The Single Dad's Patchwork Family

And, at the same time, she’d thought it was the best way of supporting her children. It had been a lucrative business in her father’s day. If she could turn around the damage, she knew it could be lucrative again. And, when the boys were old enough, she could hand it over to them to manage. It was their heritage.

Of course, she’d underestimated how difficult it would be to juggle the demands of the business and her desire to be there for her children.

But she’d coped. Just about.

‘How long ago was this?’ Chase jogged her from her thoughts and she refocused on his face.

‘Five years. And it’s taken almost all of that time to get the business back on track.’

He nodded. ‘It’s going well now?’

‘Touch wood.’ She tapped two fingers against the dark timber table. ‘Yes, it’s ticking over nicely. I’m about to tie up a contract with a Japanese restaurant chain and that will set us up for several years. The pressure will be off. Finally.’

The waiter brought their meals and she leaned back while he arranged a plate in front of her. No matter how encouraging Chase was, she really should stop talking now.

‘Well, I’m very impressed,’ he said as the waiter left.

She made a dismissive gesture.

‘No, really. What you’ve done is amazing.’

She could have sworn her whole body blushed. She dropped her gaze to the fish and picked up her fork. ‘That’s enough about me. What do you do?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘SO, YOU do nothing?’ Regan looked down at the food on her plate and Chase thought he caught a flash of disapproval as she dropped her gaze.

He took a sip of water. Regan had declined wine, which was probably a good idea considering what had happened earlier, so he’d chosen mineral water, too. Technically, yes. In employment terms, he did nothing, but he wouldn’t describe his lifestyle in Leo Bay like that.

Regan probably had him pegged as one of those characters the current affairs shows were keen on spotlighting. Bludgers who survived on taxpayers’ money while they spent their days catching waves.

The idea of her thinking badly of him sat uncomfortably in his stomach and he hurried to explain. As she reached for her glass, he said, ‘I’ve taken time out of my career to raise my daughter.’

Her face changed, brightened, and hell, she had a lovely smile.

‘You have sole custody, too? When was your divorce?’

‘I’m not divorced.’ He frowned. ‘My wife passed away three and a half years ago.’

After a moment’s stunned silence, she said softly, ‘I’m sorry.’

His head twitched in acknowledgement. He’d never got used to accepting sympathy.

‘How did she…?’ Flapping a hand, she said, ‘No, of course you won’t want to talk about it.’

‘It’s okay.’ He paused while the waiter refilled their glasses.

He could talk about Larissa. Now. When he’d first moved from the city, he hadn’t been able to. Hadn’t been able to even think about her without breaking down. But that had changed. Living in Leo Bay had done that for him.

He still missed her; how could he not? They’d planned to spend a lifetime together. And he’d been happy married to her. He’d wanted the whole package—wife, kids and career.

Life had a way of ensuring a man didn’t get too cocky.

Yet there were men like Regan’s husband who had it all and threw it away. He felt a sudden surge of anger. He couldn’t understand a man like that. He’d never know how a father could desert his children.

Life hadn’t been easy for him after Larissa’s death, but he’d never once thought of leaving Phoebe to someone else’s care.

It had been one of his few strokes of genius when he’d decided to take a sabbatical and move out to the Eyre Peninsula beach shack that had been left to Larissa by her parents—along with a sizeable inheritance he would never touch. It would go to Phoebe when she became an adult.

Larissa had spent her childhood holidays at the shack and, though they’d never discussed it, he’d known instinctively that she’d been happy there.

From the moment he and Phoebe had arrived at the front door, he’d been filled with a sense of doing right. It was as if he could feel Larissa’s spirit all around him. As if she’d wanted them to live there. The comfort he’d taken from that odd sensation had helped to ease the pain.

It was a much more simple life he led now, away from the demands of city living and the world in general. Simple was good. It had helped him cope, helped him retain his sanity.

And then there was Phoebe. Watching his daughter grow and learn had gone a long way towards filling the hole in his battered heart.

Regan fidgeted with her napkin and he snapped back to the present. ‘Cancer,’ he said.

She made a sympathetic noise.

‘Breast cancer. Trouble was, she found out about it the same week we learned she was pregnant and, consequently, she refused treatment and kept the bad news to herself.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, but there’d been nothing straightforward about his emotions at the time he’d discovered her illness.

‘By the time I worked out there was something wrong and it wasn’t just the strain of pregnancy on her body that was making her sick, it was too late. It was a very aggressive disease.’

He stared at the tablecloth, tracing the white threads with his fingertip.

‘I can understand what she did,’ Regan said in a gentle voice.

He looked up. ‘Can you?’ He shook his head. ‘Must be a female thing. Larissa said it was her maternal instinct. I don’t believe you’d find many husbands who’d agree with that course of action.’

‘No, I don’t suppose so. A mother’s protectiveness starts early. Well before a baby’s born.’ She pulled a face. ‘A father’s protectiveness only kicks in after the baby’s born, if…if…’

‘If it kicks in at all,’ he finished for her, smiling at her horrified expression.

‘I’m so sorry. I wasn’t referring to your situation. I didn’t mean to imply you’re anything like my ex.’

‘No, I know.’ He took another drink of water while he gathered his thoughts. ‘She should have told me.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I worship Phoebe and I wouldn’t be without her. I wouldn’t allow anything to hurt her. Anything. But to have to watch your wife die…and all the time, to know that she’d had a choice.’

He shrugged. ‘She chose to die rather than live—’ His voice cracked and he shook his head. He’d thought he could talk about that time of his life. Seemed he was wrong. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t apologise. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked in the first place.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m so sorry about what you went through.’

He saw the truth of her words in her clear blue eyes and it warmed him. She wasn’t the breezy businesswoman she pretended to be. He got the impression she had a sensitive soul.

He told her a little about his daughter while they ate, and she reciprocated by describing her two boys. Again, he wondered how her husband could have come to terms with leaving them, not to mention giving up someone as…unique as Regan. If Larissa had lived, he’d never have left her. He had no doubt about that.

Regan was telling him about her elder son’s obsession with all things Roman.