Screwing her courage to no place it would stick, she sent him an email about David’s offer. The email had him bounding up the stairs and in her visitor’s chair. She had an overwhelming urge to pretend to be invisible. Last time he’d been in her office, he’d humiliated her into leaving it.
Now he looked tired. He’d ditched his contacts for frameless glasses that made him look like a young history professor or a successful mystery writer. She didn’t have to like him to think he looked dead sexy. She knew he’d been working long hours, constantly in meetings, seeing clients and settling staff issues, making sure Tony Jones’ departure didn’t hurt the business. She also knew the rumblings against him had started to settle. There was more laughter around the place. More people staying for Friday night drinks.
“Did you speak to David? What’s he like?”
“An intelligent, engaging man. He is very keen to meet us.”
“What do you want to do?”
Aiden’s question made Bailey stop, she must have looked puzzled because he said, “It might be fun to meet him, but it might also be a wrench. That was a tough day. I’d understand if you didn’t want to revisit it.”
It hadn’t occurred to Bailey to think that way, but it occurred to her now Aiden was. He’d been a rock, clear headed, calm and decisive. He’d helped save a man’s life. It was hard for Bailey to imagine he might not want to celebrate that, but he wasn’t jumping at the chance either.
“I think we should go and meet him. I think it’s important to him.”
When Aiden got a faraway look in his eyes she knew she’d been right. He wasn’t keen to meet David. He switched his gaze from her face, to the window, to his hands lying along the tops of his thighs. That was more awkwardness than she’d seen in him since that first moment they’d sat opposite each other in the cafe with the weight of expectation of friendship on them and neither of them knowing what to say.
“Aiden, you don’t have to go. I can go on my own. I can make your excuses.”
“That would be good. It’s crazy around here, hard to get away.”
“I’ll let him know you were sorry not to meet him.”
He stood, hands still clasp to his thighs, eyes still lowered, gave her a half smile and left. The feeling that gnawed at her insides wasn’t hunger, it tasted surprisingly like disappointment.
27: Heavy
The frigging cat was heavy and so was his heart. Aiden was propped up in bed, going over the client portfolio. He should’ve been comfortable with how things were shaping up. The office was less like a war zone and people appeared to be relaxing, and despite his threats, Tony Jones hadn’t lured a single client or staff member to his side. He should’ve been happy about that.
He should have been asleep.
It was 2am and Chauncey was draped like a limp fur flag over his shins. Reviewing client projects was putting off the moment where he knew he should try lacking consciousness.
He should’ve been happy about Cody as well. He’d found the secret to relating to the kid. Money. As long as Aiden came up with jobs that paid Cody an hourly wage, the kid had promised to stop skipping school, doing a runner on taxis and engaging in acts of petty theft. Cody occasionally smiled. Mostly on payday, but still. He’d begun to wonder if he could pay Cody to do his homework and concentrate on learning stuff in class as well. It might be feasible. It would eventually put a dent in his bank balance. It was probably the worst kind of pseudo-parenting possible. He didn’t care.
And if he wasn’t happy about Cody he should have been ecstatic about Jas. She was sunshine wearing skin; hope on legs. She put her arms around his neck, sprinkled glitter in his hair and made him forget he was still dealing with the dirt at work and had holes in his life the size of dump trucks. It was impossible to be annoyed or distant or stuck in his own head when Jas was around, and right now that was every weekend.
Then there was Willow. Ever patient, never pressuring, pretty, helpful, loveable, and at his beck and call. It’s just that he rarely called, and when he did, all he knew how to deliver was too little or too much. He took her to great restaurants when she’d rather have a night at the local pub, to galleries when she’d have been happier watching TV. He sent her flowers when he cancelled dates, and bought her chocolates when he didn’t. All she wanted was to have him hold her and care for her, and she deserved to be loved—only not by him.
He should’ve been sleeping.
