With my long hair wrapped into a tight bun on top of my head, I put on a neutral-coloured suit with a soft mauve blouse that tied at my neck instead of a collar. Then I slipped my feet into a pair of black court shoes and pulled a piece of paper and an envelope out of my desk drawer. Taking the key card from my bag, I wrote a simple note to take care of my twenty-year-old problem: I’m sorry. But it won’t work. Then I folded the paper around the card and sealed it inside the envelope, dropping it on Brandon’s desk on my way through the office. He’d find it there when he came in after university later in the day. The relief I felt was insurmountable. Today was going to be business as usual. I’d said it before, but this time I meant it—I was reclaiming my life.
“Off to court?” I said, asking an obvious question when Olivia leaned against the door of my office wearing her barrister’s gown and wig.
She nodded glumly. “We’re starting at ten, but I wanted to tell you not to wait for me tonight. My cases are piling up so I’m going to work late once today’s hearing wraps.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
With her lips pressed together, she shook her head. “We have one of the other solicitor advocates working on it.”
“I understand.” With my recent demotion, it meant that I wasn’t allowed to be associated with any OPP cases in an official capacity. I’d not only lost my position, but also lost my credibility with my fellow solicitors. It had been explained away as a ‘shift in priorities’. But no one took a demotion with a bigger workload because of a priority change. Everyone knew that. They just hadn’t said anything directly to my face, preferring to whisper and make assumptions behind my back instead.
“I do want to hang out with you, though. Promise me you’ll come clubbing on Friday? I’m going to need it after this week is over, and I really want my bestie by my side.”
Smiling, I nodded. “Sure. Although I’m going home alone this time.”
“That might be a good idea.” She laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
When she left, I sorted through some new cases and handed them out to my solicitors. Despite feeling a little dejected about not being able to work on any high-profile cases, I did it all with a bounce in my step and a sense that everything was going to be OK. I’d made up my mind about what had to happen with Brandon, and I wasn’t even dreading my lunch date with Jack. I felt cool, calm and capable.
“You seem chirpy today,” Penny observed when I handed her a pile of charges to summarise. She was a tiny girl with a small voice who was probably the most capable junior solicitor in a group of ten.
“Just in a good mood,” I responded, moving to the next cubicle to hand Nick his daily cases. “Are we going to have any trouble with these today?”
He shook his head and smiled. “A complete summary of all the issues. No cut corners.”
“You’re learning.” I grinned in return, feeling like the fairy of human depravity as I floated around the office handing out files detailing assaults, rape, robbery and drug deals like they were candy. Perhaps the lack of sleep had done something to my brain. But it was the first day since I’d been demoted to this role that I got through my morning’s work without hating every moment of it. This wasn’t forever.
Before I knew it, it was time to meet with Jack. Nerves danced about in my stomach as I pulled my bag from my drawer in preparation to head out. It made me realise what my good mood had been based on. Hope. Hope that this meeting with Jack would mean the end of that damned intervention order. Having the weight of that thing lifted from my shoulders would mean everything. Please let something go right for once, I begged the universe as I touched up my lipstick and slid my jacket over my blouse.
When I headed outside, the bite of the cool air cut straight through the material of my jacket, causing me to wrap my arms around myself and lean into the breeze.
When I paused to cross the street, I honestly hadn’t seen him.
“Trying to avoid me?” I jumped with a start when Brandon appeared by my side. He must have been walking in the opposite direction to where I’d come from.
“No. I just have somewhere I need to be. You coming from uni?” I tried to keep the conversation as neutral as possible even though I was already feeling a fire in my belly with him so near. What was it about this guy?
“I am. Do you want company?” His scent drifted my way on the breeze. That cologne. He was wearing it. He’d bloody gone and bought some more just to tease me. It was so bloody intoxicating. My resolve was slipping and I had only been a minute in his presence.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”
He shifted a little closer, leaning down to speak near my ear. “Do you know what’s inappropriate? Taking a man’s room key then leaving him with nothing but your panties and his own hand to keep him company. I was disappointed last night, Cora. I hope you’re not planning on letting me down again.”
Sucking in my breath as my whole body caught alight, I had glorious visions of his strong arm stroking that giant cock. I wanted to drop to my knees in front of him and take my turn. But, I forced myself to keep my calm and meet his eyes. “I‘ll see you at work, Brandon.”
He smirked, obviously not buying my indifferent act for a second. Then, as I stepped away to cross the street, his large hand wrapped around my upper arm.
I gasped as he pulled me against him in a discreet move that wouldn’t be perceptible unless someone was specifically watching us. Then he dipped his head and inhaled deeply, scenting me while also filling my head with his overwhelming heat and smell. He was too close. I couldn’t think with him this near. “Don’t fight this, Cora. You and I, we’re inevitable.”
Then he released me, and I stepped away, the chill air frigid against my skin after the heated reaction he’d caused. The distance between us was just enough that I could breathe, could think. I straightened my jacket and set my jaw. “Not if I have a say in it,” I responded as I caught a break in the traffic and crossed away from him.
