by Ally Blake
Angus moved to his seat at the far end of the table and sat, feeling as though fireworks were going off in his belly.
“Sorry!”
Angus stilled as Lucinda hustled breathlessly into the room, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. The same stray strand that never stayed put.
He sat taller in his seat, his nerves un-pinching, his muscles relaxing, his bones yielding.
It had been a week since he’d seen her. A week more than he ever wanted to go without seeing her again.
“Sorry. I couldn’t find...a thing. Sorry.”
She shot Fitz a chagrined smile. He gave her a big thumbs-up.
Then she moved over to Charlie and tapped him on the knee. She looked nervous, as if he might be upset that she was now his boss. But, Charlie being Charlie, he grinned his sweet grin and gave her a hug.
After which Lucinda looked around before picking out a new chair. Her chair. At the table. Where she deserved to be.
As she fussed, fixing her skirt, cricking her neck, trying to get comfortable in her seat while she chatted with Fitz, Angus sat forward, leaning his chin on his hand.
He couldn’t have recounted afterwards exactly what it was that she was wearing, only that she was put together in a way that was perfectly Lucinda. Professional, yet whimsical. Neat, yet sassy. Elegant, and as sexy as all get-out.
She glowed. Surely everyone else could see that? Her aura must have been made of spun gold. Or perhaps the sun simply hit her at the exact right angle. Whatever it was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Okay,” said Fitz, clapping his hands. “Charlie. Kumar. Save the soft porn for upstairs. Everyone ready?”
“Sorry,” Lucinda said again. “I was looking for a pencil and couldn’t find the right one... Which sounds ridiculous. Because a pencil is a pencil is a pencil, really. Am I right? It’s not as if there’s only one perfect pencil for me. In fact...anyone got a pen?”
Angus cleared his throat.
He saw her brace herself, as if she recognised the noise as his. Just as he’d recognise her scent in a crowd. Her laugh among a million others. Her sad smile from her tipsy smile from the smile she saved for those for whom she cared most.
As if the world was in slow motion, Lucinda looked his way. Not smiling. Not a bit. Her mouth was pursed. Her cute little frown lines entrenched above her nose.
When her eyes snagged on his—those gorgeous, big, warm, clever, brown doe-eyes—he felt as if he’d been sucker-punched.
In fact, the entire table seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what either one of them might do and say.
Then Angus slowly held up the pencil he’d found in her drawer.
Her old drawer. Her ex-drawer. For she no longer worked there, just outside his office where he could look up and see her all day every day. Where he caught the occasional burst of her laughter through the thick glass, which made the world feel brighter, lighter, no matter how much work was on his plate. Where he saw her head bent over her work and knew she was on his side.
Louis Fournier might have been the first man who’d looked at him as though he wasn’t some punk kid, but Lucinda Starling was the first woman who’d looked at him and seen him for who he was.
Not a meal ticket or a good time. Not a party invite or a business opportunity. Not someone to ignore, or use or degrade. But a man in his own right. Flawed, damaged, stuck back together a little wrong but stronger for it. A man who saw the world not as it was but as it could be.
And she saw him as hers.
For he was her guy. And she was his girl.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Velma cried out, her strong voice booming across the room. “Stop mooning over the man and take the damn pencil so we can get on with this farce. The rest of you may feel as if time is on your side, but I have work to do.”
Angus came to and found Lucinda staring at him, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide, unable to hide the cocktail of feelings he now realised he’d seen there before. Many times. For years, in fact.
He’d ignored them in the past—no, he’d denied them—fearful that if he’d claimed those emotions she’d spook, or deny, or eventually see that he was not worth it and he’d end up losing the most important person in his life.
He placed the pencil on the table and rolled it her way. She watched, a kick catching at the corner of her mouth as the pencil came to a stop right in front of her, before she blinked, caught herself, slowly gathered up the pencil, and looked down at her notebook.
Fitz clapped his hands. “Hear that everyone? My Velma has work to do so let’s get this meeting under way.”
“Meeting,” Velma said, scoffing, before she pressed back her chair and lifted her exuberant frame out of the seat with a grunt. “We all know there’s no meeting. No minutes to take. No decisions to make. Nothing bar the fact we need to settle the Lucinda-Angus issue once and for all.”
“Excuse me?” Lucinda said, perking up. “There is no issue.”
“Pfft. There’s an issue the size of Fitz’s ego.”
“Huge!” said Fitz, holding his arms out wide.
“Enough,” said Angus, silencing the room. Now who’s Dorothy and who’s the great and powerful Oz? he thought. “Velma is right. There is no agenda, bar getting Lucinda in here with me, so the rest of you can vamoose.”
Lucinda’s eyes couldn’t have gone any wider if she’d seen a ghost.
The rest of the team, cool-headed in the face of drama and excitement, happily packed up their stuff and herded chattily from the room.
Once everyone was gone, and it was just the two of them, Lucinda’s shoulders slumped and she looked his way.
“Congratulations,” he said.