It was only seventeen hours till the dinner with David Millar. That was another thing to be happy about. David was well enough to invite him and Bailey to dinner, and Bailey was kind enough to want to go, and carry his apologies. He felt lousy for saying he wouldn’t go. It was something Cody might do. Bite the hand that offered to feed him. God forbid the kid was wearing off on him. It was possible he was going through the days scowling and he didn’t know it.
No, that couldn’t be happening, because if it was, Bailey would call him on it. She’d pick that one moment when he was rocking a scowl to come downstairs. She’d see that expression and turn her gorgeous big eyes away, but not quickly enough for him to miss her disappointment. That’s what he was to Bailey now, a disappointment.
He’d started out an urban legend, vastly over spruiked by Blake. Then, on his way to being fallibly real, via acquaintance, collegiality and possible friendship, he’d detoured through sudden life and death, lost the plot with required professional savagery, and fucked royally up by humiliating Bailey, and letting her think he was the kind of man who had a wife and a girlfriend.
He was a disappointment, when he’d wanted to be so much more substantial and involved. He’d felt a shocking and unfathomable attraction and turned it into distance and hesitation. He’d wanted to kiss Bailey when she was dental flossing his finger. He hadn’t kissed a woman, really kissed one in almost two years. But he’d wanted to kiss Bailey silly in the middle of her office while she was trying to remove his last physical link to Shannon without him losing a finger. And didn’t that feel like an act of bastardry.
Yeah, he’d kissed Willow, but those kisses where the adult equivalent to what Jas did to Chauncey. Quick. Furry. One sided. Without depth or skill. They barely registered. He might have been deleting an email or filling the car with petrol while he kissed Willow, that’s what a non-event it was.
He’d wanted to kiss Bailey till she melted into him, till she recognised him, till she needed him. He’d wanted to kiss Bailey until his senses were flooded with her and he forgot how to feel pain and loss.
He knew it was wrong to feel that way, to see her as healing, but the thought persisted even as Bailey’s sparkle dimmed whenever he was near.
He closed the file and eased his legs out from under Chauncey. It was 2.30am and his head should’ve been heavy, but it was his heart that was sinking. And to think he’d reasoned this way was better.
●
White Balance obviously had trouble sleeping too. The picture de jour was taken in the city, around the time birds considered waking. An eerie thick white fog enveloping the harbour basin, making it look like the bridge was floating, suspended on clouds. Behind its steel beams and struts, the sky was a palette of black and dark blue rising to pale apricot. The image was dramatic and spooky and as temporary the fairy floss Jas and Cody consumed at the Easter Show.
Aiden got out of bed and dressed. He drove the long way into the office, scooting down Macquarie Street, to see if the ocean had staged a re-appearance. He was rewarded with the sight of the last wisps of mist burning off. It was a spectacular new morning. He posted an Emily Dickinson quote, ‘I’ll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time’.
It was still early but someone had beaten him into the office, or pulled an all-nighter. None of his people were on the ground floor. He made coffee and hit the stairs, figuring Blake was getting a jump on the day. But Blake’s office was still dark, it was Bailey being early bird. Which made him the worm. And wasn’t that fitting.
He startled her when he app
eared in her doorway. “Sorry. How long have you been in?”
She glanced at her watch. “A little while.”
The morning would be perfect if only she’d smile. “Did you see the fog this morning? I get this photo every morning from a blogger. The harbour was all fogged out. I drove in to see it, it’s all gone now.”
She did smile—a perplexed little curve of her naturally lush red lips that hinted at incredulity, but it was a smile all the same. “A photo from a blogger?”
“Yep.”
“Every morning?”
“Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me out of bed. It’s a reminder the world is waiting.”
She said, “Oh,” on the edge of a laugh and followed it with a real smile that abandoned cynicism and gave him arched lips, perfect teeth and shining eyes. The fog had really lifted.
“You’re laughing at me.”
