by Nicola Marsh
I gape, stunned by his insight.
It shifts the cogs in my head...is that why Hart left, so he could leave first? Does he feel something too? Has this been more than a fling? And the biggie, what will happen if I do as Kevin suggests?
I’ve already put myself out there for a guy before. I followed Casper: to a new suburb, to a new house, to a new life. I was the perfect fiancée and he crapped on my dreams regardless.
He took what I gave and more, with no regard for what I really wanted. And when I tried to articulate my dreams, my needs, he laughed in my face.
My folks are wrong. I didn’t quit on Casper; I made a calculated choice for self-preservation. I should do the same now. Going after Hart isn’t a smart move. He’s emotionally closed-off and I don’t have the energy to make a guy like me. Been there, done that, had the three-carat whopper to prove it.
I can’t do it again: risk losing another piece of myself. Especially not with a guy who’s already made it more than clear he doesn’t want me. I’m many things, but a masochist isn’t one of them.
I’ve always done the right thing my entire life. My parents relied on me to set a good example for my two younger sisters. My sisters used me as a buffer between their antics and my folks. Casper must’ve taken one look at me and thought ‘perfect trophy wife’ he could easily control and jerk around.
Being perfect isn’t always a good thing, but isn’t that what my fling with Hart was all about? A long-overdue, much-needed shot at being bad?
Following him would be beyond pathetic.
I can’t do it.
But if what Kevin says is true, am I willing to fall into Hart’s stereotype, that I’ll leave him like all the rest?
I flung his abandonment issues in his face as a way to shake things up, to get him to admit the truth: that he’s emotionally repressed and too damn scared to take a risk on us. Then I envisaged reassuring him and professing my feelings and...who knows after that?
But he didn’t give me a chance. He shut me down verbally and now he’s shut me down by leaving, ensuring we’re over.
What if I prove to him we’re not by showing him I won’t quit on us?
‘You’re a smart girl, Daisy. You’ll do what’s right, for both of you.’ Kevin makes a grand show of glancing at his watch. ‘Now if you don’t mind, the new general manager has some other tasks to approve.’
I knew it.
He’s pushing us together.
But I’m not angry any more. I think he’s right. I am smart.
Time to start acting like it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hart
MY MEETING WITH the founder of the foster kids association goes to plan. He’s blown away by my idea and will do anything he can to help get it off the ground. We brainstorm for several hours and when I leave his office in Collins Street I’m happy.
Okay, happy may be stretching the truth. I’m optimistic. There’s a vast difference. I should know, I’ve rarely been happy. The last time was...an image of us in bed, Daisy curled into my side while teasing and joking, springs to mind.
Yeah, that was the last time I was truly happy and it sucks that I’ll never have that again.
I stride down Collins Street, past the boutiques and restaurants and theatres. It’s been years since I’ve been to Melbourne but I barely notice the changes. It’s a concrete jungle, like many cities around the world. Glitz and glamour on the surface, hiding a seedy underbelly where homeless sleep in doorways and kids roam the streets in search of a better place to live.
I was fostered here, the third family I was with. They lived in North Melbourne, an older couple with one kid, a boy about my age, Erik. I was thirteen at the time, going through the awkwardness of puberty and struggling at a new high school, but the Pendleburys were good people. They were footy mad and dragged me to watch their beloved Kangaroos every weekend. And while the Aussie Rules game itself didn’t interest me much, I grew to cherish those weekly outings to the football.
For the simple fact we felt like a real family.
During those few hours we crammed into the stadium with other supporters I’d sit with the Pendleburys and forget I was a ring-in, living with them for goodness knew how long. They’d ply me and Erik with home-made sandwiches and cakes, packets of chips and small rectangular juice boxes better suited to younger kids. I never complained. I never told Barb that I hated ham sandwiches and disliked cream in my cupcakes. I took everything she dished out gratefully because, amid the cheers and boos and feeding frenzy, I felt like I belonged.
Then Pa found me and my life transformed but I never forgot the footy-mad Pendleburys and the way they made me feel...safe for those years I lived with them.
As I turn into Swanston Street and head towards the iconic Flinders Street Station two blocks away, I’m plagued by the oddest feeling: restlessness.
I thought that by coming here and throwing myself into the new project I’d be suitably distracted. But there’s not much more I can do in person here. Usually, I’d welcome this edginess. It ensures I keep moving from place to place and don’t allow myself to get attached to anything or anyone. I welcome it.
So why can’t I summon up the enthusiasm to head to the airport and board a flight to Sydney?
I organised it after my meeting concluded, to keep momentum going for the project. I have a meeting scheduled there first thing in the morning. Then who knows? I might tour every capital city to ensure kids from all over the country have access to a holiday on Gem Island.
Yeah, it’s doable. After Sydney I’ll do a capital hop: Hobart, Adelaide, Perth, Darwin, with Brisbane last. I’m well aware of why I’ll visit Queensland’s capital last: Daisy lives there and the longer I stay away, the less likely I’ll feel compelled to look her up.