She winced. “It’s not why I left—”
“I know. But this is a good thing. The finance team have skated for years. You’ll turn our smallest department into a juggernaut in no time.”
She smiled and it nearly reached her eyes. “I think you’re right. I can’t believe it, but I also can’t wait. So, thank you. Fitz told me it was your idea. Charlie needs me. While you...” She took a breath. “You don’t need anyone, Angus. It’s your defining characteristic. It could be written on your tombstone.”
For a very long time he’d thought so too. Otherwise everything his mother had done, everything she’d sacrificed, the times she’d left him to his own devices, would have been for nothing.
But none of that mattered now.
The only thing that mattered was sitting far too many chairs away.
He pushed his own chair back and strolled towards her. He wondered if she even realised that she turned her chair to face him, a north to his south.
“You’re wrong about one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“You’re wrong about what I need.” He stopped a couple of metres away. If he came any closer he’d not be able to resist touching her. And first there were things to say. “I have something for you, Lucinda. A gift.”
She sucked in a breath, her hand going to her neck. And then he saw it: the ladybird necklace he’d bought her all those years ago. And any concern that he was going too fast, that he might be over-reaching, disappeared.
“But it’s not my birthday. Or St Patrick’s Day. Or Sunday Funday.”
“And yet...” Angus glanced through the glass walls of the boardroom and nodded.
Having been given the signal, Louis Fournier entered the room.
Lucinda stood. “Monsieur Fournier. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is wonderful,” he said, giving Angus a smile before turning to Lucinda and handing her a small spring-green bag with a white satin ribbon.
She reached out and took it, glancing at Angus.
“Open it,” he said, his voice rough.
He saw her hands were shaking, as she di
d just that, pulling out a small bottle of perfume.
A very special bottle of perfume. For Angus had had Remède’s Someday perfume—the perfume her father had bought for her mother every year for her birthday—rebranded as a special edition. It had been a rush job, using glass makers in Venice, printing out of Sydney. It had cost him a personal fortune. And Louis Fournier had been behind him all the way.
The shape of the bottle was the same—a smooth, curving twist. Though the new label was shaped like the leaf of a fiddle-leaf fig, the colour the same spring-green as his favourite dress.
“Someday” was written in the same sweeping script font, only the words “Every Day” were now written beneath in neat, clean silver.
Lucinda’s hand fluttered to her mouth as she sat back in her chair with a thud. When she looked up at Angus, her eyes filled with tears. Then she looked to Louis who was watching her with pure adoration in his eyes. “Monsieur Fournier?”
“Don’t look at me, this is all Angus. The design, the colour, the shape, the name. It took some doing, but he can be a very convincing man when he’s on a mission. Especially when his mission, dear girl, is you.”
Her eyes swung back to Angus’s.
No longer able to stay away, he moved in beside her and dropped into a crouch.
“What is it? What’s in the bag?” Kumar whispered from the doorway.
It seemed the gang hadn’t blithely gone back to work after all.
“Shh!” Velma. “Don’t distract him. Kid’s finally stepping up.”
Angus ignored them. It was easy when Lucinda was looking right into his eyes. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” She sniffed.
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t...” She gulped. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Usually I can’t get you to shut up.”
She laughed, then hiccupped. And this time the smile came from her eyes before it lit up the rest of her lovely face. “You really had this made. For me?”
Angus nodded.
“But you told me to go. When I tried to resign. You didn’t give me the chance to say why.”
“You told Sonny I had no desire to be his father, without giving me the chance to answer that question for myself.”
Her mouth dropped open. It would have been funny if Angus wasn’t already on emotional overload.
She swallowed, licked her lips then said, “I did do that. And what would your answer have been?”
“That having the both of you in my life is the best part of my life. And that, if you didn’t know that already, then I have been remiss. And I will make sure, from this day forward, that not a minute goes by that you don’t know how important you are to me. How necessary. How much I love you. And how much I will love you. Every day.”
“You do?” she asked, her voice like a breeze. Then she hit him. A slap to the chest. After which she gripped her hand into his shirt. “So why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you haul me up, tell me off? Tell the truth?”
“I deferred to you. Sweetheart, I’ve always deferred to you. But I’m not going to do so any more. Now it’s my turn to take what I want.”
With that he reached out, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate,” said Velma from the doorway.
“She doesn’t work for him any more,” said Fitz, waggling his eyebrows.
Velma scowled. “I meant to be kissing in front of a client.”
The CEO of Remède waved an elegant hand in their direction. “I am French. Let them kiss.”
And kiss they did. Until Lucinda dropped from the chair onto her knees so that she was flush against him. He tasted her heat, her desire. When he tasted her tears, he moved to kiss them away, each and every one.
She pulled away suddenly and blurted, “I love you too. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“You said it, and I said nothing when I should have said—I love you, Angus. I’ve loved you for years. For ever. I was happy loving you in silence. But I can already tell I’m going to be a whole lot happier loving you out loud. You’re my pencil,” she said on a burst of laughter. “The one and only pencil for me.”
“What did she say?” Fitz asked.
