by Giulia Skye
“Come on, Mum.” Evie couldn’t help but laugh. “The only man I’ve ever seen you actually like, besides Grandad, is Zac.”
“That’s not true.”
Evie raised her eyebrows. It so bloody was true. Her mother caught the look.
“Anyway, this isn’t about me,” she said. “I was hurt, too, that Noel turned out to be married with kids. But only because he’d overlooked you. That’s what’s made him the biggest spineless … bastard ever.”
“Mum!” Even the mildest of swear words coming from her mother’s mouth were complete shockers.
“It’s true. After he walked out and I pulled myself together, I thought, good riddance. I had the utter privilege of having you all to myself, and as you grew up—so clever and so sweet—I was happier still that he wasn’t around.” Mum looked to her hands. “But that was very selfish of me. I didn’t realize until we saw him on that awful program how neglected by him you felt. I’m sorry, darling. I should have badgered him more to take an interest in you when you were little.”
“But that’s just it.” Evie knew Mum carried a lot of guilt for giving up on Noel’s visits but it was unfounded. “He shouldn’t have needed badgering to show an interest in his own child.”
This was precisely why she’d waited patiently throughout her childhood, rather than ask her mother to arrange a meeting. Evie wanted him to make contact. She’d wanted him to visit her willingly. His interest wouldn’t have meant anything to her otherwise.
Mum got up to make a fresh pot of tea. “Perhaps we wouldn’t have found out the truth the way we did if I had been in touch with him over the years. I just assumed you were happy without him and didn’t need him in your life.”
“Of course I was happy.” But hadn’t there always been that nagging belief that she wasn’t good enough? Not special enough. A belief she always reverted to in times of rejection. “I suppose at one time, I thought he might be worth knowing. I soon worked out he wasn’t.”
“You always did know your mind.”
“Not lately.” Evie gave her mother a sad smile. “I don’t even know what day it is.”
“You’re jet lagged and stressed.” Mum reached for Evie’s empty mug and swilled it under the tap. “So you’ve got no interest in making contact with this boy?”
Evie had plenty of interest. Despite her heartache, she was still having fanciful daydreams about seeing Adam again. Damn it. She should stop calling him that. His name was Michael. “I’m not going to badger him.” Just as it had been with her father, any contact she had with Michael Adams wouldn’t mean anything to her if it wasn’t under his own volition. “And besides, what’s the point? He’s married. He lives in Canada. His life is a gazillion miles away from mine. It’s over. The end.”
Mum pursed her lips. Evie knew from that look what would come next, and her shoulders slumped. She really wasn’t in the mood for a motivational talking to. “You want to wallow in your own misery, don’t you, darling?”
“Yes, please, Mum. I do.”
“Go on, then. I’ll make you some toast so you won’t do it on an empty stomach.” Her mother stepped over to the worktop and began slicing bread. “I wallowed myself when Noel left. And I wallowed some more when we had those horrible journalists camping outside our front door.” Mum dropped the bread slices into the toaster. “Every time I hear a flaming Travesty song on the radio, I feel like throwing something across the room. Every year I dread he’ll make a comeback and it would all kick off again. What if he gets asked to do one of those awful celebrity shows?”
“That’s silly, Mum. No one cares any more. And imagine being stuck in the jungle with him, or in a house?” Evie shuddered. “Who the hell would want to watch that?”
“You’re right. The man’s a fool, but I don’t let him ruin my life.” She sent Evie a pointed look. “He’s a useless man and we, my darling Evie, are amazing women.”
Here we go. Evie thunked her head on the table. “I don’t feel amazing, right now, Mum.” I feel shit. “I don’t have a job, I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t even have my own home right now. All I’ve got is—”
“Me, your friends, the rest of your family, your health and a check for two hundred thousand Canadian dollars.” Her mother eyed her sternly. “You can sulk for the rest of the day, darling, but tomorrow, you pull yourself together. No daughter of mine is going to mope around feeling sorry for herself, do you hear?”
“Yes, Mum.” Evie raised her head. She’d been about to say that all she had was a broken heart, but this was best kept to herself. Hidden and locked, left to rust on the heap of unrealized dreams.
Wallowing, Evie realized, took a lot of effort.
Later that morning, when her dark mood had worn her out so much that she was getting on her own nerves, she accompanied her mother to the high street. It was a very cold day, the dull light of which hadn’t changed since dawn. Thick clouds hung in the sky and she pined for the bright blue vastness of the tropics.
As they passed the bank, Evie felt the weight of the check in her purse. She didn’t want Michael Adams’s money but cashing it in had been a constant internal debate. Years ago, her mother had refused a payoff out of principle, but couldn’t Evie use this money to help others? It was a no-brainer that she would share it among worthy charities, but this plan also meant that she’d have to contact Michael to tell him. She didn’t want him to think she’d kept it for herself.
She’d contact him via Shane and Krista—she still had their Darwin address—rather than via his agent or manager, having learned long ago that a route like that was way too risky.
When Evie banked the check, she was told it would take several weeks to clear. So while she waited in the café across the street for her mother, who’d popped into the shop next door, Evie began to research charities on her phone.
