you,” Dex said again.
“It’s my fiancée and it’s my ex who’s upset her. I need to get this sorted.”

Cam stared him, then nodded.

“I’ll go in my car and meet you there.” Dex
walked off.

He’d never known a journey to take so long
in his life. All the way to
Stormwind
, his heart pounded and he felt
close to throwing up. What had Cathryn said to her? She would have told Honey
about the kiss, obviously. Was that all, or had she said other cruel things?

He pounded the steering wheel, nearly
veering off the road in the process—not good when he was driving a cop car
still in uniform. But at that moment, he could happily have taken Cathryn’s
neck in his hands and squeezed until she stopped breathing. Hatred welled
inside him, clear and pure.
She’s ill
, people had said to him at the
time,
not quite right in the head. You should feel sorry for her.

Like fuck he should. He was done feeling
sorry.

He shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on
Cathryn now. His first priority had to be Honey, and how to put things right
with her.

He refused to accept that he couldn’t put
things right. Somehow, he’d make her understand how much he loved her.

Eventually, after what seemed like forever,
he pulled up at the house. Cam and Koru slid into the parking spot beside him. Lily’s
car sat in the drive next to Honey’s. Honey’s car had a smashed windscreen. Dex
swallowed, hoping she hadn’t been hurt.

They got out and ran into the house. Lily
stood in the centre of the living room. Always pale, now she looked as white as
a sheet of paper, her eyes wide with worry as her father and brother walked in.

“Where is she?” Dex demanded as he came in
behind them.

Lily’s gaze slid to him and her eyes
narrowed. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Where is she?” Cam echoed.

“She’s locked herself in the downstairs
bathroom.”

Dex twitched to walk there but Koru grabbed
his arm. “Just wait a minute.”

Cam went out of the room and along the
corridor. Dex heard him knock on the door.

“Honey?” Cam called. “It’s Dad.”

Dex could just hear her murmur something.

“I’m not going away. Come out please, we
need to talk.”

Another murmur.

“Come out and talk like a grown up, please.
Koru’s here and so’s Dex.”

This time there was no murmur. Dex walked
slowly to the doorway and looked along the corridor to where Cam leaned against
the doorjamb.

“Come on, sweetheart, come out.” Cam folded
his arms, head bowed. “Nothing’s happened that we can’t get over together.”

“Leave me alone.” This time Dex heard her
words.

“Dex is here and he wants to see you,” Cam
said. “He loves you, sweetheart, and he’s sorry.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

Dex closed his eyes.

“Honey, come on,” Cam urged. “You’re not
twelve anymore. Come out.”

“I want some time to myself. Just go away.”

“Please come out and just talk to Dex. He’s
your fiancé and you’re getting married on Saturday—you need to talk to him.”

Honey murmured something that Dex didn’t
catch. Cam sighed and looked over at him.

“What did she say?” Dex asked.

“She said ‘The wedding’s off.’”

Honey could hear her father talking to Dex
along the corridor. She knew Dex would try to talk to her and convince her to
come out. Couldn’t they see she wanted some time alone? She needed to think, to
work through the tangled wool of her brain and get things clear.

Pushing herself to her feet, she stood on
the toilet seat and opened the bathroom window. Luckily she was wearing trousers.
She pulled herself up and over the ledge, held onto the palm tree outside the
window and managed to manoeuvre herself down onto the grass. It would take them
a while to figure out she wasn’t in there.

She ran soundlessly across the lawn behind
the house to the copse of trees at the bottom, then followed the river to the
bush forming the Waitangi Forest that lay at the foot of their property. The
palms and ferns closed around her, welcoming her into their quiet world,
enveloping her in the fresh, earthy smell of nature.

For a while she just walked, staying close
to the river so she didn’t get lost, accompanied by flittering fantails hopping
from tree to tree, tui birds calling from the high palms, and once even a weta,
the huge cricket-like insect—big as her hand—waving its long antennae at her as
she passed.

Eventually, she reached the waterfall that
tumbled over the rocks, the water dark green in the fading light. There she
sank down with her back against a palm and waited for the expected rush of emotion
to overtake her.

Strangely, though, the tears didn’t come.
Instead, all she felt was a kind of dull acceptance. She’d gone through the
five stages of grief, she thought absently—she’d tried to deny it to herself.
Grown angry that Dex had told Cathryn intimate details about their relationship.
Tried to come to a compromise in her head once she realised it was the
truth—maybe it didn’t matter, they could still get over it. Got depressed when
she knew that wasn’t going to happen. And now there was nothing to do but come
to terms with the fact that the marriage wasn’t going take place. She’d lost
him, or he’d lost her. Whichever, they were done.

Maybe I’m not supposed to be happy
, she thought. Maybe Fate didn’t have happy families and babies in
store for her. She crossed her arms over her stomach and hugged herself
tightly, trying to accept that, but the deep longing inside her wouldn’t go
away. She was only twenty-five, but the maternal urge had risen strongly in her
since she’d met Dex. Yes, of course, she wanted him desperately, but she also
wanted the whole package—hearth and home, and children—lots of them. They’d
spoken about it, and Dex had been happy to agree to the idea of a large family.
And now she’d lost everything.

She pulled her legs close to her, wrapped
her arms around them and rested her chin on her knees. Of course, there was
every chance she’d meet someone else. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that
Dex had been her one chance at happiness.

In the pocket of her pants, her mobile
buzzed. She’d forgotten she still had it on her. She’d put it on silent while
in the courthouse and hadn’t yet switched it back.

