The excitement had been contagious. Her head spun, whether from the buzz of the crowd or the shock of discovering the thrill of the game overrode her inhibitions, she wasn’t sure. As if tied to Kaye with invisible bonds, she’d found herself leaping to her feet and calling out phrases she’d never spoken, hadn’t known she’d memorised.
Matt was grinning as if he’d been the star forward. Not a smug, I-told-you-so smile; he was genuinely happy for her. Had she been wrong all her life or was she seeing everything through new eyes? And if she had changed because she loved him, why couldn’t he love her for the person he was helping her to become?
* * *
Monday afternoon Matt decided to grab a chicken wrap on the way back from the bank. Funny how easily he’d adapted to healthier meals and salads. Not funny that in a week he’d be eating alone again.
Lauren. His pulse hiked up, and he quickened his pace as he saw her opening the door of a café across the street. He halted when she spoke to the dark-haired woman entering behind her. She hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone.
By the time he’d crossed at the lights and walked along, they were seated at a table studying menus. An old friend she’d caught up with? He wouldn’t disturb them; she’d tell him over dinner tonight.
She didn’t. She was quiet and withdrawn, claiming fatigue and a headache. Concerned, he persuaded her to take a tablet and go to bed. In the morning he left her sleeping.
Tuesday was no different. She blamed it on the current autumn virus and he had to admit she looked unwell, though she didn’t cough or sneeze. Was she depressed thinking of the shrinking time they had left? That he understood.
He’d never considered a cross-country romance. There’d never been a reason to. The idea of seeing Lauren only on weekends was gut-wrenching but better than not being with her at all. Would she be prepared to try?
* * *
Alan’s text came through as he was driving to work Wednesday morning, and he read the short, concise message in the lift. Apprehensive, and with fingers tapping his desk, he accessed the online morning papers. The small article tucked away in one of the business sections sent his world crashing in flames.
Names weren’t mentioned but anyone with determination and knowledge of the company or his father could identify them. Obscure hints were made of illness, legalities and the long-term viability of the business. His temper rose as he researched the reporter, found her profile and photo.
And his fragile faith was obliterated in a torrent of bitterness, far worse than all the other betrayals combined. This was the woman Lauren had been with on Monday, the reason for her reticence since.
She was one of the very few who had knowledge of his father’s dementia and fraud. What reason could there be for meeting that woman? Why?
His chest heaved, and anger ruled as he reached for his keys. Threw them down, snatched up his mobile, and paced the floor until Lauren answered.
‘Matt?’
Diffident and wary. Guilty?
‘Who was the woman you were with on Monday?’ Grated out without polite niceties.
Her quick gasp sharpened his pain. Her silence exacerbated his temper.
‘She’s a damn reporter. What did you tell her?’
‘You...I’m...’
‘Lost for words, Lauren. What am I? A magnet for cheats and liars? Dad, Christine, and now you? Do you have any idea what I...? No, you wouldn’t. I can’t bear to see you. Don’t want to hear your voice.’
He hung up, tossed his phone on the coffee table and sank into a chair, burying his head into his hands. This was it. He’d never fully trust anyone again.
LAUREN CURLED UP on his settee, buried her head into his cushion and sobbed at his tirade. How could he believe she’d break her promise?
Idiot, stupid, stupid idiot. She hadn’t realised the woman was a reporter until she’d begun to ask about Marcus. Fearing he might be annoyed that she’d been duped into the conversation, she hadn’t told him. Things the woman had hinted she knew could only have come from one of the select few people he trusted implicitly.
He hadn’t said what the reporter had claimed to know, only accused her of telling family secrets, and she had no way of proving her innocence. Maybe if she had been truthful with him he’d be looking for the real culprit. Instead he’d condemned her without even seeing her, proof his caring had been superficial.
She rubbed the tears from her cheeks, and went to wash her face with a cold flannel. The red-eyed wreck in the mirror gave her no choice.
She loved him so she’d make it easier for him. He didn’t want to see her so she wouldn’t be here when he came home. She booked a flight, packed her belongings and called a taxi.
* * *
Matt hadn’t needed his cousin’s harsh rebuke over the phone to know he’d been wrong to call her in anger. Personal confrontation when he could see her eyes and read her expression would have been better. Didn’t change the reality. Or did it?
Alan had rung to say he’d done what Matt should have—checked and found out the reporter was ambitious, and not particularly scrupulous in her methods of obtaining information.
He couldn’t postpone the morning’s scheduled meeting though he came close to doing just that. It was crucial to the company’s survival, especially after today’s media article. With the prospect of legal proceedings giving him motivation, he blocked Lauren from his mind and went to the boardroom to fight for his and the company’s future.
He deliberately stayed late at the office, arriving home to a dark and silent unit. Refusing to acknowledge the sour churning in his gut, he walked in.
I can’t bear to see you. Don’t want to hear your voice.
His words echoed in his head. He sagged against the door jamb leading to the kitchen area. The table was bare. The vase had gone. Lauren had gone.
* * *
Lauren had never felt more alone. She ached for Matt’s smile, his spine-tingling touch, and his midnight-blue eyes that could make her pulse race from across a room. She even missed his cajoling her to reassess her relationship with her family.
Knowing he believed she’d betrayed him tore her apart. Knowing she had unconditional support from her friends held her together. Whatever they suspected, they’d never push, would give her all the time she needed until she was ready to confide in them.
On Wednesday night, she cried herself to sleep, reliving his caresses, his kisses. The passion they’d shared. On Thursday she wandered aimlessly for hours, stopping only for drinks and an occasional snack. On Friday morning she went to see her employer and resigned. When she got back to the units, Pete was home so she told him.
‘You can’t, Lauren. You’re the best. You love digging out the solutions where others have failed.
