A Bird Without Wings
Page 27
“Cal, why do you seem to be under the impression that you and I are over?”
That was very direct, but she expected that from him. She returned the favour. “It couldn’t work in the long run. You know that.”
“Why can’t it work between us?”
She flinched in surprise, both at the query and the angry frustration that tinged it. “We’re too different.”
“We are almost frighteningly the same,” he contradicted.
“You’re rich, I’m poor.”
“You’re not poor, Cal.”
“Well, be that as it may, I was raised poor, and you were raised all shiny and privileged.”
“So?”
“You’re handsome and I’m . . . not.”
“I consider it a good thing that you are not handsome,” he said dryly.
“I’m very plain at any rate.”
He stepped toward her. “You are not. You’re—”
“Don’t. Anyway, you’re an alpha. I’m an omega.”
“The beginning and the end. Sounds like perfect bookends to me. What we choose to put between us boggles the mind at the possibilities.” Another step had her backing up further.
“An alpha male and an omega female? Not a good idea,” she insisted.
“What’s an omega?” he asked, cajoling, gently amused, still closing the distance.
“A sociological term—or ecological? At any rate, in nature, the omega is the last one to eat.”
He thrust his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Look, sometimes I’ve pretended not to know what the hell you were talking about—”
“Why did you do that?” she asked curiously.
“Because I like listening to you. Especially when you’re explaining things,” he growled. “Anyway, I really don’t know what you’re talking about now. Alphas, omegas.”
“You do know you’re an alpha male, right?”
His eyes rolled as he gave a conceding smile. “Which means you have to do as I say.”
She chuckled, fighting to keep this light and easy. “Well, it certainly means you have that expectation! Lush—Lucius,” she corrected quickly. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that we need to end this before either one of us thinks it’s anything more than what it is. Just a summer fling. An unimportant diversion to pass the time while we hung out.”
A blank mask froze his features, and he stared at her for several pregnant moments as those words seemed to hover in the air, the power of their callousness remaining even when the sound of them was long gone. It was an overstep, but suddenly the exact path she needed to take was clear before her.
“Is that what you think this was?” he asked finally, coldly.
For you, yes. For me . . . I’d do anything for you . . . even this.
She lifted a negligent shoulder. “What else could it have been?” she asked in a teasing voice. “And if I’ve got a little bored by it, I can only imagine the ennui that must be plaguing you! Thanks for pretending otherwise, but you needn’t spare feelings that don’t exist.”
There was greyness under his tan, his face a study in blank shock.
She had hurt him; she hadn’t wanted to—hadn’t expected to—but there was no other way. Soon he would realise this was best, that she was out of his life. He cared for her, but he didn’t love her.
The mundane sound of a blaring horn intruded.
“I called a cab,” she said cheerfully. “So, I’ll take off now. Thanks for the good time, eh?”
“You really believe that about yourself, don’t you? The omega shit.”
“It’s just the way it is.”
Clearing his throat, he ran a hand around the back of his neck. He roused himself slowly, all the things that made Lucius Ransome clicking into place one at a time.
“Yes. The way it is. If you believe that, then there can never be anything between us. And since I already have a maid service, I don’t see any loss.”
Cruel words; as much an overstep as hers had been. The difference? He meant them.
Wishing she could kiss him one more time—but he would never want to kiss her again—she stepped past him, suitcase in tow. He recoiled, ensuring there was no contact between them.
She had destroyed anything that was between them.
Chapter Seventeen
Life at FalTech transformed the following week. Memos were emailed, meetings called, and the excitement of a new era rippled through cubicles and offices alike.
Lucius put in the briefest of appearances at a general meeting held in the bullpen, making the announcement: he was stepping down as FalTech president to assume control as head of the Ransome Group. All subs would be pulled in under that banner. Details of FalTech restructuring to be announced, and no one need worry about losing their positions; thank you all for being such a great team, working so hard through these last troublesome months; the future is bright.
Not once did he make eye contact with her; it would have been difficult for him even had he tried (which he didn’t), as she positioned herself mostly behind a convenient filing cabinet. Never having had to deal with a former lover after the end of a relationship, she hadn’t considered this part: the coming-into-the-office-and-handling-seeing-him.
Though he smiled at the staff as he delivered his smoothly elegant pep talk, a hint of strain had returned to that beautiful, talented mouth . . . And she saw then how different he had been in these last weeks while they pursued the HRF. How different he had been from the previous months of ill-tempered stress; how different he was from either of those now, in this smilingly cool persona.
It flashed through her mind that perhaps she had been good for him. That somehow she had brought him happiness; balance.
But that simply wasn’t within her power. There had to be some other explanation.
There was no evidence to support any other theory.
So she stopped puzzling over it, as she wasn’t good with puzzles, and merely thought of the now. And now was that Lucius Ransome had come into his own at last as the head of the Ransome Family, where he belonged. Well, then . . . how nice for him.
