‘Come on.’ He held out his hand and braced himself for the shock of impact. This was a grasp of friendship, nothing more. ‘Let’s do this.’
Her small decisive nod betokened determination and she slipped her hand into his.
A ten-minute Jeep drive brought them to their destination and after a brief beach walk they stepped out of the bright morning sunlight into the cool interior of the bar. Adam scanned the room; only a few tables were occupied, and the muted hum of conversation blended with the low background beat of reggae music.
There was Zeb, and the familiar conflicted jumble of feelings knotted in Adam’s gut. The leaden knowledge that this was the man who had moulded him genetically and by nurture had made him, for better or worse, into the man he was today. A massive chunk off the old block. Then there was gratitude that Zeb had done his duty, had swooped in to rescue Adam from the terror of the care system. And of course the thread of guilt that his father’s much wanted arrival had come at the cost of his mother’s death.
Too many emotions, added to the tumult of feelings generated by Olivia—who was rigid by his side as she stared at Zeb.
‘Hey. It’s going to be all right. We can do this,’ he said, hoping it wasn’t the biggest lie ever.
‘OK...’ she whispered.
They walked towards the table and Zeb looked up, his brown eyes glinting from Adam and then resting on Olivia.
‘Adam. My boy. How’s the hotel business?’ The question was a standard one, the reply never listened to. ‘More important, who is this?’ Zeb turned directly to Olivia and stroked his chin. ‘Whoever you are, you look familiar.’
‘This is Olivia,’ Adam said. ‘Olivia, this is Zeb.’
Olivia stepped forward and leant across the table. ‘I’m Jodie’s daughter.’
For an agonising second a pang of guilt by association burned Adam’s neck. He prayed that his father remembered Jodie—hadn’t dismissed her from memory once she’d stepped off Zeb’s conveyor belt.
‘Hawaii,’ Adam prompted.
‘Of course.’ Zeb nodded. ‘Apologies, Olivia. Your mother seemed way too young to have a daughter your age, hence the confusion. Hawaii. What a wonderful place, as Adam can no doubt tell you. Sit down, both of you. I’m having a rather marvellous cocktail. Five days at sea on basic provisions, cleansing my body and soul, and I feel ready for one of these. Can I get you one?’
‘No, thank you.’ Olivia’s opened her mouth to continue, her expression glazed; no doubt she was looking for a polite way to turn the conversation.
Before she could utter a word Zeb launched into a lecture on cocktails of the world. Adam recognised the tactic all too well. Heaven help him, it was a strategy he had utilised in many a business meeting.
Behind the façade of bonhomie, even as his mouth poured forth a torrent of avuncular chat, Zeb’s brain would be working overtime. Assessing and discarding the possible reasons for Olivia’s presence in the same way he would evaluate the cards in a hand at a game of poker.
It was entirely feasible that any minute now Zeb would guess and quite simply do a runner before Olivia could break the news.
Adam moved to sit at the table, positioning himself between Zeb and the door. He wouldn’t interfere in the conversation unless it became imperative, but neither would he let Zeb leave without being told about the baby.
After all, who knew? Maybe this time around Zeb would welcome impending fatherhood. Olivia’s optimism might be well founded; no one was asking Zeb to be a single parent again. Olivia just wanted him to be a part of the baby’s life. Surely that wouldn’t cramp Zeb’s style?
‘So...’ Olivia managed, slipping onto the seat next to Adam. ‘Did you and my mother have any cocktails in Hawaii?’
‘Ah, yes. Hawaii. I got distracted. Definitely an excellent place to holiday.’
‘So my mother said.’
Zeb looked disconcerted, but only for a second. ‘Indeed. And how is your beautiful mother? Do give her my best and...’
For goodness’ sake.
Impatience snapped within Adam and he opened his mouth to intervene just as Olivia leant forward and thumped the table. Her small fist caused the cocktail to give a little jump, its paper umbrella falling to the tabletop.
