by Nicola Marsh
Everything else was supposition: her supposed depth of feelings for him, the possibility she’d want more after their fling. Excuses he’d fabricated to get a handle on what was really going on here: he had the feelings, he had the problem, he’d done the wrong thing.
He should’ve stayed and said a proper goodbye, not left that lame note in the early hours of the morning. Then again, what could he have said if he’d stuck around?
Thanks for a good time, see you round?
No, it was better this way.
Yet the longer he stared at himself in the mirror, saw disgust downturn his mouth and self-recrimination cloud his eyes, he knew he couldn’t leave things like this.
She deserved more.
She deserved the world on a platter and then some.
Pity he couldn’t be the guy to deliver it but for now he could do the right thing, the honourable thing, and ring her.
When he reached Hamilton Island, and figured out what the hell he’d say to make it up to her.
After everything she’d been through Ava was a realist.
She’d learned long ago dreams didn’t always come true and it was best to make the most of what you had. So as she clutched Roman’s crumpled note in her fist she knew the way he’d left was for the best.
Yet all the common sense in the world didn’t make it any easier and to her horror a tear leaked from the corner of her eyes and trickled down her cheek, exacerbating her pity party for one.
Not that the note had been bad.
Thanks for a memorable time, Ava.
I’ll never forget my Aussie adventure.
Follow your dreams.
Roman X
Was she crazy hanging on to that one little x? Lamenting the lack of ‘love’? Shouldn’t she be angry how he’d slunk out of here without saying a proper goodbye?
Crumpling the note into a tighter fist, she knew anger would be fruitless. She didn’t blame him for leaving the way he had. She probably would’ve done the same thing, to avoid fumbling for words when the time came to leave. What could they say?
She’d had her answer to an unasked question last night when he’d cited business as a quick getaway after glimpsing an uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.
Crazy thing was, after the way he’d opened up to her about his mum she’d thought they might have a chance at something beyond a fling. Something real and tangible and sensational despite the roadblocks to a relationship: living on different continents, different lifestyles, different outlooks.
But beneath all that logic had been a glimmer of what if…what if she really cut loose and followed him around the world, seeking the next challenge, the next thrill? Would that be so bad? The beauty of freelance writing was she could do it anywhere and she knew, deep down, if Roman had asked her to go with him she would’ve.
But he hadn’t and while her heart pined she was happy she’d taken what she could get. No regrets.
This was the new her, remember? No lingering in the past wishing things could be different. Now she had the power to make things different and she had every intention to, starting with putting the finishing touches on the article.
However, as she fired up her laptop she couldn’t help but wish for an email, a phone call, something more than the note she’d carefully smoothed and pressed between the pages of her diary as a memento to an affair she’d never forget.
After working through the night, Ava hit the send button to Rex in the wee small hours, crossing her fingers and toes and anything else she could think of.
Thanks to Roman’s generosity in extending her suite occupancy she didn’t have to check out until tomorrow so rather than wallow in her room she’d chosen one of the hotel’s poolside cabanas to relax and people watch.
Glamorous stick-thin women in designer bikinis swam alongside families happy to be in the warm Queensland sun, while attentive poolside waiters kept the cool drinks coming for those who wanted them.
She loved everything about this hotel, from the stunning marble interior to the thick, heavy black towels she now lay on.
As for those bespoke scented toiletries, she’d for ever associate the distinct fragrance with her time here and her time with Roman.
She squirmed around, trying to get comfortable, enjoying the semi-privacy afforded by the sheer material draped over her cabana creating the illusion of an Arabian four-poster bed, when her phone vibrated.
Hoping it’d be Rex and not recognising the private number on call display, she hit the answer button and put on her best phone voice.
‘Ava Beckett speaking.’
‘Sorry, must have the wrong number, I was hoping to speak to Ava Beck, the Globetrotter’s newest, best-est interviewer.’
Surprise and unexpected pleasure shimmied through her at the familiar deep timbre of Roman’s voice.
‘Shh, you’ll give away my new identity.’
‘Sweetheart, I’m on a veranda of a condo looking out over the ocean all by my lonesome so, trust me, no one’s going to guess your secret.’
She could picture him, standing on the veranda of some upscale apartment in the Whitsundays, tanned and toned and incredibly gorgeous.
‘Okay then, I guess my mystery identity is safe for now.’
She sounded so lame but what could she say?
I miss you.
I miss your smile and laugh and the way you used to drape your arm across my shoulders or guide me gently with a hand in the small of my back.
I miss your wicked sense of humour and the way your eyes darken to ebony when you’re turned on.
I miss the way your adventurous streak rubs off on me and I want to be reckless for the first time in my life.
Sadly, she couldn’t say any of those things. But she could ask why he’d called. Opting for honesty, she sat up straighter and clutched the phone to her ear.
‘What’s this call about?’
‘Blunt as always—I like that.’
