by Nicola Marsh
He didn’t have it in him to reveal his regular deposits for her had been guilt money for not having the guts to have this confrontation years earlier, so he settled for the truth.
‘I came here tonight hoping for...something. Some kind of closure perhaps? I don’t know.’ He scrubbed a hand over his face; it did little to ease the tension making his facial muscles ache. ‘I didn’t expect you to open up.’
‘It’s long overdue, don’t you think?’ She sounded brusque and matter-of-fact, much like the gran he remembered from his early childhood when she’d tried to be stern before slipping him an extra choc-chip cookie.
He nodded. ‘I’ve spent more than a decade travelling, never putting down roots, because the only time I did, with you, I didn’t like it so much.’
She waited, sensing he had more to say, so he continued. ‘I gave up on us the last five years. I was done.’
‘So why did you really come here tonight?’
He didn’t have to tell her the truth. He owed her nothing. But she’d revealed so much herself that he found the truth hovering on his lips, eager to spill out.
‘Because I need to get my head on straight. I’ve spent a lot of my life chasing the next big thing, one high after another, but now I’m contemplating...more.’
A soft smile played about her mouth. ‘This must involve a woman and she must be very special for you to go to such lengths, turning up here after five years to confront this old dragon.’
He found himself returning her smile. ‘It’s Polly Scanlon.’
Her eyebrows rose, the wrinkles in her forehead increasing tenfold. ‘Polly from next door?’
‘Yeah.’
Her eyes glinted with approval. ‘I always liked how that family took you under their wing. They gave you what I couldn’t.’
She blinked several times and looked away. ‘I’ve been a useless grandmother but I hope by learning the truth tonight you can move forward with your Polly.’
Your Polly.
Ryder had no idea if he wanted her to be his, but after an evening of surprises with his gran, he knew he was closer to figuring it out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AFTER WOWING ANDRINA and landing her dream job, Polly had tried calling Ryder. Twice. It went through to voicemail both times. So she left an upbeat message about having good news and asking him to call her.
She’d spent the next few hours scouring the research he’d sent her for his book, doing her best to collate and sort it. She approached it methodically, knowing if she got too caught up in reading the information she’d be awake all night. Besides, delving into his life would only make it harder for her to walk away at the end, something that was drawing nearer every day.
She’d known it the minute Andrina had given her a crack at her dream job. She couldn’t screw it up. She’d worked too long and too hard to mess around and she knew the longer she spent with Ryder, the higher the chance she’d fall for him, thereby royally screwing up her plans. She hadn’t signed up for heartbreak when they’d started their sexual liaison and she’d be damned if she allowed her growing feelings for him to muck up her dream job.
It took her seven hours to complete the compilation and after she’d saved her work into a folder and emailed it to him, she tucked herself up on the couch and ate her way through a tub of honey and macadamia ice cream, wishing he’d call.
She picked up her mobile several times, itching to send him a text, but if her voicemail hadn’t been clear enough what would a text achieve?
It was interesting that he was the first person she had wanted to share the good news with. Not Archie, her go-to guy. And certainly not Barbara. Would her mum even understand what she’d achieved?
She hadn’t been terribly impressed when Polly had first told her about scoring a job at Sizzle, despite gushing over their clothes in magazines for years.
Ryder had asked her why working for Sizzle had been so important and she’d given him the answer she’d mentally rehearsed for such a question.
What would he think if she revealed the whole truth?
That she still secretly craved her mother’s approval after all these years? That she’d hated being second best growing up? That she hoped her mum, with her fashion obsession, would embrace her daughter’s job in a way she’d never fully embraced her?
When she’d got home from work a few hours ago and Ryder hadn’t returned her call, she’d rung Archie and told him the news. Her brother had been predictably supportive and said they’d share an extra drink or two at his thirtieth in a few days. But getting recognition from Archie didn’t hold the same significance as getting it from Ryder—and that was the moment she’d known she was in big trouble.
She’d gone into this fling with her eyes open, but somewhere along the way the lines had shifted and blurred beyond recognition.
Their friendship was too important for her to tell him everything but she knew without a doubt that if she revealed one tenth of what she was really feeling he’d hightail it back to France or Morocco or Peru without looking back.
Her mobile rang and her heart leapt. However, when she glanced at the screen, her hope that Ryder had finally called her back evaporated.
Hesitating, she stared at the screen, wondering whether she should answer or let her mum leave a message. That way, she could call back when she felt more in control of her feelings, and not so damn down.
After the fifth ring she gave in. Sticking the spoon into the ice cream, she picked up.
‘Hey, Mum.’
The faintest crackle came down the line. ‘Polly, can you hear me?’
‘Yeah.’
The crackle came again, louder this time. ‘Damn it, I’m about fifteen minutes out of Cairns and reception here is dodgy. Anyway, just wanted to ring and say congratulations. Archie told me about your new job.’