She took it out and examined the text. It
was from her father. They must have realised she’d climbed out of the window.

 
Just let me know you’re safe.

 Her throat tightened. Cam worried so about
her. He probably thought she was hanging from a tree somewhere. She texted
back,
I’m fine. Need time to think. Back later.
Then she switched the
phone off.

The forest was beginning to darken as the
sun set, but the moon was just off full and would give enough light to see by.
Honey wasn’t worried. In England she’d often gone walking in the dark in the
nearby forest, and the creatures of the bush didn’t frighten her. She rather
hoped she’d see a kiwi bird. She’d been to Auckland Zoo and peered into the
little houses at them, but she’d not yet seen one in the wild.

The bush rustled a few feet from her and
she turned her head tiredly to see what had made the noise. It was a possum,
round and furry and cute, its eyes wide and shining in the semi-darkness. It
studied her for a moment and then bounded away into the undergrowth.

She closed her eyes. What would she say to
Dex when she saw him? And what would he say to her? Would he be apologetic?
Angry? Would he cry? She thought she might slap him, too, if he did that. Would
he be impatient that she was making such a fuss? Ian would have been. Would
have turned it on her, made her feel it was all her fault, that she was
overreacting, being too emotional. In the end, she would have been the one to
apologise, her head spinning as she wondered how that could possibly have
happened.

The bush rustled again to her left. Louder
this time. Feet scrunched on twigs and leaves. She sighed and opened her eyes,
wondering who’d found her and wishing they’d leave her alone. Then the ferns
parted. The first thing she saw was his blue uniform.

Dex stopped in his tracks and for a moment
they just studied each other. Honey’s heart pounded. He looked gorgeous and
wild at the same time—his hair stuck up as if he’d raked his hands through it
several times, and his eyes were wide with fear. As he saw she was all right,
though, the fear faded, and he let out a long, slow breath.

Would he demand she get up and accompany
him back? Berate her for worrying them all?

He did neither, though. He walked over and
sank down onto the ground next to her, back against a rock, his upper arm brushing
hers.

Honey’s heart continued to hammer. Inside,
she whirled with emotions. But it didn’t escape her that overriding them all
was relief.

He took out his mobile and sent a quick
text. As he tucked it back into the pocket of his jacket, he glanced over at
her. “Sorry. Just letting your dad know I’ve got you.”

A shiver ran down her back. Dex always did
that to her. Spoke with the tiniest hint of possessiveness, as if he wanted
everyone to know she was his.

“Are you cold?” Without waiting for an
answer, he unbuttoned his jacket, slipped it off and placed it around her
shoulders.

“Thank you.” She pulled it close, nestling
into the thick material. It smelled of him—of warm male, with a hint of his
aftershave. It was almost as good as having his arms around her.

There was something bulky in the top
pocket, and she undid the button and pulled it out. It was a small bottle of
Irish whiskey. “What the hell?”

“I stole it from Cam’s cupboard,” Dex said.
“Thought you might need it.”

She studied it for a moment, then undid the
top. The sweet, strong smell hit her nostrils, and she placed her lips over the
rim, tipped it up and swallowed a large mouthful. It made her cough and the
liquid seared all the way to her stomach, but it warmed her right through.

She passed the bottle to him, and he took a
swig before passing it back.

They sat silently for a while, listening to
the sound of the river chasing itself over the rocks and the low hoot of a
morepork celebrating the rising of the moon. Occasionally, they took swigs of
the whiskey in turn. He made no move to touch her, and she was glad, because
she didn’t want to have to push him away.

 Eventually, as her tension eased, she
said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He rolled his head on the rock to look at
her. He looked sad, defeated. “I don’t know where to start. With I’m sorry, I
suppose, because I am, more than you can ever know. But that doesn’t come near
to making things right.”

“No.” It did help, though, that he was
sorry. Ian would never have said he was sorry.

“Do you want me to explain what happened?”
he asked.

She sighed. Did she want to hear all the
gory details? About how he’d stuck his tongue so far down Cathryn’s throat he
could have tasted her tonsils? “Not really.”

“It didn’t mean anything, Honey. I know
that’s what men always say and it’s a stupid comment because of course it’s not
meaningless to you. But it wasn’t a loving kiss. I was angry and frustrated. It
wasn’t a nice kiss. I wasn’t nice to her. I don’t think I’ve ever been nice to
her.”

Honey sat quietly, thinking about his
words. What could she say in reply to that? That it didn’t matter? Because of
course it did—the thought of Dex—her Dex—kissing another woman speared her
through the heart every time she thought about it.

“The thing is,” she said softly, “it’s not
really about the kiss. I know you might not believe me, but actually I kind of
understand. I thought about what might have happened if it had been Ian who had
turned up on my doorstep, wanting me back. Of course I wouldn’t want that—I
don’t want the bastard within a continent of me ever again. But if he was here,
standing in front of me… I know what it’s like, how a person can have a hold
over you.”

She took a swallow from the bottle, winced,
then passed it to Dex. He took another mouthful and passed it back. She
examined the label as she continued. “I had to go through it all again today—at
the court house.”

“Oh shit of course, how did it go?”

She shrugged. “We found the woman guilty. I
held out as long as I could, but ultimately it was eleven to one, and if I’d
refused to change my vote we would have had a hung jury and the poor woman
would have had to go through it all again. I feel bad about it, but it’s done
now.” She picked at the label on the bottle, trying not to think about the
defeat on Sarah Green’s face.