What she’d like was an answer. A guy who crept out in the early hours of the morning leaving a note didn’t usually call the day after.
‘I called to apologise.’
‘For what?’
‘Being a coward. Taking the easy way out.’
She didn’t make him spell it out. They were past games.
‘It was better that way.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
She heard his sharp inhalation, the softest of exasperated sighs.
‘I stuffed up. I thought it’d be easier leaving you like that, not having to prolong our goodbye, but I robbed us both of the opportunity to say what needed to be said.’
Resisting the urge to clutch her heart, she said, ‘Like what?’
‘Like how incredible our time together was. Like how we were great together. Like how…how cool it would’ve been if we’d had longer.’
He’d been about to say something else but she didn’t push him, almost afraid of what he’d say. She hadn’t expected him to be so honest and while her heart leapt for joy her rational brain knew it changed nothing.
‘I really appreciate the call and you saying all that stuff.’
‘Better than a crummy note, huh?’
‘Aww…I don’t know, there’s something incredibly romantic about a note.’
He snorted. ‘That’s just the writer in you.’
She almost blurted ‘Yeah, but you love me anyway’ but thankfully had the foresight to bite back that particular clanger.
Not wanting to prolong the conversation in case she did say the wrong thing, she said, ‘Well, thanks for the call.’
‘Any time.’
Hating how awkward this was when they’d once sparred like pros, she opened her mouth to say goodbye when he rushed on.
‘If you’re ever in London, look me up.’
‘Okay.’
‘Take care.’
‘You too.’
‘Ava?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I miss you.’
He hun
g up before she could respond, leaving her staring at the phone and willing the ache in her heart to subside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A CHAMPAGNE and several lemonades later, Ava still hadn’t moved from her poolside cabana. She couldn’t, for that would involve engaging her brain to do something other than ponder Roman’s phone call and even now, half an hour later, she couldn’t do it.
He’d called.
Guys who did a runner and left notes didn’t call. They rode off into the sunset on their fictional Arabian stallions. But he’d called and she wasn’t sure what surprised her more: the actual phone call or his ‘I miss you’ before hanging up.
Could those three little words mean they’d shared more than a fling? That he felt the same buzz beyond attraction that had zapped her out of the blue? If he did, what did it mean?
She had no idea if it was the scorching Main Beach sun or the champagne or the excessive mulling, but a blinder of a headache was building behind her eyes. Maybe a quick dip would clear her head?
As she dragged herself into a sitting position, the phone vibrated again and she tensed, her heart doing an expectant somersault.
With a shaky hand she grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen, disappointed and excited and fearful when she saw Rex’s number pop up.
What had she expected? For Roman to call back thirty minutes after his first call? That counted for the disappointment. As for the excitement and fear, Rex had called a few hours after she’d handed in the article.
The upside? She’d be put out of her misery sooner rather than later. The downside? If he hated her article she’d be left mooning over losing Roman and her fledgling writing career before it really began.
Crossing her fingers, she hit answer. ‘Hi, Rex, good to hear from you.’
‘Ava, glad I caught you.’
She could tell nothing from his bland tone and she squeezed her crossed fingers tighter.
‘I’ve had a chance to read your article.’
‘Great.’
Could she sound any more forced, fake and upbeat-perky if she tried?
‘It’s good, Ava. Really good.’
The breath she’d been holding whooshed out as she sank back against the cushions in a relieved huddle.
‘So good in fact I’m sending you on an urgent mission, interviewing the owner of a new eco lodge. One of our regular contributors can’t meet deadline and I need that slot filled asap.’
‘Really?’
Cringing at how pathetically needy she sounded, she cleared her throat and tried again.
‘I’m up for the challenge, thanks for the opportunity. Where will I be headed?’
‘Hamilton Island.’
Her spine snapped upright as she clutched the phone to her ear. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed in people using other people, people pulling strings to their advantage, people trying to get their own way by calling in favours behind the scenes.
Disillusionment pierced her excitement. She hadn’t won this assignment on her merits. She’d been sent via the manipulations of a hotshot charmer who’d coerced his old family friend into doing his dirty work.
If he wanted to see her again he could’ve asked and the fact he’d done this made her want to thump him.
‘By your silence, is there a problem?’
Hell yeah! But how to broach this delicately without losing her dream job in the process?
‘Because I’d hoped you’d jump at this chance, Ava. Not many freelancers on trial get this kind of opportunity but your first article blew us away and we’d consider this Whitsunday Island piece your last trial so to speak. If you nail this, you’re a bona fide Globetrotter employee.’
Ah, the double-edged sword. How many times had she heard someone approach her dad with a policy tweak or finance request or new tax levy, only to see him faced with the same dilemma she now faced?
If she stood up for her principles, she’d lose a golden opportunity and potentially her job. A hard-sought-after job she’d earned on her own.
Not because of whom she was.
Not because of her dad’s name.
Just her. Ava.
Talented writer and proud of it.