‘Jodie is pregnant,’ she stated. ‘And you’re the father.’
Pallor stripped Zeb’s face of its tan and rendered it blotchy. With one abrupt move he snatched the glass and drained it, before signalling to Saru for another one.
‘Are you sure?’ he demanded, all trace of bluff joviality vanishing
‘Yes.’
‘So why isn’t Jodie here?’ Zeb asked.
‘Because she believes that you won’t want to know; she thinks it’s unfair to burden you with a child you hadn’t bargained for.’
The colour returned to Zeb’s face, along with a smile that creased his eyes but didn’t reach it. ‘Your mother is a wise lady,’ he said.
As the impact of Zeb’s words smashed into him Adam shifted his chair closer to Olivia and laid a hand on her denim-clad thigh. Anger and sadness vied inside him; clearly being a father to Adam had changed nothing for Zeb.
‘Yes, she is,’ Olivia said quietly. ‘But I still thought that you would want to know. That you’d want to be a part of your baby’s life.’
Saru brought the drink across; as he placed it in front of Zeb he shot Adam a quick glance. Instead of returning to the bar he sauntered towards the door, seemingly casually, effectively blocking Zeb’s exit.
‘It’s better if I’m not,’ Zeb said. ‘I’m sure Adam has told you that I’m a wanderer. I’m not parent material. I’ve done my parenting stint and it’s over. Of course I can send money—or if I can’t Adam certainly can.’ Zeb pushed his chair back and made to rise. ‘Be sure to wish Jodie well.’
‘Wait.’ Olivia’s voice was sharp. ‘Please.’
‘My dear girl, there is little point in trying to change my mind.’
Zeb stood and Adam mirrored the action.
‘Sit,’ he said. ‘Olivia wants you to stay, so that is what is happening.’
Zeb hesitated and then threw his hands in the air. ‘Very well, then.’ He sank back down with a shake of his greying head.
‘Don’t you feel anything for your baby?’ Olivia asked.
Adam flinched, wondering if Olivia was thinking of her own father. This must be her personal hell: to see the face of indifference in the flesh. Here was a man thinking only of himself, with never a thought for the child he had helped create.
‘Of course I feel something,’ Zeb said expansively. ‘I accept a fiscal responsibility and I believe that I am doing the right thing for the child. Better that I don’t raise any expectations that I know all too well I cannot come anywhere near fulfilling. The Mastersons don’t like to be tied down, Olivia.’ He waved a hand at Adam. ‘Adam will vouch for that.’
Zeb’s words sucker-punched Adam. They were no more than the truth and he would do well to remember it.
‘So...’ Zeb picked up his drink and glugged it down. ‘Any more questions? Do I need to order another drink or am I free to go?’
Adam shot a glance at Olivia, who shook her head. She looked pale, her shoulders slumped, and his heart ached for her. For a second he was tempted to grab Zeb and force him to do what she wanted, make him grovel to Olivia for hurting her. But there was no use in walking that path. It would simply put off the inevitable. Zeb would always leave; that was what Mastersons did.
‘Just go, Zeb.’
Weariness descended on Adam’s shoulders as he watched Zeb bound to his feet.
For a second the older man hesitated. ‘Adam, I am as I am.’ He walked around the table and clapped an awkward hand on Adam’s shoulder. ‘I’ll see you.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘You may want to let your frien
ds know I’m good to go.’
Adam turned and nodded at Saru, knowing he’d pass the signal onto Gan, who was no doubt lurking in the vicinity.
‘Ciao.’
With that, Zeb was gone.
‘Olivia.’ Despite knowing Zeb’s actions weren’t his fault, guilt jabbed at Adam. ‘I’m sorry.’
She expelled a sigh and shook her head. ‘Don’t be. You didn’t walk out through that door. I just can’t believe that’s how it went down.’
She reached across the table and picked up the paper umbrella, closing it carefully, smoothing the thin paper folds.
