Groaning, I rolled over and reached for my phone to text Byron. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d arrived, and he was probably worried.
Ellie: Hey. Arrived safely. How are you?
Byron: I assumed you did. Been busy preparing for lectures. How are you?
Ellie: I’m good. It’s nice to be home.
Byron: How’d the meeting go?
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. He didn’t know about Connor; no one in Darwin did. So I lied until I could think of a better explanation.
Ellie: Fine. There’s more to hash out though.
Byron: Sounds promising. Keep me informed.
Ellie: Of course.
Byron: Okay. Sorry, Elle, but I gotta go or I’ll be up all night xo
I sent him an x and an o back then returned my phone to the bedside table. It hummed another message, which made me smile, no doubt a tardy ‘Love you. Sleep tight’. But I found instead was a text from an unknown number.
My smile faltered.
Unknown: Please have dinner with me, Fiery McBlonde Head.
Fiery McBlonde Head? What the hell? I read it again, knowing instantly that it had come from Connor, because no one on earth would call me such a thing and think it endearing. How the hell did he get my number?
Jackson instantly sprung to mind. He was his agent after all. Damn it, Connor, you sneaky, meddlesome, McShithead.
Pursing my lips, they lifted when the perfect response pinged into my mind.
Ellie: Sorry. Wrong number.
Connor: Nice try.
Ugh! The gall of him. I decided not to reply.
Connor: Lunch, tomorrow, as friends?
I shook my head.
Connor: Please. We at least owe each other that.
Maybe we did, but I wasn’t convinced. I also knew he wouldn’t let up unless I shut him down for good.
Ellie: Just stop. Wounds never heal if you continue to bust them open.
Connor: Wrong. Wounds won’t heal until you’ve first acknowledged they’re there and can treat them.
I scoffed at his response; my wounds were acknowledged and permanently bandaged.
Ellie: Trust me, I know they’re there.
Connor: Then let’s address them.
Ellie: Thanks, but I already have.
Connor: Not together we haven’t.
My finger tapped the phone, but I didn’t press any of the buttons, which was when it rang and scared the absolute crap out of me.
Fumbling, I pressed accept, my voice low so as not to wake Mum or Dad who were asleep in the next room.
“Hello?”
The sweet sound of an acoustic guitar filtered through the earpiece followed by Connor’s voice singing a song I knew all too well.
The wind blows through this
And I don’t want to miss
A second of your time
And I will wait here for all of this life, darlin’.
Oh darlin’.
My dreams will fade away
If you choose not to stay, darlin’
You’re my ever after.
How long?
Only if there’s time.
You’re my ever after.
I know.
Only if it’s right.
So come here and see the truth
And you’ll know that it’s all for you, oh darlin’.
His soulful tune dissipated with his voice until all that was left was his breathing and mine, one of us inhaling, the other breathing out.
“I like how you added the ‘Oh darlin’s’,” I admitted, quietly. “They’ve improved metering and bridged your verses and choruses really well. They also add a sense of intimacy to the story.”
“Thanks. I couldn’t make ‘oh baby’ work.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the humour in his voice. “Of course you couldn’t. The phrasing is mismatched.”
“See? This is why I want to work with you, Ellie. You know me and my music. You know what works and what doesn’t.”
“And that’s exactly why I know it won’t work.”
“It can if you give it a try.”
“Connor, I can’t …”
“Can’t or won’t?”
I bit my lip and massaged my temples. “Both.”
“Look, don’t make any concrete decisions just yet. We’ll discuss it more tomorrow over lunch. I’ll pick you up at midday.”
“Connor, no—” The dial tone echoed in my ear before I could refuse him again. “Damn it,” I said, tossing the phone beside me.
Fine. We would have lunch, we would make peace, and that was it. No love. No laughter. And definitely no working together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor
“Thank fuck for that,” I muttered, knees buckling as I slumped to the couch and cradled my head in my hands. No matter what it took: tricks, games, bribery … a blatant disregard for her wishes, I would convince her to collaborate with me. Ellie was the final and perfect part of my debut album.
“Daddy said bad word.”
Peeking through my fingers, I glanced over at Max sitting on his play mat, his little hands buried in a tub of Matchbox cars. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Naughty Daddy.” His pointer finger shot out like a spear of judgement. “You go to the corner.”
I tried not to smile as I pushed up from the couch, black leather crying out under the weight of my six foot four frame, before I trudged across the living room to the naughty corner.
“Free minutes,” Max said, holding up three fingers.
“Okay. You gonna count?”
“Yep.”
Max counted to three—over and over—while I faced the wall and smiled. Photos of years gone by hung on hooks in front of me; my favourite, a black and white shot of Max in hospital the day he was born, swaddled in a blanket, my finger lightly grazing his tiny button nose. Mum and Dad were laughing in another photo with Max suspended in the air, his toddler face one of pure delight as Dad tossed him repeatedly. And then there was the shot of Lilah, Max, and I, professionally posed on a picnic rug, a picture perfect portrait of a young, happy family—a portrait of a lie.