In this case, I intend for absence not to make the heart grow fonder.
I grab a takeout coffee at a trendy café in Federation Square before hailing a taxi. I’m travelling light, though may have to buy a suitcase and a few more items of clothing if I’m planning a tour around the country that’s longer than a week.
Pa used to laugh at me for my frugal packing whenever we travelled. He never understood my lack of need for things. Then again, he wouldn’t have understood a lot of things about me.
Like how I kept a backpack in the back of my closet, packed with the barest necessities, in case I had to leave on short notice. It had happened before, when I’d escaped out of a bedroom window to avoid the heavy hand of my dad and hidden under a tree in the backyard.
Like how I rarely slept well, born of years of not closing my eyes due to fear of what may attack me in the darkness.
Like how I always kept snack bars in the pockets of all my suits because I never ever wanted to feel starvation clawing at my belly again.
Pa was great but I hid so much of myself from him. And if I couldn’t truly be honest with the one man who meant everything to me, how can I ever presume to have a real relationship with a woman?
Annoyed how my thoughts keep drifting back to Daisy, I snatch a quick nap in the back of the taxi, only waking when we pull up outside the airport terminal.
‘Last stop, Tullamarine,’ the taxi driver says, punching in some numbers to calculate the final fare. I hand him a hundred-dollar bill and don’t wait for the change.
‘Thanks, mate,’ he yells, but I’m already gone, seeking refuge in the air-conditioned terminal, eager to board my next flight.
My mobile rings before I make it through security. I hold my breath until I see it’s Kevin’s number on the screen.
My disappointment is acute and I clamp it down as I answer. ‘Hey, Kevin, how’s things?’
‘All good here. How’s Melbourne?’
‘The same from what I can tell. Now I’m off to Sydney.’
‘Are you serious?’
I don’t
understand Kevin’s audible panic.
‘Yeah, the meeting went well here so I’m heading off to another meeting in Sydney.’
‘But...you can’t...damn.’ Kevin blows out a breath. ‘I’ve stuffed up.’
He’s barely been in the job twenty-four hours and my heart sinks. I have high expectations of Kevin. I need him to do a stellar job so I’m free to return to doing what I do best: travel the world, help foster kids and maintain ties to nobody.
‘What have you done?’
‘I think I may have sent Daisy on a wild goose chase.’
His answer does nothing to clear up the situation but I latch onto her name. Just hearing it makes my heart pound faster.
‘Where is she?’
‘Coming to see you in Melbourne.’
‘What?’
I hold the phone away from my ear and stare at it. Yeah, like that’s going to change what I just heard. ‘Why the fuck would you do something as stupid as that?’
‘Because she cares about you and you care about her.’ He sounds defensive and oddly huffy. ‘Besides, she needs your final approval for the campaign.’
‘But you could’ve signed off on that...wait a minute, didn’t the site go live this morning?’
I grit my teeth in frustration, knowing the answer before he speaks. I haven’t had time to check the new website for Gem Island, what with being caught up in that meeting for hours. If it hasn’t gone live, I won’t be happy.
‘No, it’s not live yet. I figured a day’s delay wouldn’t be that big a deal so I told Daisy she needed your approval—’
‘Why would you do that?’
But I already know. Kevin’s trying to play matchmaker.
‘Because you need a shove in the right direction and hopefully when she catches up with you, you’ll do the right thing.’
‘Did anybody ever tell you you’re an interfering old busybody?’
‘Your grandfather, all the time. For the record, it didn’t stop me.’ He snickers. ‘You need to call her. Tell her where you are.’
I sigh, not in the mood for games. ‘I will. And you need to butt the hell out of my private life.’
‘But I was trying to get your snazzy new campaign approved. This has nothing to do with your personal—’
‘You’re a very bad liar as well as an interfering prick. I’ll be in touch.’
I end the call and stare at the screen again. I don’t use a screensaver, preferring to see functional apps against a black background.
Right now I know what needs to be done. I should punch in the numbers I’ve memorised and speak to Daisy.
Instead, I slip the phone into my pocket and head through security.
I’ll email her.
Later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Daisy
I WAIT UNTIL my plane lands in Melbourne and I disembark before firing up my mobile to call Hart.
I have it all planned out. We’ll meet at some public café in the heart of the city, far away from the temptation of hotel rooms and anything remotely resembling intimacy. I’ll say our meeting is business but use it as a way to suss out how he’s feeling.
Because all I can think about since Kevin mentioned it is how this amazing, infuriating man has such low expectations of other people.
Everybody leaves him; I’d already figured that much out. And considering my track record, he probably thinks I’ll leave too. If I walked out on an engagement, what’s tethering me to him? I need to confront the man and make him understand that I don’t quit on the things that really matter.
I wait until I’m clear of the crowds disembarking before I hit the call button. It rings but the oddest thing happens. Rather than hearing the ringtone through my phone, I hear his signature tone, a honking horn, nearby.
It has to be a coincidence because a billion people would have that same ringtone but as I turn to seek the source of the sound, I lock eyes with Hart.