She escaped to her office as quickly as possible; just in time for a surprising visit from the director of HR . . . she sat in stunned shock as a new future was offered to her. She accepted; was congratulated; and then a courier arrived with an envelope containing a bonus cheque, the memo on which read HRF Research Project. Signed by hand; Lucius’ signature.
Staring indifferently at the zeros on the cheque, she wondered how she had forgotten about the promised bonus. Of course, it had just been a job, and he never forgot that, even if she had.
Images of how her life had been with him kept flashing cruelly in her head. It was impossible to put the blinkers back on, and in a desperate attempt to look at something else, and wildly jealous of what the Ransomes had, found herself searching online for her grandparents—and found them easily, still living next door to each other, just as they had thirty-one years ago when their children ran away together.
Down the corridor, a door slammed—Ken’s office door. A moment later, Rachel appeared in Callie’s doorway, stepped in, set a folder on the desk and, without a word, turned away.
The computer screen blurred and Callie removed her glasses, pressing fingers into her eyes as the door clicked shut.
“You okay, Cal?”
Startled, she glanced round. Rachel, looking as sombre as she had ever seen her, leaned on the closed door.
Rachel was speaking to her. It didn’t make sense.
“Yes, thanks.”
“What happened?”
“When?”
“Cal, don’t.” She sighed. “What happened with Lucius? It’s over, isn’t it?”
“Oh. You heard. What did he tell you?”
The blonde swore softly, staring at her incredulously. “Nothing. He said nothing. I just knew. When I spoke to him . . . Well, never mind that. But—” She made an annoyed sound. “The entire Ranso
me world has been flipped upside down. Lucius is already gone—he left right after the meeting, and his office is being packed up even now, his things going to Falcontor. Word coming down the wire that all subs are moving to Falcontor Tower within the next few months. Your promotion to GM. My promotion. Ken’s. Things don’t happen like that unless something major has happened. Was it the HRF? You solved it, right?”
“Yes.”
Rachel sank into a chair in front of the desk. “Unbelievable. A century-old mystery solved in a matter of days.”
“Just better than seven weeks, actually.”
Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. So, what made you end things with Lucius?”
“What makes you think I ended it?”
“Oh, please,” as if that explained everything. “That temper of his freak you out?”
“No, no! He’s really not that temperamental,” she defended hotly. When that received a wry look, she calmed her tone. Anything said to Rachel was likely to be repeated to Lucius, so adopting a cooler approach was advisable. “It wasn’t going to last, and with the resolution of the HRF, there was little point in continuing it.”
“Why wasn’t it going to last?”
“Rache,” she protested. “Why are you making this into something it’s not?”
“Because you’re an ROI sort of girl. And Lucius is the best return a woman could ever get if she were willing to invest.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be investing in Ken?”
“Well, I’ve figured out that it’s just lust, y’know? It’ll never last. You and Lucius? It’s different. Was different.”
“Not so very different,” she said with amused aridity she did not feel. “It was clear that we are not of the same social status, and try as he might, there’s no way to fix me to the point of changing that. So it was just that. Lust. A brief insanity.”
“You think he was fixing you?”
“Not consciously. But,” she smiled patiently—for Rachel was being incredibly obtuse, “I’m not good enough for him. Certainly you see that?”
Rachel stared, her mouth agape in astonishment.
“Not really,” was the subdued response. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I’ve never heard someone run themselves down in a non-fishing-expedition way.”
“I’m not running myself down!” she retorted. “I am making statements of fact. I know I’m fairly smart, a pretty hard worker, rather loyal, and reasonably attractive.”
“Nice reductions!” Rachel admired sarcastically.
“I suppose,” she allowed, “that I have much to offer someone. But someone of an average sort.”
“Oh, yes, the dream of every woman! To have an average man!”
“Nothing wrong with average. That describes most of the world’s population. Lucius can be anything he wants to be. I can’t. Even if he wanted something long term with me, my inadequacy there would finish us.”
“Why can’t you be anything you want to be?”
“I am what I want to be! I simply don’t have any ambition for anything but modest success and some financial security.”
“Wow. Lofty plans.”
With a sigh: “I’m not like you. I can’t blindly throw myself into a thing without knowing the outcome. I knew how things would go with Lucius when I started—”
“Why d’you think I’m like that?”
“Aside from the fact that you’ve declared your desire for Ken as mere lust that won’t last, and you’re sitting in my office with your blouse turned inside out?”
Glancing down at her inverted seams, Rachel cursed mildly, but was otherwise not markedly mortified. “We were . . . er, celebrating our promotions to chief officers. And don’t tell me Lucius didn’t lock his door when you went to his office for a ‘meeting.’” She actually made air quotes.
Callie buried her face in her hands, muffling her response. “Oh, god! People knew?”
“Ah, yeah, I’d say.”
“Anyway,” she hastened on, lowering her hands, “I’d be far more comfortable with my equal than my superior.”
