by Robyn Grady
He challenged her. ‘You want to leave me?’
Tears rimmed her eyes. ‘I don’t want to. I don’t feel I have a choice.’
The knife twisted in his gut. ‘You could do that? Just walk out?’ She wasn’t talking sense.
She groaned as his mouth trailed her cheek. ‘It’s not that simple.’ She wreathed away, or was it against him when he nipped her jaw? ‘I told you it wouldn’t be.’
‘You wouldn’t regret leaving me behind?’ He kissed her deeply as his hand scooped down over the curve below her tailbone.
She broke the kiss. ‘Don’t do this. It won’t change my mind.’
Keep her here. Make her see.
‘Then say goodbye to me properly, Serena. If you can walk out, I deserve at least that.’
He coaxed her, found her lips again, and she began to move. When she came up for air, he hid a smile. He would convince her.
He didn’t share.
‘You wouldn’t respect me.’ She hummed in her throat as he kissed her again, then murmured, ‘I wouldn’t respect myself.’
He let her see his understanding smile. ‘We’ll talk about that later.’
Hurt sparked in her eyes. She pushed against him hard and strode away.
‘Serena.’ He reached out a hand. ‘Come back. Serena, we’re not finished!’
The door slammed closed behind her. By the time he yanked it open, his heart was pounding and she was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SERENA’S father looked bone-weary when he opened his front door. His furrowed brow and salt-and-pepper hair, all askew, told her he must have fallen asleep sitting up in his rocker. He seemed so old, almost a different man. Then he smiled, and it was her dad again, just the way she remembered.
He held out his arms. ‘Serena, what are you doing here on a week night?’
‘I need to talk to you.’ They hugged. ‘Can I come in?’
He patted her back, then drew away. ‘Well, this is a surprise.’ She stepped inside and he led the way through into the house she knew so well. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you till Christmas.’ His tone lowered. ‘Nothing wrong, I hope.’
She withered inside. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Has something unravelled between you and Carly again? Last time you two had a tiff you were lost for days.’ His voice took on that ‘father-knows-best’ tone. ‘I say call her up and sort it out. Time’s too short and pride doesn’t help.’
‘Carly and I haven’t had an argument in ten years.’ She trailed a finger over the oak sideboard in the hall as they passed. ‘It’s my job.’
The lines branching from his eyes deepened. ‘But it was going so well when you visited on my birthday. Did they sack you?’
Before she had time to answer, he poopooed it with a hand and moved towards his favourite chair. Serena couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t graced the same spot in the middle of this modestly sized living room.
‘If that’s the way they feel,’ he said, ‘good riddance.’ After resettling a stamp album from the rocker’s arm to the floor, he lowered himself down and clicked a switch. The footrest popped and his brown vinyl slippers flew up. ‘We’ll work on your résumé. You’ve got lots of talent and determination. We just need to point it in the right direction.’
She forced the words over the stone lodged in her throat. ‘I resigned.’
About to collect his tea, his hand froze. He turned and drilled her with a look. ‘Do you think that’s wise? Good jobs are so difficult to come by. If you’d talked to me first, we could have looked at all the pros and cons. Worked out a plan. Every decision we make in our lives affects the choices we have in the future.’
She fell back into the couch. Alpine clock on the wall, pineapple doilies on the TV, a comforting smell of yesterday that hadn’t faded. Thank God she had home.
‘I know about choices and the future, Dad. That’s why I had to leave. I was offered a dream job in London.’
He frowned. ‘Three months ago this was your dream job.’ He sipped his tea, then held high his cup. ‘Want one?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve moved on since then.’ So quickly, now she could barely think straight. ‘This new position is senior. Great money, plus so many of the wonderful places I want to see will be close enough to visit.’
Brace yourself for his levelling words of wisdom. He’d say how he thought she might have done the wrong thing. That she could have acted hastily. But she’d made up her mind. Nothing in this world would stop her.