But thinking about charities brought Webbo to mind. She hadn’t checked on his progress in ages, so she logged on to his webpage, wondering how far down the Western Australian coast he and Daisy had trekked.
Her heart stalled the moment his homepage loaded, her phone’s screen filling with a photograph of a bushy-bearded Michael Adams. She read the caption underneath and learned that he’d donated a hefty amount that meant Webbo had already reached his target. A video clip had also been uploaded. She clicked to play it, holding the phone close to her ear so only she could hear his voice. “So, Webbo,” she heard him say. “Is it warm enough for you out here?”
Instantly transported back to that first morning on the highway, Evie closed her eyes and smelled the spinifex grass and the dry, dusty tarmac sizzling under the glare of the sun. She heard the distant caw of corellas in the trees, the trill and murmur of insects in the swaying grass. The memories warmed her winter-chilled bones, and her stout belief that she’d never be able to forgive Michael’s lies began to melt away. Of course she could forgive him—if she allowed herself to.
He’d told her he’d been lying to everyone, and hadn’t she known all along that he’d been keeping something from her? She’d assumed his secret was some recent traumatic incident, too painful for him to speak freely about. But the shock that it was actually a wife, fame and fortune—just like with her father—had made her stop listening. It had made her run away.
She loved him and he said he loved her. Did she have it in her to accept that his lies were just stupid, ill-judged mistakes, not designed to hurt her?
For the millionth time, she asked herself, Why?
Why—when they’d been alone sheltering from the rain in a tent barely big enough to accommodate his tall frame—would he lie about loving her?
It was easy for her to call him a liar and believe he hadn’t meant a single word he’d said because her hurt and anger could then mask the far bigger question of So what?
So what if she did forgive him? So what if he did really love her?
Michael was back with his glitzy showbiz wife now, and whether he had loved Evie or not wasn’t changing this. And neither was it changing the fact that he had his own life in Vancouver. Whatever feelings he might have had for her were obviously not going to be enough for him to give that life up. She wasn’t enough.
It’s what she had always known.
“Sorry, Michael, but you’re off cue again.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, Paul.” Under a beam of light, Michael made his way back to his marker on a podium he’d already leaped off several times before. He crouched into a ball again, his head tucked between his knees.
“Let’s go again.”
“Try not to fuck it up this time,” Saskia hissed from her own position a few meters away. Like him, she was wearing the latest Strive swimwear, hers a low-rise, low-cut bikini in pepper red. His a pair of tiny skimpy trunks in a contrasting ocean blue.
He cut her a nasty glare and turned back to the first assistant director. “I’m ready, Paul.”
As he heard his cue, he sprang into action. A giant leap across the stage to a crash mat that would be edited out and replaced with the landing footage he’d shot that morning. There was a moment of silence, Michael held his position and waited for Paul to shout, “Cut!”
“About time,” Saskia muttered.
Paul walked toward them. “That was excellent. Now, Saskia, you stand here and, Michael, you hold her like this.”
There was a lighting change, one thick beam replaced by several tiny ones. Beads of light from a cluster of stars. Michael got into position behind Saskia, who snaked her arms around his neck as if she were pulling his face down to her lips for a soft tender kiss. “For Christ’s sake, Michael,” she whispered. “Did you really need eleven takes for one jump?”
He placed his hands on her ribs, inching his fingertips nearer to her navel just as Paul had directed. “You wanna replace me, go ahead.”
“I’ll replace you all right.”
Paul stepped toward them. “Now, Saskia, turn your face to Michael. That’s it. Michael, you nuzzle her ear.” He walked back to the monitors to check the shots.
“I’ll replace you after the Screen Awards.”
Michael’s nose touched her cheek. “But they’re not until March.” His nostrils filled with the chemical scent of her face powder and shampoo. “The Strive deal ends in February and so does this little agreement of ours.”
“I’m thinking of an extension now that Celebrity Stakes has been nominated for Best Reality Series. I need you at the Canadian Screen Awards ceremony.”
“No fucking way.”
“That’s great,” Paul said. “Now act like you’re about to make out. Whisper sweet nothings to each other while we get a couple of shots of the swimwear with your bodies touching.”
Saskia writhed against him, pulling his face closer to hers. “Did Howie tell you I’m officially moving back into the apartment after Christmas?”
“Uh-huh. Did Nadia tell you you’re out on your ass if you turn up drunk?”
“She’s watching me like a hawk thanks to your tweet.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand as he stroked her stomach. “I’ll be the perfect houseguest from January to March.”
“February.”
“We’ll see.” She plowed her fingers in his hair. “Where did you go this week?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ll make it my business.” She angled her head, exposing more of her neck. “Still seeing Brit Girl?”
“Brit Girl?” He brushed his lips over her neck. “I’ll break every bone in your body if you mention her again.”
“Well, you could try.” Saskia arched her back. “The public didn’t take too kindly when Josh threatened to do the same.”
“Forget it. I know you paid Josh to dump you at the altar.”
“He’s Hollywood’s favorite bad boy now, thanks to me.”
“He’s a media whore. Just like you.”
“And you.” She turned to kiss him. “Welcome to the club.”