Stunned, Polly gripped the phone so tightly she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the glass screen crack.
‘Uh, thanks.’
‘I’d rung your brother to wish him a happy birthday for Sunday as I’m not sure I’ll make it back by then and he told me the good news.’
Polly wasn’t sure what was in that ice cream or if the combination of honey and macadamia had produced some kind of hallucinogen. ‘I’m pleased.’
It was the understatement of the year, but her mum wouldn’t pick up on it.
‘Sounds perfect for you, combining your two great loves, numbers and fashion,’ Barbara chuckled. ‘Must admit, I had my doubts when you first started working there because you’re too sweet to be thrust into such a cutthroat world like high fashion, but I’m thrilled you’ve proved to everyone, including me, that you’re made of sterner stuff.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I never told you this, but I got a job in a fashion house once, before you were born. It was just as a general dogsbody but I was over the moon. But I couldn’t hack the bitchiness so I quit after six weeks.’
Polly stared at the ice cream tub, convinced she’d entered some kind of alternate reality after eating it. Did brain freeze lead to time travel?
‘Anyway, I’m proud of you and look forward to hearing all about it when I get home, whenever that is.’
The crackles grew louder and Polly didn’t know if her mother heard her say, ‘Thanks, Mum, that means a lot.’
But when the line went dead, she was left staring at the phone, wondering if the small, hopeful part of her that yearned for her mother’s approval all these years had conjured up that phone call.
Her mother’s praise didn’t erase the years of feeling second best but it went some way to explaining her love of fashion and why she’d been hesitant when Polly had first landed the job at Sizzle. Her mum had been concerned, not jealous or uncaring.
It made her wonder what else she had been wrong about.
Before she could second-guess her decision, she di
tched the melted ice cream, changed into jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed her keys.
She’d avoided Ryder several times now and he’d had the guts to come and see her. Time to return the favour.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RYDER HAD MISSED two calls from Polly while he’d been with his grandmother. He would’ve been worried if she hadn’t sounded so upbeat and left a message asking him to call her. Which he would, later, because after spending an hour and a half with his gran he felt like he’d been flayed alive and he couldn’t deal with anybody else.
He felt raw, exposed, like someone had used tweezers to peel his skin off one layer at a time. Polly’s go-to place might be a room at work filled with plush fabrics; his was Circular Quay.
In his teens he’d often gone there to watch the buskers and the tourists, people from all over the world with nothing better to do than pose for selfies with the Harbour Bridge in the background or snap a billion shots of the Opera House. He’d liked a crowd because it had given him anonymity, a way to blend in and disappear, at complete odds with how he’d felt at home where his grandmother had had a knack for singling him out with a glare while also not really seeing him at all.
She’d explained why and, while he understood, he couldn’t forgive her. He would, in time, but too much had happened between them for him to forget everything so quickly. She’d made him feel unlovable at a time when he’d needed her most and that would take a long time to get over. At least they’d parted on good terms now and he’d vowed to visit more often and she’d promised to call regularly. It was a start.
Tonight, striding down the boardwalk alongside a ferry bound for Manly, he wondered if his wanderlust was as simple as never wanting to put down roots in a home because he’d never really had one. It seemed too trite, too convenient an excuse, but it made sense.
So what happened now?
He had speaking gigs lined up for the next six months in the United States. Usually he’d be looking forward to moving on, seeking out the next challenge. But this time it was different.
Because of Polly.
He should ring her back but with his head still aching from his grandmother’s revelations he needed to wait a little longer.
He strolled towards the Opera House where people mingled on the steps, oohing and ahhing over the beauty of Sydney at night. The Harbour Bridge lit up the sky like a sparkling coat hanger, with the lights of Luna Park twinkling on the opposite shore. Mansions worth millions dotted distant shorelines, adding to the glitz of the panorama.
A brisk breeze blew in from the direction of The Heads and he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar briny scent of home.
This city was in his blood. And maybe, just maybe, he’d made a mistake in staying away.
The high-pitched whir of a jetski snagged his attention and he glanced at the water in time to see three crazy guys zoom past. The daredevils would be arrested—if the water police could catch them. The jetskiers did a few wide loops, spraying water in their wakes, before zooming off in the direction of the Bridge.
As he watched their trails of foam, he expected to feel a pang of wistfulness, a yearning...but he felt nothing. He’d been like them once, chasing the next thrill, a guaranteed shot of adrenaline that would keep him going until the next outlandish stunt. But the accident had changed him and he’d grown up almost overnight. Though substituting chasing women as a way to achieve a thrill instead of daredevil stunts couldn’t technically be classed as growing up.
Not that he didn’t miss the old days. He still watched extreme sports on TV and attended the occasional event that mates were competing in. But cheating death, even if it hadn’t been during one of his stunts, had given him a new perspective on life.
And he didn’t want to waste a single moment.