Evaluating her over his cup, he downed the rest of his tea, then smacked his lips. ‘Well, now, that sounds wonderful.’
She almost collapsed onto the floor. Really? He seemed so sure. ‘You honestly think so?’
‘Certainly.’ His cup clattered into its saucer on the cedar side-table.
He wasn’t going to shoot her plan down? Not even bring up her bouts of homesickness? Surely they’d come to mind. Since making her snap decision, she’d certainly found lots of reasons to stay. Leaving her home, her dad, Carly, Jezz, her job, that special client and the campaign. But one reason shone out from the rest like a blinding beacon.
David.
To know he would never hold her, they would never kiss or talk or tease or make love again, was too depressing to consider. He was so special. Hell, he was perfect. If only he’d come along years from now when she’d got all this out of her system.
From the portrait above the buffet, Marion Stevens gazed down with that soft smile and kind green eyes. Serena sighed. Would her mother be pleased with her decision?
She clasped her hands and set them in her lap.
What was done was done. She’d annihilated her relationship with David in a five-minute flash. What she’d seen as his lack of faith, he’d viewed as a necessary wing-clipping. Had she overreacted? Had her successes led to a sense of overworth?
Still, her drive to go harder and reach higher had won her that position in the first place. Those were the qualities Jonathon wanted working for his company, too.
She puffed out a breath. Whatever the answer, she’d made her choice—given the circumstances surrounding yesterday’s showdown, the only choice she could.
Her dad crossed his ankles. ‘When do you leave?’
She pigeon-toed her feet and tapped her toes. ‘Soon as possible. My passport’s up-to-date and my new boss is looking after any other documents.’
He nodded. ‘It’s what you’ve been working toward all these years. I remember you talking to Mum about it.’
Though she knew the pendant was still at David’s house, she reached for her gold heart. When she’d rung last night, he’d told her not to bother coming back to work to finish up. Jezz had been on the phone by nine this morning. Serena’s belongings from the office had been delivered to her apartment by ten. The heart would be a reason to see David one last time.
But would he see her?
Just as she was stubborn, David was a man built on personal strength and pride. After his efforts to convince her yesterday, he wouldn’t fall down on his knees and beg. He’d take her decision and seal off his heart. He would dispose of her love, get on with his life, which was what she wanted. Right?
Her father threaded his hands over the sash of his blue chequered gown. ‘That job working part-time at the chicken place, all those assignments and all-night study sessions before exams. You did it harder than most, but you succeeded, and will go on succeeding. I’m so proud of you, Renie.’
Her throat constricted as tears stung her eyes. Those last few words touched her as nothing else could. He’d said them before, the night she’d won the award for the essay, when they’d sat side by side, squeezing each other’s hands at the funeral, and at other times, too. She knew now he meant it with all his heart. And it helped. Still…
‘You haven’t got even one word of warning, or a single concern that I’m doing the wrong thing. London’s a long way away.’ Her stomach twinged thinking about it.
‘Thirt
een thousand miles, I believe. But only a phone call away.’
Serena gazed at the floor. ‘Phones aren’t nearly as reassuring as knowing someone’s available in the flesh.’
Such a big step and it had all happened so fast. What if she hated her new job? What if she failed? She’d come so far—would she ever lose those kinds of doubts?
‘It’s a big decision, but it can only be yours.’ A wan smile eased across his face. ‘Doesn’t mean I won’t worry.’
Eyes on hers, he lifted and sipped from his empty cup. He frowned and put it back down.
He was tired. She ought to go. ‘I’ll see you again before I leave, give you contact numbers and an address.’
He rocked out of his chair to see her to the door. When they reached the adjoining corridor, he turned the wrong way.
Serena laughed. ‘Aren’t you going to see me out before you go to bed?’
His smile was watery. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had a big week. Lectures and papers to mark.’