“You don’t,” he called after me, a grin on that handsome face of his. God, he looked amazing in a suit. Even from my viewpoint, I could see how taut he was beneath the fabric. My tongue tingled at the memory.
Why did the Trainee Supervisor cross the road?
To stop herself from dry-humping her intern on the other side.
Walking away, I shook my head, more at myself than him. How did he have some crazy power over me that I struggled to control? I needed to work that shit out. But first, I needed to keep my appointment with the other complication in my life. More so, I could do with a cold bucket of water tipped over me, but the cool Melbourne air would have to do.
“Thanks for coming,” Jack said when I arrived. He’d stood to kiss, or perhaps just hug me in greeting, but I’d held up my hand to refuse. I needed my space from him for a very different reason.
“You understand what a risk this is for me, don’t you?“ I asked as I took my seat across from him.
“I do. That’s why I really appreciate you coming.”
It was a huge risk, and the only reason I took it was because I hoped the benefits would outweigh those risks.
“Well, I appreciate your willingness to talk. I think it’s long overdue,” I said.
“I agree.”
Unsure how to begin the exchange without launching into a diatribe starting with ‘how could you do this to me’ I clasped my hands on the table, looking around the quiet restaurant. It was strange sitting across from my husband, doing something we’d done many times before. Now, it felt like we were strangers. The past months had changed everything—my feelings, my outlook, my ability to trust. I found myself fidgeting, twirling my thumbs. I felt so out of place across from him.
“Hey. It’s OK. It’s just you and me here.” He placed his hands over mine. For a moment I closed my eyes, feeling a familiar touch that should’ve been so comforting. Instead it felt like an intrusion. With a sharp inhale, I pulled my hands away, placing them in my l
ap. Suddenly I knew exactly how to begin.
“I need to know why,” I said to my hands, my voice lacking emotion. “I need to know how long.” Sucking the air in through my nose, I looked up to meet his gaze. “I need to know how many.”
His expression closed over and he looked away. There were only a couple of other tables occupied around us. The restaurant was so quiet that it felt like everyone was listening.
A waiter came over and offered us drinks. Jack ordered a beer, while I ordered a water with lemon; I didn’t need any sort of narcotic dulling my senses. I wanted to go through this with a completely sober mind.
Jack wiped his hands over his face then leant back on his chair. “Because I’m a dickhead,” he stated simply. “I’ve had the perfect woman standing in front of me all my adult life, and I was too much of an arse to appreciate it, and too proud to admit I was wrong. I messed up and I’ve made you pay because of it. I’m sorry for that.”
Nodding slowly, I let that bit of information sink in, weighing it against his actions of late. They didn’t fit together. Then I waited as our drinks were delivered and Jack asked our server to give us a few more minutes to order.
Once we were alone again, I spoke. “That touches on the why. But I’m still waiting to hear the how long and how many.”
His fingers toyed with the label on his beer. “Do you really want to hurt yourself with that information?” Hurt myself? That question turned my stomach. It insinuated that the number was going to be far greater than I’d anticipated. I’d really been hoping Sally was the only one…
I met his eyes and steeled my heart against any further pain. “I think I need it if I’m ever going to move on from this.”
He stared at me for a moment, his dark eyes clouded. “Move on how?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have the answer to that question.”
Nodding, he wiped at his mouth then glanced toward the waiter, signalling for him to return. “We should order.”
The questions I’d asked hung in the air unanswered as we ordered meals we probably wouldn’t be finishing. I wasn’t even sure if I could sit there until they were made. The question of numbers felt heavier on my mind with every passing moment.
“I’m going to revoke the intervention order,” he announced when the waiter left. I held my breath, keeping my excitement at bay, because Jack was known for adding the word ‘but’. He rarely did anything out of the kindness of his heart. “But first”—there it was—“I want you to seriously consider working through this with me. I love you, Cor. I always have, and these past few months without you have been…a wake-up call.”
No. This wasn’t why I’d come.
I was there because I wanted the order revoked and answers for closure, not a new beginning. There were some things in life you just couldn’t un-see, some things that were simply unforgivable.
“How are we to do that, Jack? How do we move past everything that’s happened between us? You cheated, I attacked you, then you intentionally and viciously took my life’s dreams away from me. How do we move beyond that?”
“We talk. Perhaps even go to marriage counselling. I made a terrible mistake and the situation we’re in right now is all on me. You aren’t to blame. I know that. I just want to do everything in my power to make things right again. We’ve been together so long that you’re my family. I know I fucked it up. I reacted like a cunt and I’m asking you for—no, hoping to earn—your forgiveness.”
I wanted to open my mouth and say no. I wanted to tell him he was insane and that he’d ruined any love I had for him by banging God knew how many women while we’d been a couple. But I stopped myself, kept my tongue firmly in my mouth. He was effectively holding the intervention order as ransom. If I said no to any sort of reconciliation attempt I could be assured he’d keep it in place. I had to be smart. If I agreed to counselling, perhaps I’d get everything I wanted: answers and the end of the order.