Scanning the colourful, autumn picture, I’d known then like I know now that we’d never be happy. A family, yes, but more so two people who’d come together because we loved our son more than we loved ourselves or anyone else. We’d put Max first because, to us, he was more important: his life … his start in the world. We’d owed it to him to be there, together, so we were, but not really.
But after trying to make our relationship work for the sake of Max, we both decided we were fighting a battle we would never win, not for us and certainly not for the little boy who deserved the very best in life. And that didn’t include a mummy and daddy who yelled more than they spoke, who slammed doors instead of holding hands, and who only spent time together as a smokescreen for anyone who cared to take notice, which was exactly what that picture encapsulated. It was a mum and dad who loved their son but who were pretending to love each other when they didn’t and never would. Oddly enough, it was still one of my favourites, perhaps because I wanted to believe the lie that had cost me everything.
But I wouldn’t change having Max for anything. I loved him as much as a father could love his child, and then some. His tiny hand in mine. Mashed pumpkin on the floor. Getting up every day at dawn. I loved every second and counted down the days until it was my turn to pick him up from kinder to do it all over again. Max was my life, and even though I’d lost Ellie to have him, he’d been the perfect result of a mistake I was destined to make.
“Onnnnnnne. Twooooooooo. Free,” he chanted, for possibly the tenth time.
“Can I leave now?” I asked, twisting to look at him.
He shook his head and smashed two cars together. “No.”
“But you counted to three.”
“Five minutes.”
“FIVE!”
My midnight-haired little devil giggled and
nodded his head.
“You can’t change it to five, you rascal,” I said, launching after him and growling like a scary monster.
He screamed, jumped to his feet, and ran behind the couch. “You can’t catch me. You can’t catch me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You can’t catch me.”
Little did my Maxey know that I would always catch him—when he ran, when he hid, when he teased, and when he fell. It was my job to be there no matter what. That’s what dads were for.
Springing over the arm of the couch, I secured him in my hands and lifted him above my head, careful not to donk his head against the ceiling. “Gotcha.”
“Do the plane, Dad. Do the plane,” he pleaded, his uncontrollable giggles the sweetest music to my ears.
“Okay.” I cleared my voice and prepared him for takeoff. “This is your captain speaking. We are about to take off and fly to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Then we will fly to bed, our final destination. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Set?”
His arms shot out like wings, his body as stiff as a board. “Go, go go!”
Soaring high and low, I flew him one lap around the living room, a sharp turn into the hallway and another into the bathroom where I dove him to sit on the basin, toothbrush, and toothpaste waiting.
He picked up the brush and held it out, so I squeezed the paste on it and guided it into his mouth.
“I on’t want oo seep,” he mumbled, white frothy bubbles spilling down his chin.
“You don’t want to sleep?”
He shook his head.
“But you have to. And so does Daddy. I have a big day tomorrow.”
“I.”
“Why? Because I have to persuade a very special person to help Daddy make some songs.”
His eyes lit up, and he wiggled his tiny bum.
I laughed. “Yes, songs, but it’s not time for dancing. You can dance tomorrow, with Mummy.”
“Ummy?”
“Yep. It’s Mummy’s turn to pick you up from kinder.”
“Ummy!” He clapped.
“Okay, spit.”
Max turned around and spat his toothpaste in the sink, his aim far from successful. I didn’t mind, though, us boys were supposed to be messy. And I’d clean it up later, ready to start all over again next week. Why? Because I was a single dad with the best kid in the world.
Leaves crunched and crackled under my tyres as I pulled up alongside the curb at Ellie’s house and killed the engine of my truck. Chestnut trees lining the street had been stripped of their colourful spring and summer attire, hues of green, yellow, orange and red now blanketing the footpath and road below. I trembled, feeling just as naked and exposed as the bare branches shivering in the wind. What if she says no? What if she refuses to open the damn door?
Glancing up at her house through the passenger side window, the pit of my stomach swirled like a tornado. Memories of times spent there as teenagers flicked across my mind. Familiarity. Sorrow. Regret. Each emotion twisted around the other, and I felt as if it were only yesterday that I’d walked up those very steps for the millionth time and knocked on her door, ready to go inside to just chill and be together. But it also felt like another lifetime, or a dream.
“She better bloody be here,” I murmured to myself, not in the least bit surprised if she’d packed her bags overnight and hightailed her stubborn arse back to the airport first thing this morning just to avoid seeing and speaking to me. After the surprise I’d sprung on her yesterday, it was a very likely scenario.
Quickly hiding Max’s empty juice boxes and chip packets in my glovebox, I got out of the car, stretched my legs, and smoothed my hair back before turning and rounding my car where I stopped in my tracks.