CHAPTER 36
In the first week of January, Evie started a new job at a midsize accountancy firm based just off Regent Street, a stone’s throw from Oxford Circus. At the end of her first week, she arranged to meet Zac after work in order to sort out the mortgage on their flat and to confirm their plans for Evie to buy out his share.
Things between them had changed forever, but the emails they’d exchanged since she’d returned home indicated they were achieving a new, fresh level of friendship. Through the polished-glass windows of Starbucks, she spotted him sitting at a table for two in a cozy corner. She watched him for a moment, a wistful ache in her heart that the good thing they’d once had together was no longer there.
He was texting someone. Teagan. Loneliness rattled and Evie felt a jealous pang in the pit of her stomach.
Until her phone bleeped.
Sitting in a corner. Got you a latte, extra milk.
“Thank you.” She approached the table feeling sheepish. She didn’t love Zac anymore and she had no right to be jealous just because someone else did. “How are you?”
He stood and leaned in. She expected a half-hearted hug, but he kissed her cheek and gave her a firm brotherly squeeze. “I’m good. How are you?”
They exchanged polite words for several minutes, before running out of things to say and staring at each other.
“This is weird,” Zac said.
“So weird.”
“It’s not us, is it?”
“There is no ‘us’ anymore, Zac. That’s why.”
“I know. It’s just …”
“Weird.”
“Yeah.”
They drank their coffee. After a long pause, Zac spoke again.
“There is still an ‘us,’ Evie. I still want to be friends.”
“Not the dinner party kind of friends, though, Zac. I can’t come to your house and chat to Teagan and play with your child. That’ll be too … weird.”
“Why? It doesn’t have to be. I’m not saying it’s what I want exactly, but why see it as the end of our friendship? Teagan knows all about you and I still care about you.”
“You lied to me for months.”
He bent his head. “I know. I’ve told you how sorry I am.” Then he looked her straight in the eye. “But it’s not all about you, Evie. It was a difficult pregnancy. There were complications at first, a high chance of miscarriage. We didn’t tell anyone. We were house hunting too and work was stressful. Did you really expect me to email you straight away with the news?”
“I—No.” Evie shook her head, feeling churlish and petty. “Not at first, but what about later? We emailed so many times.”
“You were on the other side of the world, Evie, and I’d just met someone new. Someone I really clicked instantly with—just like I’d clicked with you. It freaked me out. I never expected it, and then, a month later Teagan was pregnant. I’d started to think I couldn’t have children, what with … you know. And we didn’t even plan it. It was an accident, the condom, it—”
Evie covered her ears. “Too much information, Zac.”
“Sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t lie or keep secrets to hurt you. In a way, I lied to protect you. I wanted you to be happy, to have your adventure just like you’d planned for so long. I didn’t want to ruin it, knowing how you’d feel about the baby. I was in awe that you went by yourself, actually.”
“I was so scared.”
“I know, but you did it anyway.” He stared down at his coffee. “And I had Teagan to look after. She was so sick during those early weeks that … Sorry. It’s bad taste of me speaking about her.”
They fell silent for a few minutes. Evie wanted to tell him that it was okay for him to talk about her, that she wanted to hear about the pregnancy and even the birth, but she didn’t
want to know. Not now. Not when she was so tired and feeling so shit.
“I need to ask you something, Zac.”
Zac sipped his coffee and took his time swallowing. He looked older, his eyes dark, having lost their carefree softness.
“Did you sleep with Teagan before we split up?”
His eyes flashed in horror. “God, no! No, Evie, I promise! Nothing happened until I moved out.” He looked exactly how she knew he’d look, shocked, hurt and utterly offended at the suggestion. “You believe me, don’t you?”
She reached out to him. “Of course I do.” She’d never really been in any doubt. She knew Zac. There were many reasons why she had loved him for so many years.
“I always wondered if you’d meet anyone in Oz.” He paused, then nudged her. “Well, did you?”
Evie held the coffee cup to her lips, the warmth seeping through. “Yeah. This one guy.” She drank, a frothy mouthful that was hard to swallow. If there was one thing worse than hearing about Teagan and the baby, it was talking about Adam—ugh, Michael. “So tell me what it’s like being a parent?”
She suspected Zac noticed her diversion but he let it go. “It’s hard. Exhausting. We question everything. Most of the time we wing it, hoping we’re doing things right.”
But Evie knew Zac. She knew that spark in his eyes, the way his lips were doing their best not to break out into the widest grin possible. He was a happy man. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
Zac nodded, and she found herself hoping with all her heart that Teagan loved him back as much as he deserved.
“So, tell me about this guy,” Zac said, not letting her diversion go after all. “What’s his name?”
Hmmm. Good question.
The other night, she’d caved and googled Michael Adams again. She’d watched race footage on YouTube. He’d look so young and lanky, winning his first gold at just eighteen, and then, she’d watched his last Olympic race, fourteen years later. His body had broadened with maturity to the version she knew so intimately. His eyes creased at the corners as he waved to the crowd, moved to tears by their farewell applause. She’d cried with him, having seen that same vulnerability in his eyes the night she’d walked out on him.