Louis shook his head. “Something about a pencil?”
“Staff meetings here sure aren’t like staff meetings at my old job,” said Kumar. “They had donuts, for one.”
“Enough,” said Fitz, reaching round them to take hold of the door. “Get back to work, the lot of you.”
When the door shut with a snick, Angus breathed out.
Finally. Finally, it was just Lucinda and him.
He disentangled himself from the delicious warmth of her arms, stood and held out a hand.
“You ready for this?” he said when she stood by him, toe to toe.
She grinned. “I was born ready. You?”
“You’d better believe it.”
EPILOGUE
LUCINDA CAREFULLY HELD three coffees in paper cups high over her head as she edged her way past the multiple sets of knees, shivering to fend off the Melbourne winter chill, before taking a seat on a cold wooden bench behind the boundary fence at the local AFL field.
Tilda and Francine—mums to kids on Sonny’s footy team—made room for her to sit then gratefully took the hot drinks.
“What did I miss?” Lucinda asked, backside slightly lifted off the seat as she spotted Sonny running down the left wing, calling for the ball.
“Much running in circles by most of them,” said Tilda.
“Bastian spent quite some time staring at the clouds.”
“One did look like Iron Man, so can’t blame the kid.”
Lucinda laughed as she planted her backside and took a moment to notice just how much her life had changed over the past few months.
Who knew that simply deciding not to be scared any more would make room for so much other stuff? Good stuff. Amazing stuff.
Taking on the position of Manager of Financial Affairs had given her far better hours at work, giving her the chance to do some school drop-offs, and pick-ups. Giving her the chance to make mum-friends—women who struggled with mothers’ guilt while trying to forge a life for themselves, just as she did.
The extra time at home had given Cat more breathing space too. She was in London now, writing for an airline magazine, and ignoring Fitz’s irregular pleas to come home because he was bored without her.
And Sonny had never been happier. Half a football field away, she could feel how utterly joyful he was.
It didn’t take long for her gaze to seek out another figure on the field.
For Sonny’s coach was hot stuff. Backwards cap, track pants that did nothing to hide the glorious male form beneath. Long-sleeved T-shirt rolled up at the elbow and covered with a lime-green coach’s smock.
Arms outstretched, Coach Angus—her Angus—herded the boisterous bunch of under-nines into free space and reminded them to call for the ball, to look out for their team mates, then waited patiently for one of the girls to take her kick.
Step, step, drop the ball and thwack. It actually hit the kid’s boot, which earned a clap from the crowd. Then the funny-shaped ball spun off sideways before rolling towards Sonny. And, boy, if the kid didn’t swoop on it, keeping his feet in a move taught by none other than the coach himself while playing in the back yard every afternoon after school.
Sonny burst down the centre, heading straight for the open goal. Then he stopped and passed the ball to another team mate, who ran in and kicked a goal.
“Woo-woo-woo!” called Tilda. “Go, Bridget!”
Francine glanced up from her phone. “Oh, no. Did my girl do something good?”
“Ripper goal. With an excellent assist from super Sonny.” Lucinda’s heart,
thumping in her chest, swelled with pride. And hope. And relief. And all things good, warm and wholesome.
Then the half-time buzzer rang out and the kids came running over to the fence line in their long shirts and falling down socks, sweat dripping from their hair, hands reaching for their water bottles.
After having a quick chat to the fifteen-year-old referee, Angus came jogging after them, the sharp wintry sun catching on the angles of his face as he loped their way.
Tilda and Francine let go of a tandem sigh.
“Have we ever thanked you properly?” Tilda asked.
“For?” Lucinda asked, her voice a little dreamy.
“Him,” Francine answered. “Last year’s coach was an absolute dud in comparison.”
Tilda leaned around Lucinda to hit Francine on the arm. “Your husband is a doll.”
Lucinda lifted her coffee and squeezed out from between them. “I’m outta here before this turns ugly. And you’re welcome.”
The women laughed and watched as Lucinda edged her way along the fence line to where the team sat in a circle, eating orange quarters.
“Hey, bud,” she said, holding a hand to her eyes to block out the sun.
Sonny turned to find her, an orange peel stuck behind his lips to look like a big tooth. He pulled it out and the grin remained. “Did you see that?”
“Did I ever! Awesome team playing.”
A shadow fell over her, blocking the sunlight. She dropped her hand and looked up into Angus’s face. A halo of sunshine trimmed his gorgeous form.
“Hey, coach,” she said.
“Hey, yourself.”
He leaned over and kissed her, a devastating mix of heat and chill, yet somehow totally PG.
“Ew!” Bridget called out, and soon a chorus of “Ew!” and “Yuck!” followed.
Angus’s lips smiled against hers before he pulled away.
“Having fun out there?” she asked.
He grinned, all beaming teeth and hot hazel eyes. “Yeah, actually. It’s such a kick to see them improving. Did you see Sonny’s assist?”
“I saw.”
“That kid,” he said, shaking his head in amazement. “The way he handed that off. He kills me. Comes down to some kick-ass parenting.”