‘I played it wrong. I should have tried harder. Asked more questions. Told him more about Mum. I should have done something. Asked you and Saru to keep him here locked up. Instead I let him leave.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘Easy for you to say. I’m the one who stuffed it up.’
‘You didn’t stuff it up. Leaving is what Zeb does.’
No one knew that better than Adam, and he needed Olivia to believe that. To stop blaming herself.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean Zeb called it right. Mastersons aren’t good at being tied down. There is nothing you can say or do to change that.’
‘He looked after you,’ Olivia said softly.
‘Reluctantly.’ The dark twist of knowledge wrenched his insides. ‘He looked into every other avenue first and he cut me loose at the first opportunity.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Adam ran a hand down his face and round the back of his neck; memory’s bitter taste coated his very soul. A memory he’d never shared with anyone.
But here and now he could not let Olivia think that if she’d done something differently Zeb would have made a different decision. He’d hoped for her sake that Zeb would. Hell, he’d hoped it for his own sake. Wished that having Adam in his life, being a parent, had affected Zeb in some way. Clearly not. And Adam could see now what a foolish mirage that had been.
‘It was my sixteenth birthday and we were celebrating.’ Adam had been stupidly pleased; it had been the first time Zeb had marked his birthday in any way. ‘Turned out we weren’t celebrating my birthday.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was my send-off party.’ He could feel the weight of Zeb’s hand on his shoulder, hear his voice echo down the twelve years.
‘You’re old enough to fend for yourself.’
‘I don’t get it, Zeb. What does that mean?’
Zeb raised his champagne glass. ‘Son, I’ll be honest with you. Having a kid around is kind of cramping my style. I’ve done my duty by you and now it’s time to cut you loose.’ A hearty slap on the back. ‘But no worries. We’ll keep in touch.’
Then, ‘Ciao!’ and he’d upped and gone.
‘But... That’s awful,’ Olivia whispered after Adam had given her a shortened version of their exchange.
‘Zeb never wanted to be a father. But he did step up to bat when there was no other choice. I guess to him it seemed the right thing to do. He put in an eight-year sentence and figured he’d paid his debt to parenthood.’
‘That sucks. It really sucks, Adam.’ She shook her head. ‘You should have told me.’
‘Not fair. Zeb’s relationship with me shouldn’t have prejudiced you. Maybe if I’d been a different type of son things would have been different. It could have been he’d changed his opinion on parenthood over the past fourteen years.’
Foolish thoughts, really; Mastersons didn’t change their spots.
Olivia stared down at the table and then whipped her head up, nostrils flaring. ‘Then the baby is better off without him.’ She swept a sideways glance at him. ‘And so are you. Kudos to you. Zeb cut you loose and you forged a great life for yourself.’
Typical Olivia. Even in her own hurt she could find time to try and make him feel better. The least he could do was reciprocate in kind, with the truth. ‘So will this baby. He or she will have you and that will make all the difference.’
She shook her head. ‘No. It’s Jodie who’ll do that. I’ll just do my best to help. Now I know the score, I need to get home and tell her.’
‘You can fly back in the jet. Tell me when you want to go. I’ll let the pilot know.’
‘What about you?’ Olivia asked.
‘I’m going to stay in Thailand. Move around. Research some hotel options—maybe design a more “homey” type of hotel. With alphabetical spices.’ The smile he could always summon at will just this once refused to comply. ‘But I can ferry you across to the mainland today, if you’re in a hurry to get back.’
* * *
Olivia’s heart plummeted; it seemed more than clear that Adam was dead set on getting rid of her, pronto.
Perhaps she should go. After all, didn’t Adam keep saying that he was a chip off the old block? And she’d just seen the old block in action. No. Adam wasn’t like that. This she knew with a bone-deep certainty.
Pulling her shoulders back, she stood up to face him. ‘That’s really kind of you. But before you do that I’d like to talk. We haven’t had a chance since last night, and...and so much has happened in the last twelve hours and...and... We need to talk.’