“Shit! Hi,” I said, startled by Ellie standing there and waiting for me.
Bright red material clung tightly to her perfect tits, her shoulders exposed, denim crop jeans a second skin accentuating her arse. I swallowed and went to loosen a tie around my neck that wasn’t even there, instead scratching my throat like a dog with fleas. She looked hot, and tall, which I soon realised was due to a pair of shoes with really thick soles.
“I didn’t agree to this,” she admonished, her hands on her hips just like she used to do when we were kids.
It made me smile.
“And don’t do that,” she added, pointing to my face.
“What? Smile?”
“Yes.”
I laughed and leaned against the door of my car, arms crossed over my chest. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
Her defensive posture sagged, and she brought her psychedelic notebook close to her chest. “Oh, I’ve definitely changed, Connor.”
“Well, yeah, your hair has.”
She fingered a long, blonde curl. “Not just the hair.”
I knew what she was trying to say because, I, too, had changed. I’d lost everything while gaining something else. I’d let go of the love of my life and found a new one—Max. A transition such as that definitely changed a person.
Fighting the urge to untangle her finger and replace it with my own, I opened the passenger door to my truck and cleared my throat instead. “Shall we?”
She peered inside and hesitated, as if she were an unsure child deliberating a ride from a stranger.
“If I offered candy, would that help?”
“No,” she snapped. “That’s not funny.”
“Okay okay. Lighten up. I just want to take you out to lunch and discuss us working together. That’s all.”
It wasn’t all, but she didn’t need to know that … yet.
Once again gesturing with my hand for her to sit, I smiled, dimples popping, hoping they’d seal the deal. “Please?”
Her cheeks mirrored the red of her top, and she rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Fine.”
Ellie climbed into my truck and waged war against my seat belt when it wouldn’t budge. It was incredibly adorable, and if it weren’t for the fact that I feared for the safety of the black strap and the vehicle it was bolted to, I would’ve held back my chuckling and continued to watch.
“Here, let me,” I offered, reaching forward.
I placed my hand over hers and held it still, slowly guiding the seat belt across her chest to clip it in by her side. Our breaths caught, our eyes locked, our faces mere centimetres apart.
She swallowed and diverted her gaze. “Thanks, but I can handle it from here.”
Seizing the moment before it was gone, I scanned her beautiful face to my memory before stepping back and closing the door. And as I made my way around to the back of the truck, I exhaled and slapped my palm over my heart to once again restart it.
It hadn’t beat this erratic in four years, and that was long overdue.
“If you think pizza is going to sway my decision in your favour, Connor Bourke, you’re wrong,” Ellie huffed. She snatched a menu from my hands.
“Their Meatlovers is the best, just sayin’.”
Leaning back in my seat, I bit back a smile and waved over the owner, Anthony. For a Tuesday afternoon, the restaurant was unusually quiet, and I couldn’t be happier. It was perfect.
“Ahh, if it isn’t my favourite customer,” Anthony greeted, his Italian accent heavy. “You keep me in business, yes?”
I laughed. “I doubt I’m the only one.”
“This is true. This is true.” His bushy, hooded eyes flicked toward Ellie then back to me. “So what can I get you both today, eh?”
“Anthony, this is Eloise. We grew up together. In fact, we used to eat here a lot before you bought the business.”
He pursed his lips and offered his hand to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Bella. I have much to live up to then, yes?”
Ellie’s eyes glittered fondly. “I’m sure I will love your food. Connor speaks very highly of your pizza.”
“Ahh, well, he does eat it nearly every day.”
“Every day?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide with surprise.<
br />
I shook my head. “He’s exaggerating. I don’t eat it every day.”
Anthony pointed to a booth by the window, the closest to the play area. “That spot over there belongs to Connor and Maxey.”
Embarrassment burned my cheeks. The last thing I wanted Ellie to think was that my son and I only ever ate takeout, or that I couldn’t cook. I could, for the most part, and I did … maybe three out of the seven days in a week.
But she didn’t say anything. She just gave Anthony a small smile and diverted her gaze back to her menu, and I wondered if the mention of Max made her feel uncomfortable. I hoped that wasn’t the case.
“We’ll take a large Meatlovers and a garlic bread, please,” I blurted.
Anthony nodded and sheepishly held his hands behind his back. “Certainly. And drinks?”
“Two Cokes,” I added just as Ellie opened her mouth to say what I knew would be Coke.
Anthony nodded a second time and then headed toward the kitchen.
“Bit presumptuous of you to order for me, don’t you think?” She put down her menu and unfolded her napkin before laying it across her lap.
“Did you want something else?”
She shook her head.
“Then, no, I don’t think it presumptuous.” I linked my fingers and rested them at the back of my head. “Not if I know what you like.”
“Liked,” she said, emphasizing the past tense. “What I like has changed since I last saw you.”
Unspoken Words Page 18