It was worth a shot.
“I can agree to counselling,” I told him, just as our food was delivered to our table.
Jack‘s lips curved until he was beaming. “We’ll make this right again, Cor. You and me, we belong together.”
No. We don’t.
I took two tiny bites of my food, tasting nothing. He tried to make small talk as if everything was suddenly going to be fine between us. He rambled on about a story he was working on then even had the audacity to probe me for leads on anything juicy that had crossed my desk at the OPP.
“I don’t work on high-profile cases anymore, Jack,” I reminded him. He did have the decency to look contrite. But still, I couldn’t sit across from him any longer, preferring to lie about a message on my phone advising I was needed back at the office immediately. I didn’t care if he believed me. I just needed to get out of there.
We parted ways with a brief hug that he instigated and I hated, along with a promise he’d contact me with details about our first counselling session.
“You’ll need to revoke that order first,” I reminded him.
“Absolutely,” he said, dropping an unwanted kiss on my right cheek. “I was an arsehole for taking it out in the first place.”
“I won’t argue with that.” My skin felt wrong from his touch.
By the time I returned to the office, I felt marginally better. My heart was still bruised, and I still didn’t have any answers. But I had a tiny morsel of hope that out of basic human decency, Jack would do as he’d promised. That intervention order felt like a noose around my neck with Jack in control of the other end of the rope. He knew I needed it revoked, and he was more than happy to exploit that for his own end. But what exactly was that? The fact that he cheated, and probably more than once, told me that he didn’t believe in the institution and sanctity of marriage. Why go to so much effort to force me back to him? I struggled to believe he truly missed me. Perhaps he missed the things I did for him, but I couldn’t imagine he had any real feelings for me, because if he did, he never would have cheated in the first place. I would have been enough.
That was a depressing thought, knowing you weren’t enough for someone. I’d lived my life for Jack, made all my plans with him in mind, yet he’d enjoyed an alternate life in spite of me. How had I not known?
Pulling my phone out of my bag, I dialled my mum. I needed to hear her calming voice and wise words if I was going to even think about getting through the rest of the work day. Besides, I still owed her a phone call from the weekend.
“She’s alive!” Mum crowed the moment we connected.
“I’m sorry, Mummy. I’ve been busy.” I sounded like a little girl.
“Uh oh, you only call me that when you’re upset. What’s going on?”
I sighed. “Nothing. Everything. Tell me about life in Warrnambool. Have the whales come past yet?” Warrnambool was down the bottom of the state, a few hours’ drive from Melbourne. It was a popular tourist destination due to the seaside location and the fact that humpback whales migrated by the coast every year. It had been a wonderful place to grow up, and when I was feeling down, I missed it dearly.
“Yes. Your father has his binoculars and his camera out on the deck to watch them. I’ll get him to email you pictures. But, you really have to take some time off one year and come down here to see them again. They’re always gone by Christmas.” The week between Christmas and New Year had been the only time I’d managed to make the trek back home for years. That seemed absurd. I’d had time off work other than then. Why hadn’t I gone to see them more regularly? I loved my parents fiercely, so it—
Oh.
Fuck. Me.
Year after year Jack had begged me to go anywhere but Warrnambool. He’d wanted seaside resorts to unwind. God, how many nights had I lain in our resort suite waiting for him to get back from hanging with some new mates he’d met at the bar? How the fuck had I missed so many hints?
I should have insisted on going home to see my parents.
“I will, Mum. I promise. Next y
ear, perhaps.”
“I’d love that. How is the new apartment? Are you all settled in? Did that man give you any trouble when you went to collect your things?” That was a lot of questions in one sitting. I tried to answer them all in order.
“It’s small, but I really like it. And it’s starting to feel like home. I’ve put a lot of colour around it to liven up the space.”
“Sounds wonderful. Did you get your grandmother’s sideboard?”
“I did,” I assured her. “It has pride of place in my living area. Jack wasn’t even there when I collected my things.”
“You should have burnt the house down and left him nothing to come back to,” she muttered, making me smile. She sounded just like Olivia.
“You’re not the only one to suggest that.”
“It’s what he deserves, that miserable excuse for a man.”
“Mum,” I interrupted before she went off on a rant. It was understandable that she was angry for me, but I needed her to dial it back so I didn’t get flustered again.
“How’s work?” she asked, changing tack.
“Busy. I’m on the tail end of my lunch break right now. I just wanted to hear your voice before I got back to it.”
“OK, I’ll let you go. I’m glad you called. I miss you, honey.”
“Miss you too, Mum.” With that, I disconnected the call, feeling slightly better after hearing her voice. My emotions were so up and down these days that it was hard to stay grounded. I had this hope that once the intervention order was gone, everything would start to fall into place. There’d be no more marking other’s work. I’d be back in the trenches untangling cases, interviewing witnesses, attending bail hearings, and doing any number of things that actually mattered. I’d be relevant again. I smiled at the thought.
“Thinking about me?” Brandon entered my office with a stack of new case files in his arms.
Never Again Page 9