Colour angled over his cheekbones, though she wasn’t sure if it was a flush of embarrassment or sheer irritation at her presumptuousness. Maybe conveyor belt women didn’t require conversation. Well, tough.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we sit out on the beach for a while?’
‘Good idea.’ Somehow it seemed preferable to have this discussion in the open air, with only the sea and sand as witness.
She blinked as they exited the bar; the dazzling sparkle of light hazed the sand golden, the soft grains scrunching under her toes. Adam maintained a distance, his hands jammed in his chino pockets, his withdrawal from her complete.
Hard to reconcile this grim man with her Adam, who had transported her to such heights of ecstasy.
They reached the edge of the sand and Olivia kept going into the waves, let the sun-warmed turquoise water wash over her toes. She stared out at the timeless horizon of blue, its brightness so intense, so still, it almost overwhelmed her. The blue of the cloudless sky was undisturbed by the swoop of even a solitary bird.
No courage to be found there; that would have to be dredged from somewhere within her, nurtured by the memory of what she and Adam had shared these past days. Their shared laughter and relaxed silences, their animated conversations about everything and nothing. The mind-blowing, incredible union of their bodies.
Turning, she moved towards him. He sat, long legs stretched out, palms down in the sand to brace his weight.
She sank down next to him, the heat of the sand permeating the white denim of her jeans, and pulled her knees up, hugging them to her.
‘I—’ She broke off. Where to begin? Maybe best to cut to the chase. Roll the dice...show her hand. ‘I want to change the rules.’
His head snapped round with neck-cricking speed. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I’d like us to see each other again. Not as fling partners but as...’
‘As what?’ His voice was hoarse; the words rasped from his throat.
Olivia dug her fingers into the sand. ‘As two people who want to spend time together and see what happens.’
A derisive snort indicated his opinion. ‘I can tell you what would happen.’
‘What? Suddenly you’re the Delphi Oracle? You can’t know what would happen.’
‘Yes, I can. Someone would get hurt. Olivia.’
Not Liv any more—and, wow, that did hurt.
‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’ Shifting in the sand, she wanted to reach out, but couldn’t. She was too sure that he would flinch, and that would suck away the last
bit of her courage. ‘You’ve made me see that. A relationship doesn’t have to be a power game. It can be a partnership, a give and take.’
His whole body stiffened, tension visibly rippling across his shoulderblades. ‘You’re mixing up a relationship with sex. We had crazy hot sex. That doesn’t make a relationship.’
‘We had more than that, Adam, and you know it.’
‘In which case all the better to end it here and now.’ Rooting in the sand, he pulled out a smooth, round stone and with a deft, angry flick of his wrist sent it cresting across the waves.
Olivia watched the pebble hop, skip, and jump before sinking into the watery depths. Indicative of where this conversation was going.
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why won’t you give us a chance to become something more? At least tell me that. Did I read it wrong?’
He twisted his torso and made a guttural sound, reminiscent of pain. ‘You did nothing wrong, Olivia. It’s me. I’m not relationship material. You just met Zeb—surely that gave you a clue?’
‘You are not like Zeb,’ If only she could get that through his thick, stubborn skull.
‘I’m a carbon bloody copy.’
‘That’s not true. It doesn’t even make sense. You’re you. You make your own choices.’
‘I do. And I choose to not hurt anyone else.’
He must be talking about his ex-wife. ‘Did you hurt Charlotte?’
‘Yes.’ He uttered the syllable with a savage twist of self-derision. ‘I married her and then two years later I left her.’
‘Relationships break down. It happens.’
‘Our marriage didn’t break down, Olivia. I destroyed it. I promised Charlotte everything. A white picket fence, a family—the whole deal. When push came to shove I couldn’t make good. It’s the only deal I ever reneged on in my life.’
His large body was still rigid with a tautness she longed to soothe. The knowledge that he would reject her touch caused her to bury her hands in the warmth of the sand.
‘What happened?’ she asked instead.
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