“You mean your inferior. You’d rather be with your inferior—this alleged ‘average man’—than with a fine specimen, your equal, Lucius.”
“I am not his equal!”
“Yeah, you are. How you convinced yourself otherwise is inconceivable.”
“I—I—” How had she got tangled in this argument? She didn’t truly believe a single word of it. Did she? The vocalisation of her inadequacies sounded utterly ridiculous. How had they made such sense in her head?
“Is this about Mr. Niagara Weekend?” Rachel wanted to know.
“What?”
“The ex-boyfriend. Did he tell you he was better than you or something?”
“No, he told me I was boring. Which can be true sometimes, I suppose.”
“Hurt you bad, huh?” Rachel observed sympathetically.
“No! Not at all. He was just—expensive. Hurt my bank account more than me. Okay, he didn’t do much for my ego—which I’m discovering is at low tide these days—but no, I wasn’t sorry when it was over.”
“So what is all this, Cal? I’m not buying the ‘I want an average man’ and ‘Lucius is my superior’ thing.”
Callie swallowed, hard. “I don’t know what it is, Rache. Lucius is wonderful and did nothing but treat me like—like I was the centre of the universe. I don’t want anything less than that. And while, yes, most people are average in a sense, there’s really no such thing as average. Everybody has something unique and special about them. I could have a so-called average man who could be every bit of as wonderful as Lucius.”
“But?”
“People are fickle. There’s no forever or happily-ever-after. There are just bills and praying the decisions you’ve made don’t bite you in the ass. There are people you have to take care of, and sometimes those people don’t really care about you in any tangible way.”
“You think he wouldn’t stick by you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t know. He can’t know. Life changes. Love doesn’t mean security. If I drift along with it, I’m better able to survive.”
“And drifting’s easier than flying.”
“Sure. And if I don’t set sights too high, I’m more likely to have success.”
“A bird without wings.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”
They were silent for several moments.
“You just need a bit of courage,” Rachel said at last. “Life’s tough all round. Life’s tough for everybody. But hell, if you’ve got the courage to get out of bed every day knowing that, that’s all the courage you need.”
“Why do you mention courage?”
“Because you look scared, and I’ve never seen you look this kind of scared before. And Lucius said you were scared.”
“He did?” she squeaked. “You said he had said nothing.”
“Well, he said a little bit. He’s hurt, but I think he understands.”
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing much. But I gather you have issues. Never had any security in your life.” Rachel gazed at her compassionately. “How old were you when you left home, sweetie?”
“Fifteen,” she whispered.
“Been on your own since?”
She nodded, her voice not a trustworthy instrument just then.
“Tough,” Rachel said simply. “Hard making do on your own. No one to share successes or failures with. Good thing you’re so smart and capable. So independent.”
“Good thing,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll be okay, then.”
“Yep. Guess so. Want to grab some dinner after work? Share a bottle of wine on a patio somewhere?”
Callie stared blankly. “I don’t understand.”
“Dinner. Wine. Patio. What’s not to understand?”
“Why are we still friends?”
Rachel grinned. “Why shouldn’t w
e be?”
“Lucius.”
“Well, Lucius can take care of himself. He’s got lots of friends and family. You, on the other hand, even being smart, capable, and independent, really need some support right now. That’s me.”
Rapid blinks; she looked away. Her gut-reaction to Rachel’s generous overture of friendship was to tell herself yet again that she was no one. Of no significance.
But for once, she made a real effort to quell that response.
But quelling it meant admitting what lay beneath it. The abuse. How her parents’ neglect had damaged her psyche, her ego, making her feel small and insignificant. Never any validation. But that had to come from herself; in a solid look at her personal assets, couldn’t she accept that she was a pretty awesome individual?
If she could do that, what was there to fear?
And she was, wasn’t she? There was evidence. She was someone special to a few people, not the least of whom was Rachel. That was an awfully high recommendation right there.
No matter what, she wasn’t going to waste any more time being angry at her parents. That had to end right here; right now.
Anger and nausea swirled.
Okay, it might take some work.
“What’s this?” Rachel asked, tapping her nails on the bronze toad house resting on the desk. “I’ve never seen you with any personal effects in your space.”
“It’s my magical talisman,” she sighed, pain and nostalgia wrapped up together, thinking of Lucius on that narrow Bermondsey street. At Rachel’s sceptical expression, she said: “It’s a toad house. I bought it in London. It reminded me of something.”
“Of what?”
She shook her head vaguely. “I’m not sure. It’s a long story.”
“I love long stories.”
***
They sat in Rachel’s car, parked the wrong way on the opposite curb to give Callie both distance and the best view as they watched the houses. Front yards were beautifully landscaped, and the tangled jungles in backyards swelled over gates and peeked over the bungalows’ eaves.
“Nice neighbourhood,” Rachel observed. “Big bungalows, big trees, big lots.”
“Don Mills was one of the first planned communities in Canada. A model for others.”