Sliding his mobile from his pocket, he dialled Polly. He had no idea what he’d say to her or how he’d articulate half of what he was thinking but it was time to grow a pair and do what had to be done.
He had to end it between them, because the longer this dragged on and he deluded himself into believing it was all about the sex, the harder it would be. But the thought of telling Polly they were over...it gutted him.
As Polly picked up, he steeled himself.
‘Hey, Ryder, everything okay?’
‘Yeah, fine. Sorry for not getting back to you earlier, I was at Gran’s.’
Considering how he had shut down on her when she’d initially brought up his family, he knew she’d understand the importance of his declaration. He wanted to give her some snippet, an understanding of what drove him when he told her the truth: they had never stood a chance.
After a long pause, she said, ‘How did that go?’
‘Better than expected, actually. Can I come over? We need to talk.’
It would take all his willpower to ensure that was all they did because every time he laid eyes on her he wanted her naked and pliant.
Another pause. ‘I’d love that, but I can’t. The fundraiser’s tomorrow night, remember?’
‘I forgot.’
He heard her sharp intake of breath. ‘Tell me you’re kidding. Your speech is ready, right?’
‘You’re still so easy to reel in, Pol.’
‘Idiot,’ she muttered, with a hint of amusement. ‘For acting like a dickhead, I’m not going to tell you my news.’
‘What news?’
‘Remember I said if I lasted three months as Andrina’s assistant, she’d give me a shot at pitching for a financial role?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, I didn’t want to wait. I’m sick of being her lackey so I stayed up last night putting a presentation together and I kicked ass today. She offered me the job.’
Her little squeal of excitement made his chest expand with joy.
‘That’s great.’
He meant it, but he could hardly end things when she’d just landed her dream job. What sort of a prick would that make him? He’d have to wait until after the fundraiser and while he hated the feeling that he was stringing her along, he knew he couldn’t afford to screw this up.
‘How about we celebrate tomorrow night, after the fundraiser?’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ she said, but he couldn’t miss her decided lack of enthusiasm.
Polly wasn’t the type of woman to be pissed off that he hadn’t returned her calls earlier, which meant there was more at play here and he hoped his plans to come clean to her wouldn’t be scuttled.
‘Everything okay?’
She sighed. ‘Yeah, I’m stoked about the job but I just want this fundraiser over and done with.’
‘You and me both.’ He lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. ‘Because then we get to celebrate in earnest.’
‘I’m assuming you’re not just talking about champagne?’
‘You better believe it, babe.’
She laughed and some of the tension gripping him eased. ‘I’ll see you at the hotel around seven? Your speech is at seven-thirty.’
‘I’ll be there.’
He’d already offered to pick her up and she’d declined, citing organisational issues but he wished he could see her before tomorrow night.
‘Ryder?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I know I’ve already said this but thanks for doing this.’
‘Anything for you, Pol.’
He shouldn’t have said it because he heard another soft sigh before she hung up. He knew he couldn’t be the guy to make Polly happy.
* * *
Polly hated lying to Ryder.
She didn’t have any more work to do tonight for the fundraiser. But she did have a date with the makeover consultant he’d set her up with.
She wanted to wow him at the fundraiser in an impossibly gorgeous dress with a glamorous updo and smoking-hot make-up. However, as
the twentysomething woman buzzed around her lounge room, fussing over fabrics and styles, Polly wasn’t having half the fun she’d expected.
Because all she could think about was Ryder.
He’d set this up, he deserved to be here, and before she could second-guess her impulse she fired off a text asking him to come over anyway.
Her heart did a weird little jive at his response, promising he’d be around ASAP, and she refocussed her energy on the stylist, who’d changed her hair from a French roll to a chignon to a tousled updo within the space of a few minutes. When the doorbell rang she almost bolted for it in relief.
Opening it, she all but dragged Ryder inside. ‘Come and save me from the fashion police,’ she whispered, pulling an exaggerated terrified face. ‘I had no idea what I was in for, agreeing to a makeover.’
He grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘She’s the best in Sydney, apparently, but I have some fashion expertise.’
‘Oh?’
He leaned in close, his breath fanning her ear and sending a shiver of anticipation through her. ‘Yeah, I’m an expert in taking off your clothes.’
She punched him lightly in the chest. ‘Help me.’
He laughed and followed her into the lounge room, which looked like an entire department store had thrown up on itself. Satins, linens, silks and velvets were draped over every surface, magenta, emerald and daffodil warring with sienna, ecru and crimson. And she’d tried on almost every item over the last two hours.
‘Wow,’ Ryder said, glancing around the room, eyebrows raised.
The stylist offered him a terse nod in greeting, obviously not thrilled at being interrupted.
‘Caitlyn, do you mind if we call it a night?’
Caitlyn frowned and folded her arms. ‘But we haven’t finished. You’ve only chosen five outfits and my contract stipulated ten.’