She held up her thumb and forefinger, a marshmallow’s width apart. This was playful Bailey, and the morning was more perfect still. He wanted to swim in its early light. What’s so funny about being inspired by great photography?”
“From a random blogger?” The incredulity was back, but there was breeziness in her voice. “Did Blake get you into it?”
“Blake? No. And you don’t have to be famous to have a lock on being creative.”
“Can I quote you next time one of my clients knocks my latest big idea?”
“You can call me round to beat sense into them.” He meant it as a joke, as a way of showing he had faith in her, but she read it differently, as a criticism of her abilities. The mist rose and stole her smile. She already thought he was a bully who had no faith in her with some justice, and he’d just planted a spanking new suggestion of it in her mind. He went to leave before he could make things worse. “Enjoy dinner tonight.”
He didn’t make it out the door before she said, “You should be there. It’s rude not to accept David’s invitation.”
Was he imagining it or did the temperature in the room plummet? He turned back. “Do you want me to come?”
“I don’t care what you do.” Nothing foggy about that.
“You’re right. Is it too late for me to go?”
“I’ll call David and find out.”
By lunchtime she’d emailed him to say David was delighted. He emailed back offering a lift to the restaurant. She declined. He buried himself in the day and tried not to resent David Millar or worry about how he was going to get through the evening without antagonising Bailey, snarling at David, or falling asleep at the table.
He was late to the restaurant. A whole chaff bag of reluctance camouflaged as work keeping him in the office past the time he should’ve been in his car and on his way. He found Bailey and David in the bar. He’d have given anything to swap the expressions on their faces. David lit up like musical birthday candles, Bailey glowered like banked embers.
There was a meaty hand thrust out and a solid grip. “Mate, so glad you could come. Even gladder you saved my life.”
David Millar upright and animated was a cross between the Eveready Bunny and The Lion King, a blend of high energy and quick wit with majesty and insight. Worse luck. He really wanted to celebrate. He wanted to know all about them and he was evidently used to getting his own way.
“Bailey tells me you did all the heavy lifting.”
He flashed a look at Bailey but she avoided eye contact, sipping her cocktail. “I made a few phone calls. Bailey was the one who kept you conscious.”
David spun on his bar stool to look at her. “How did you do that?”
“I talked to you that’s all.” It was either a reflection off a bottle of pink gin or Bailey was embarrassed.
“Did I answer you?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t remember any of it. I knew I was on the ground and I wasn’t alone. I had a sense that I was being cared for.”
Aiden had only just arrived so it was too early, and too childish to pull a stunt like needing to make a call, but he was sorry he’d let Bailey guilt him into being here, and had to bite down on his resentment.
“That was all Bailey, David. She knew what to do to keep you anchored. I hung around and kept you both company.”
Bailey leaned around David. “You did more than that.” There was a scold in her expression because he wasn’t playing nice.
“You’re both being modest. I wouldn’t be here without either of you. I want to know all about you. My saviours. My wife will never forgive me if I don’t bring all the news home. She has a migraine or she’d be here. Tell me, you work together?”
Aiden let Bailey take the lead. He sipped his designer beer and tried not to count off the seconds. He should’ve gone to the gym before he came, it would’ve taken the edge off this. Two beers in quick succession might help. He was on the tail end of the second when David said, “But you’re friends as well as colleagues?”
He couldn’t be sure if Bailey knocked her drink over on purpose or it was a classic saved by the bell moment. Whatever. It made her jump back, made a barman flourish a towel, and David decide it was time to move to their table. When they were settled, he made it obvious he’d not lost any brain matter. He repeated his question like a good Eveready Bunny. This time Bailey used her words.
“We’d only met that day and we still don’t know each other well.” Judicious words.
“Oh my gosh. Maryanne is going to love this. We’re going to fix that right now!”