He’s staring at me with horror and I laugh. He’s definitely not happy to see me.
‘Leaving Melbourne already?’ I glance up at the board, which states the flight I’ve disembarked is leaving for Sydney in another hour. ‘Let me guess, you heard I was coming.’
‘Not everything revolves around you,’ he says, grouchy as ever, but I see the fear in his eyes.
What is he afraid of? That I might actually make sense if he hears me out? That we could actually be happy beyond a fling? That I’ll jump him in a public place?
‘In case you were wondering, I did fly to Melbourne to talk to you face to face.’
When he doesn’t speak, I point to my bag. ‘The new campaign can’t go live until you sign off on it.’
‘You could’ve emailed me.’
‘Yes, but I also need a physical signature. Company policy. Alf’s stipulation, not mine.’ As expected, he’s not going to make this easy for me. ‘Besides, where’s the fun in that?’
He shakes his head, his lips compressed. ‘I don’t understand why you’re here. I was a rude asshole to you and I left without apologising. You should be furious.’
‘I am.’ I stare at his neck. ‘I’m imagining strangling you with my bare hands right now.’
‘So why are you really here?’
‘Already told you, I need your signature for final approval.’ I gesture at a row of nearby seats that is vacant. ‘Can we sit and get this over with?’
Because the sooner I take care of business, the sooner I can tell him the truth. That I’m crazy about him and not willing to end things between us. Not like this.
I slip my laptop out of its case and flip open the lid. We don’t speak as it fires up and it’s an awkward silence filled with too much unsaid. But I’m aware of him with every cell of my body. We’re not touching but his thigh is close enough to mine that I want to reach out and stroke it. His strong forearms are resting on his thighs, with those capable hands...
I swallow to ease the dryness in my throat. The memory of what he can do with those hands...heat creeps into my cheeks.
I can smell him too, that signature citrus aftershave, so crisp, so fresh, I want to bury my face in his neck and guzzle until I’ve had my fill.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, fine,’ I mutter, the heat in my cheeks worsening. ‘You know me. Must be a bit of residual motion sickness from the flight.’
His eyebrows rise in blatant scepticism. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t buy my lame-ass excuse either.
Thankfully the screen flares to life and I swipe my thumb across the mouse pad to bring up the firm’s retainer agreement.
‘You’ve already seen the final product so all I need is your electronic signature here and on the printed copy.’
He stares at the document on the laptop screen, expressionless. ‘What if I don’t sign?’
I rein in another impulse to strangle him. Closely followed by confusion. If he doesn’t sign, the campaign won’t go live...is that what he wants? Does he want to keep me alongside working with him? I hate second-guessing myself and I hate him for making me feel this discombobulated.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He touches my arm. It doesn’t reassure me. ‘I’ll sign.’
I swipe my brow in mock exaggeration. ‘Phew. For a minute there I thought I’d resigned for nothing.’
He rears back. ‘What the—?’
‘I quit my job. Yesterday.’
I shrug like it means little when in fact I’m terrified I did the wrong thing on a whim to follow my heart.
‘But that means you won’t get credit for this campaign and can’t advertise the fact you were brilliant on it with your new business—’
‘Some things are more important.’
I eyeball him, daring him to articulate what we both know.
I did this for him.
He capitulates first, tearing his eyes away to stare at the screen, muttering, ‘Fuck.’
I suck in a breath, mustering my courage to lay it all on the line, well aware he could break my heart again but needing to do this regardless.
‘I did this for us, in case you were wondering. I had no idea how long it would take me to find you if you didn’t answer my calls so I quit, allowing me to follow you for as long as it takes to—’
‘This is crazy. You’re crazy.’ He glares at me, wild-eyed and frantic. ‘How could you do this? Your dream is to have your own PR company—’
‘My dream is to be happy.’
It always has been. I just didn’t know what could make me truly happy until I fell for this infuriating man.
‘And you think I can make you happy?’ He swipes his hand over his face, but not before I glimpse the sheer horror. ‘Fuck, Daisy, I can’t be responsible for your happiness, not when I’m so screwed up.’
‘Who says?’
‘I do!’ His voice rises and several passengers nearby glance across at us, sporting matching expressions of concern.
I don’t care. All I focus on is Hart and making him understand we can work if he faces his fears and gives us a chance.
‘Listen, we can—’
‘No, you listen. I can’t be the man you want me to be. You deserve the best.’ His voice breaks a little. ‘And that’s not me.’
Tears well in my eyes but I can’t show weakness. I have to be strong enough for the both of us.
‘I won’t leave you,’ I say, so softly he has to lean towards me to hear it. ‘I’m not a quitter. You know that. It’s been ingrained in me since birth. I don’t give up easily.’
‘Yeah? You quit your engagement to that dickhead named after a ghost and you just quit your job, so what’s to say you won’t do the same to me?’
He has a point. ‘I can’t give you a guarantee. You know life doesn’t work like that. But I’m willing to take a chance because I believe in us. Can’t you?’
