second of every day. Matt didn’t want her, didn’t love her and had never really trusted her. He hadn’t bothered to ring but she’d have blocked the call if he had. His throaty voice was implanted in her brain. She heard it every night as she lay alone in her single bed. Didn’t need to hear the reality and have her heart ripped apart even more.
‘I’m going to teach.’
Pete made a scoffing sound, and dropped down beside her on the sofa. ‘You’ll be bored and climbing the walls in a week. And the salary’s crap.’
‘Private lessons to adults. One on one showing them just the functions they want to use on their own personal computers. I’ve done it for friends, and they all said they knew people who’d pay for the service.’
‘You’ve thought it through? It’s really what you want?’
‘For now it’s what I need, Pete. Who knows what’s ahead?’
Nothing but memories and what-ifs for her. Her throat tightened—it seemed to do that a lot lately—her breath hitched, and she shivered.
In an instant she was wrapped in friendly arms, her head was cradled to his shoulder and his hand made soothing strokes over her back.
‘I’d like to find the guy who hurt you and feed the most destructive viruses I can find into his computer system. And him.’
She choked up at the thought of polite, pacifist Pete going into battle for her. She felt warm and cared for, knowing he meant it and that the others would back him up. They might not have Matt’s name or details of the breakup but he was now the enemy.
Easing away, she stood up and brushed off the few tears that had escaped.
‘Save your knight-in-armour mode for Jenny. He wasn’t completely to blame. He’d been betrayed by someone he trusted and circumstances showed me in a suspicious light.’
‘Loving means trusting.’
Which again proved Matt didn’t love her.
‘And the only way is forward. I’ll take each day as it comes.’
And hide my torment in the dark nights.
* * *
All Matt wanted to do was to cower in a dark corner and lick his wounds. Nothing he’d suffered before had prepared him for the gut-wrenching pain whenever he thought of her, which was almost every minute of every day. He lay awake remembering the nights they’d spent together, reached out for her in his restless sleep on the couch.
The sun was rising as he drove into the city on Monday, an unneeded reminder of last weekend. Telling himself he was better off without her had no effect. His brain kept repeating one word over and over. Why?
Mid-morning he brewed another mug of strong coffee, couldn’t bear to drink it in his office. Even with the connecting door shut, he kept glancing that way as if she’d suddenly appear. He walked to the boardroom because she’d never been in there but she came with him now, in his head and his heart. There was no escape.
On the way back, the lift doors opened as he went through Reception and Clair stepped out. Surprised by her tentative smile when she saw him, he walked over.
‘I didn’t expect to see you, Clair. You’re always welcome, of course.’
‘I had to come. Can we talk?’
Her apprehension triggered a kindred unease. That damn article? Duncan had already assured him the reporter’s insinuations hadn’t affected his opinion at all. There was nothing he wasn’t aware of and their association wouldn’t change. He was also convinced the people who mattered wouldn’t equate Marcus’s condition with Matt’s aptitude to run the company.
‘Of course, this way.’ He guided her to his office, and over to the window seats.
‘Coffee or tea?’
‘Not now. Please, Matt, sit down. This is personal and it concerns you.’
His gut tightened as he obeyed. Lauren? He’d told Duncan she’d returned to Sydney. Not why.
She fiddled with the handle of her bag then dropped it onto the floor. He leant forward and took her hand, shocked to feel its trembling.
‘What’s wrong, Clair? If there’s anything I can do, just ask.’
‘It’s the other way round, Matt. I came because I’m partly responsible for that reporter’s knowledge, limited though it was.’
‘You?’ He shook his head, couldn’t take it in. A chill seeped into his muscles and he dreaded hearing more.
‘Your mother came to our group lunch two weeks ago, first time for ages. We were chatting in a quiet corner and she began to tell me about her problems with your father and his deterioration. I should have suggested we talk later somewhere more private but she was desperate to let it all out.’
The chill became icy. Every cell in his body seemed to shrink and close down. He had a vague awareness of letting go of her hand, of his shoulders slumping.
‘She said your father kept telling her things she knew weren’t true or dropping hints about special funding for his secret hideaway retirement. She didn’t want to worry you or the family with his fantasies, just wanted someone to sympathise with her.’
His mother had confided in a friend because he’d built barriers between them. She’d been overheard and Lauren was innocent. The reporter had been trying to get confirmation or more details. It was as if he heard the facts but couldn’t process them through the fog in his head.
‘Duncan showed me the article, and this morning I found out the woman who wrote it had been at the venue. I noticed her hanging around, and assumed she was a guest. I’m so sorry, Matt.’
Oh, Lauren, what have I done?
Guilt and anguish raked him, his throat clogged, and his stomach heaved. Condemnation roared in his head. Sweat dripped down his back, and his fingers balled into fists.
‘Matt. Matt, are you all right?’
His mind cleared. Clair was leaning forward, regarding him with deep concern. He shuddered back to reality.
He’d listened to her, heard what she said. He hadn’t heard Lauren’s explanation because he hadn’t given her a chance to tell him.
‘No. I think I’ve made the worst, stupidest mistake of my life and I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.’
‘Lauren?’
He nodded, too ashamed to speak.
Clair patted his knee. ‘Go and tell her in those exact words. Lauren loves you, Matt, and we women in love can forgive our men almost anything if they love us too.’
Could they? Would Lauren, after his bitter accusations?
* * *
Lauren stared at the four family-sized pizza boxes and clutched her fingers in