‘You are almost sixty. You should retire from teaching and take it easy.’ He’d been fifteen years older than her mother. Despite the age difference, despite everything, they’d been so happy.
They hugged at the door, a big bear hug as they’d shared when she was his little girl what seemed like a lifetime ago and yet only yesterday.
He waved goodbye as she moved towards her car. ‘Be careful.’
She called over her shoulder and waved. ‘I will.’
‘And don’t be out all night. I worry when you’re not home by twelve.’
Cool fingers tripped up her spine. All the little mistakes and absent-mindedness suddenly added up. She stopped mid-step and swung around. Her father was closing the door.
‘Dad?’ Heart in her throat, she started back, forcing herself not to run.
He blinked over at her. ‘Did you forget something, sweetheart?’
She studied the man who’d done his best to guide and protect her after his wife had passed away. And before that, the horse-riding lessons, the endless help with homework, the bedtime stories of how he would get homesick, too, if ever he had to go away.
Smoothing the hair at his temple, she willed back the tears and smiled. ‘Sometimes I do forget, but I remember now. Let’s go back inside.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘HELLO, David. Hope I’m not interrupting.’
Serena’s kept her chin high and pain hidden as David glanced over. Out on his terrace, sitting at an eight-seater setting, he was making paper planes. His jeans were worn, his T-shirt white and looking finer than any Italian suit she’d ever seen him in. Masculine, virile, he appeared almost dangerous.
When his gaze met hers, a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. But his bare feet, crossed at the ankles, remained raised on the chair opposite. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.
He weighed the plane in his hand as she approached. ‘Serena. What’s it been? Three weeks?’
‘Four.’ To the day. A month since their argument and her decision to leave. A month of little food or sleep or peace.
He eyed her up and down, then continued inspecting the line of his plane. ‘Can I have Gil bring you a drink? Coffee, tea?’
The back of her throat closed, but she didn’t flinch at his insult. Not so long ago he’d made certain to offer her exactly what she liked. She wouldn’t jog his memory. He didn’t want to be reminded.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
The plane left his hand and sailed over the scarlet bougainvillea out of sight. Concentrating on its flight, elbows on armrests, David clasped his hands near his chin and nodded as if he’d accomplished something grand. His gaze snapped back and he indicated that she should sit.
The noonday sun warmed her arms and face as she neared the table and glanced around. ‘Where’s Sylvie?’
David set aside the extra sheets of paper. ‘Guess she doesn’t like goodbyes.’ As the stab in her stomach eased she took a seat. ‘So, did you hear about the awards last night?’
‘This morning’s business editorial featured a spread.’ Half proud, half strangely disconnected, she’d read and reread it for over an hour. ‘You took home the gold,’ she said as he reached for a nearby handset. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Gil, have you got that coffee? Extra strong and hot. Thanks.’ He replaced the receiver. ‘Gold…yes. Thanks largely to your efforts. You did a brilliant job with that campaign.’
His words were neither goading nor heartfelt, rather almost wooden. Was he enjoying using this tactic to make her uncomfortable? What had she expected? Harsh words? Raised voices? Colourful flowers along with his card?
Tonight?
She swallowed. ‘I appreciate you saying that.’ And that you got what you wanted.
Gilbert, wearing an unfamiliar dark shirt, appeared with a huge mug on a tray. ‘Anything else, sir?’
‘No, nothing.’ As the mug lowered David snapped his fingers. ‘Oh, can you make sure that jacket and trousers I ordered last week are ready?’ He caught the time on his watch. ‘That luncheon’s in an hour.’
Gilbert’s eyebrows jumped. ‘I’ll organize it.’ He redirected his attention. ‘May I get you anything, Serena?’
Rather than ushering, Gilbert had walked by her side when he’d escorted her out onto the terrace, perhaps his way of saying, without getting involved, that he liked her and cared.