David was doing a tennis match head move, from Bailey to him and back again, all excited about the play. He’d end up disappointed to learn love all didn’t happen off the court. David served Bailey questions. Was she married? How did she come to work at Heed? Why did she start her own business? What did she do with her spare time? Around her answers he worked the menu, chose wine, not letting either of them select, but checking on their preferences first. Aiden felt Bailey’s amusement. It was such a Blake thing to do, without the checking part. When David excused himself to visit the bathroom, Bailey rounded on him.
“Could you possibly be any more like a bear with a sore head?”
“What do you mean?” which came out much like a bear with migraine.
“Relax, would you. He’s a nice man. We did an amazing thing to save him. Get over yourself.”
That again. Easier said than done. But why did he agree to come if he couldn’t suck it up? He could at least try to be more gracious.
David arrived back as the entree was being placed on the table, which gave cover to the fact he and Bailey weren’t talking, but didn’t stop David looking quizzical. “What did I miss?”
She said, “Shop talk, nothing important,” and gave him a smile that could make a man believe night didn’t follow day. From the way David beamed back at her, Aiden hoped he’d be left to focus on the food while they did the sparkling repartee. That illusion lasted two mouthfuls.
“So, Aiden, are you married?” Now it was his turn to do the tennis head thing. It was impossible to guess who was more interested in his answer. He should say no. It was none of David’s business, and it would effectively end the line of questioning. He could say no, and it would cement Bailey’s hatred for him. He could say no, but it was the worst kind of cowardice. Suck hard.
“I was married.” Bailey stiffened beside him. He could stop there. It was enough of an answer, but he could suck harder. “My wife died two years ago.”
It was like he’d dropped very heavy words from a great height. They appeared to smash down on the table with a force that shook the room, snuffed out the tea-lights and rattled the dinnerware. He heard Bailey exhale and her hand shot out for her glass.
David said, “Oh I am sorry. I don’t mean to pry but so young, how did she die?”
“It was an accident.” Another good place to stop, but why hold back? “Much like yours, David.” No reason now not to let it all hang out. “But there was no one around to help her. If there had been, she’d still be alive.”
/> David’s face paled instantly and Bailey analysed her lap. He’d been aiming for punishment, relief, a face slap, a stick-it-up-them gesture, he got all that. He felt like a dickhead.
“I am sorry. Excuse me.” He dumped his napkin on the table, pushed his chair back and left the room. At the bar he ordered a Scotch neat and downed it in two swallows. He hated Scotch. It hated beer and wine. He turned to go back into the restaurant to repair the damage and found Bailey standing behind him looking bewildered, as though he’d aimed his anger right at her, and found the spot to hurt her most.
She’d changed from her office garb into a dress, hot pink and white, a simple elegant shift that emphasised her femininity. She didn’t say anything, she held out her hand and at a loss what to do next, he took it and they went back to the table.
She held his hand under the table and didn’t let go until the main meal arrived. Then she angled her chair closer as though to give him comfort, to take the sting away while David told him how sorry he was, how grateful he was, and Aiden apologised again and again, and changed the subject, talked about Cody and Jas, and how they’d come to be in his life.
It was such a little thing, having Bailey close, having her smile her natural order changing smile at him, but it helped immensely. He felt his anger drain away. He found he could listen to what David said without resenting him, join in the conversation without choking on bile, and enjoy the meal without seeing it as an offering to whatever deity decided David was worth saving and Shannon wasn’t.
By dessert he was laughing. He’d drunk more than he should have, way more than he normally did, he’d need to leave his car behind, but it wasn’t the alcohol making him feel lighter, it was Bailey.
That barrier of awkwardness and distrust that had grown between them had a hole battered in it by the truth. And she was reaching through the confusion and spoiled expectations to soothe him. She wasn’t looking at him with dislike any more. She wasn’t dodging his glance or spitting her words, or calling him on his dodgy behaviour. She played her finger over the dip left behind by his wedding ring, and it wasn’t a comment on his ruthless, two-timing, but an expression of sympathy.
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