The decision was a no-brainer. She’d save her anger for someone who deserved it and as soon as she got off this call she’d ring Roman.
‘Thanks for the opportunity, Rex, you won’t be disappointed.’
‘Great. Your flight leaves tomorrow. I’ll email you the details.’
‘Fantastic. When’s the deadline?’
‘Week from today max.’
Not a problem. She could do the necessary research, interview the eco lodge owner, write the article and kick Roman’s butt within seven days.
‘I’ll make sure you have it earlier.’
‘That’s what we like to hear. Look forward to reading it.’
‘Thanks, Rex.’
The dial tone barely hummed in her ear before she found her recent call list and hit Roman’s number.
She really, really hated that he’d taken the gloss off what should’ve been a great achievement.
She’d had so many doubts when she’d first got the opportunity to write but once the words had flowed her confidence had increased.
Now this.
He answered on the fifth ring and she dug her toes into the plush towel beneath her. Damn him. Even his voice had the power to curl her toes.
‘How dare you interfere in my career again? You know how it bugged me first time around. Then you go and do this again. I thought—’
‘Ava, slow down. What’s wrong?’
‘Like you don’t know. Jeez, Roman, I thought you were different. I thought you respected me for who I was and—’
‘Listen, I do respect you. And none of this is making sense. What do you think I’ve done?’
Just like that, she ran out of steam as embarrassment replaced her anger. She’d been so sure Roman had pulled strings with Rex again she hadn’t stopped to think. Hurtling accusations was an ineffective interview technique. She would’ve done better taking time to calm down and rationally approach this rather than flying into a huff.
This really must be the new her because she never would’ve spoken to anyone the way she’d just spoken to him.
‘Sorry for acting like a crazy person.’
‘I’ll forgive you if you tell me what this is all about.’
She heard the amusement in his tone and was grateful for it.
‘Rex just called with my next assignment.’
Still unable to believe it, she said, ‘I’m leaving for Hamilton Island tomorrow.’
‘You’re coming here?’
If she’d had any lingering doubts, he just cleared them up with his incredulous yell.
‘Uh, yeah. I thought you may’ve had something to do with that?’
Gnawing on her bottom lip and feeling increasingly foolish, she added, ‘You know, because Rex’s an old friend of yours, maybe you pulled a few strings to get me assigned there like you did first time round.’
He chuckled and her toes dug in deeper.
‘Sweetheart, I miss you a lot, but even I’m smart enough to know a guy doesn’t get between an independent woman and her blossoming career, not after the way you bailed me up after the first time.’
‘Okay then, guess I just made a total ass of myself—’
‘But given time, basically another day of missing you, and I probably would’ve done what you accused me of.’
‘You’re missing me that much?’ she scoffed, a tiny part of her wishing he’d say hell yeah.
‘What do you think?’
His deliciously low voice reached into the deepest part of her, the yearning, craving part that missed him terribly, and plucked on her heartstrings.
‘I think you owe me a tour of Hamilton Island to make up for having thoughts of potentially interfering in my career.’
‘Hey! I’m not the one hurling wild accusations. I think you owe me. What
are you going to do to make it up to me?’
Smiling at the realisation she’d be seeing him again so soon, she lowered her voice.
‘Meet me for dinner my first night on the island and you’ll find out.’
This time, she hung up on him.
Let him ponder while she processed the fact she’d be seeing the guy she’d fallen for again, on a spectacular Whitsunday Island, all in the name of work.
Next time she saw Rex maybe she should consider giving back her paycheque, for it seemed downright illegal to be getting paid for having this much fun.
Subduing an excited squeal, she swung her feet out of the cabana and gathered up her things. She had an email to check, packing to do and plans to make.
What did a girl wear to a romantic reunion dinner?
In all her travels, first with her dad and later Leon, she’d never visited the Whitsunday Islands.
A flying side trip to Cairns once during her dad’s pre-election year but never the beautiful islands dotting the Pacific like pavlova crumbs on an indigo ceramic platter she’d seen from her window seat.
Flying economy on a commercial plane to far north Queensland hadn’t been a patch on the jet she’d flown to Coolangatta, though she knew it had more to do with the absence of Roman than any lack on the airline’s part.
That flight had been memorable; and also seemed like a lifetime ago. Had it only been early last week? How could she feel so close to Roman when she barely knew him? Though was time relevant? She’d known Leon most of her life yet had never experienced the same intimacy she’d had with Roman.
While she knew her trip to Hamilton Island would be fleeting, a week out of the rest of her life, she also knew seeing Roman again would cement what she already knew.
She’d quite possibly fallen a little bit in love with him.
She’d never felt like this before, never experienced the drop-away tummy, the hyperawareness of her body, the perpetual buzz making her eat less and smile more.
She should be glad she finally knew what love was, but could she have picked anyone less likely? They had absolutely zero chance of getting together, a fact she’d do well to remember when he tried to charm the pants off her.