‘Thanks, Gilbert.’ Her chair scraped back and she found her feet. ‘I should just collect my things and—’
‘No rush.’ Thigh muscles in soft denim flexed as David uncrossed his ankles and sat up. ‘It’s only a small victory get-together. I think I partied a little too hard last night as it is.’ The thumb and index finger rubbing his brow dropped to collect the mug.
Yes, there were smudges beneath his eyes. Why let a break-up get in the way of a good time, right?
He blew at the steam. ‘Did you get my bonus?’ He sipped and swallowed. ‘I wanted to express my gratitude for all you’d done.’
Over the top of that big black mug he looked at her—so calm, so okay with it all. His bonus? She’d received it. A phone call, a few key strokes, and the funds had been returned. Now she no longer worked for him, she didn’t want his money, not for any reason, particularly the one he was suggesting. Sleeping with David had been a joy, not a service.
Play it cool.
Moving towards the railing, she deflected the focus away from herself. ‘Your clients must be pleased.’
‘Still are. You’re in touch with Jezz, yes?’
No need to answer; he knew they were friends.
She turned and rested her elbows on the railing at her back as he unfolded from his chair.
He slipped his hands into his rear pockets. ‘She’s doing an incredible job, thank God.’ Serena’s senses began buzzing as he moved towards her. ‘Don’t know what I would have done without her. Of course, I understand you had your reasons for leaving.’ His smile was tight. ‘People always do.’
Did she deserve this? He was comparing her to Olivia What’s-her-name and that wasn’t fair. She hadn’t flippantly tossed it in like that other woman. He’d been hurt before. Well, so had she. So where did the blame for this impasse really lie? With her?
How many women would leap at the chance to drop everything to pursue a relationship with someone like him? But then how many men like David would drop their lives to follow a woman with equal drive and passion?
Her heart bled, but no matter how she tried, no matter how much anyone might think she ought to get over herself and gamble on a life of luxury with a rich man, she simply couldn’t.
Could an artist say they’d happily not paint again, or a writer never tell another story when the person they’d sacrificed for was still fulfilling their dreams? It couldn’t work.
Maybe she didn’t love David enough? But, if that were true, maybe he didn’t love her enough either?
Stomach in knots, she found her voice. ‘It’s wonderful that everything’s worked
out for your agency.’ Despite everything, she would always wish him well. ‘After a decade of hard work, you deserve it.’
Forearms resting on the railing ledge, he leant forward, laced his hands and squinted at the stark blue sky. ‘What about you?’ A pulse jumped in his cheek. ‘You must be gearing up to head off overseas?’
She eased out a sigh. Pretending that her plans weren’t delayed was a waste of time—he’d find out anyway. She’d rather not be a coward and tell him now.
‘I’m not taking the London job.’
David’s head kicked back as if someone punched his nose. His arms left the ledge and he drew up tall. ‘Did you get a better offer?’
He grinned, but his eyes were dark. Was that his heart she saw thumping beneath the white interlock?
‘My father’s ill,’ she told him. ‘I’ve taken him for tests.’
Brow knitting, his gaze flickered over her. ‘Did they find out what’s wrong?’
She nodded. ‘A growth needs to be removed.’
When his hands enfolded hers, she hated herself but gave in to his comfort, and her pressure valve, which had been cranked up to overload, eased off to ‘almost coping’.
His voice was deep and filled with genuine concern. ‘What’s the prognosis?’
‘The surgeon can’t give guarantees, but it’s not aggressive. Because of its size and location, he’s hopeful Dad will make a full recovery.’
His thumbs stroked the tops of her clenched hands as his lowered voice cascaded through her. Oh, God, it felt so good, so right.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
She set her teeth. ‘Nothing.’ Her hands slid away. ‘Other than being forgetful, Dad seems fine. The operation is scheduled a month from now. His blood pressure needs to come way down.’
He studied her. ‘You’re staying in Sydney?’
‘For now. I told Jonathon about my situation—that, unfortunately, the timing’s not right.’