of Tom’s clean shirt before pulling away.
‘You’re getting thrashed out there, mate.’
Sebastian grinned. ‘You think you can do better? You join us.’
Tom held up his palms in defeat. ‘No, thanks. I’ve got this bad knee, remember.’
Sebastian raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Melinda told me all about that. Didn’t you walk into the coffee-table? Three weeks ago?’
‘That table has a really sharp corner.’
‘Fine.’ Sebastian turned and watched Chris weaving across the field, the ball in his possession again. ‘You’re just lucky you’ve got me around to make sure your kids get the exercise they need.’
‘Sure, mate. Sure. Hey, Melinda told me today was D-day. Divorce day, right?’
‘Yep.’ The easy smile swiftly melted from Sebastian’s face. He kicked at a tuft of grass on the edge of the field.
‘So what did she get?’ Tom grabbed Sebastian by the arm, the slick sweat coating him suddenly of no importance. ‘You’d better not have given her the beach house. Melinda and I promised the kids a week there this summer.’
‘She would never have even asked for the beach house.’
Tom’s raised eyebrows showed he disagreed. ‘I think you proved you were the last one to know what Janet might or might not do to get what she wants.’
Sebastian shrugged. ‘Anyway, she got plenty.’ Tom let loose with a great laugh. ‘For a girl who seemed easy come, easy go, she sure turned out to have a killer streak.’
‘So we now know. But this wasn’t Janet. This was the lawyer.’
The lawyer. So much for pushing her to the back of his mind. The instant action replay running constantly through his mind all afternoon, and frustrating him to distraction, had been all about the lawyer. Long legs, startling eyes, and that hair. And most of all the cutting accusations about his lifestyle she had flung at him with such vigour. He’d been brandished a playboy before. And even a cad. And maybe with good reason. But the lawyer had labelled him ‘a neurotic caveman for whom women were merely bandages for his over-inflated ego’. And that had been rough.
‘Must have been a real hot-shot,’ Tom said, thankfully drawing Sebastian back to the comparative comfort of his current surrounds. ‘What’s his name?’
‘ Her name is Romy Bridgeport.’
Tom stopped laughing though his grin went from full-screen to wide-screen. ‘You poor fellow. A couple of guys at work have been on the losing end of her counsel. But I thought if any guy had a chance against her charms it would have been you. She must be really something. Was she the man-hater I heard she is?’
‘Well, I don’t think she liked me much.’
‘No? But I thought they all liked you, what with you being so cute and all.’
Tom reached out and gave Sebastian’s cheeks a rough pinch. Sebastian playfully slapped his hands away. But he did not feel so playful.
It was true. She had not liked him one bit. She had not even tried to hide the fact for civility’s sake. Yet despite it all he had been patently attracted to her. Attracted physically went without saying, but it was her vitality that kept him engaged even after she let fly with her unremitting accusations.
‘Apparently she is engaged to some American,’ Tom said, again dragging Sebastian back to the present. ‘How ironic—a divorce lawyer getting married. You’d think she would be cynical about the whole deal.’
Sebastian did not remember seeing a sparkling diamond. But he had been blindsided by the significance behind the adorably short fingernails, so maybe… ‘Engaged to an American, you say?’
‘Mmm. Thing is, from what I’ve heard nobody has ever seen the guy or if they have they are keeping quiet about it. Maybe it’s all a diversionary tactic to fend off hot-from-the-oven divorcees. Don’t even think about it, I’m engaged.’
Sebastian looked up as a yell of glory erupted from the other end of the field. One of his team had scored a try. He looked back to Tom and shuffled from one foot to the other, itching to get back to the game.
‘Saved by the yell,’ Tom said. ‘Go on, then. Get back out there. But I want details. Come for dinner and stay over tonight?’
‘Fine,’ Sebastian conceded as he ran backwards onto the field. ‘Tell Melinda I’ll be there at seven.’
Romy stumbled into her apartment-building foyer after ten o’clock. She had spent the evening with her divorced-singles group, with once battered wives, with cheated-on husbands, with a woman she had comforted in a quiet corner, and with a pair who had the amazing news that they had become engaged…to one another! They were serious people looking for serious relationships, and if Romy knew anything about anything, she knew about that.
She shuffled into the antiquated lift, pulled the doors shut and endured the interminable ride to her top-floor apartment. Rhythmic creaks and groans took the place of the electronic music you would find in most modern apartment-building lifts. In an atypical fit of whimsy she had picked the apartment for the beautiful restored lift with its open-cage design, and she’d had to endure its resultant slowness and periodic breakdowns ever since. That would teach her!
Once home she checked her answering machine. Her parents had sent their weekly ‘hello’ in duet. She could not remember the last time she had spoken to one and not the other. They were the most devoted couple she had ever come across, still deeply in love after thirty perfect years.
She called them back, and hooked the phone beneath her chin as she prepared herself a light snack.
‘Hey, Mum.’
‘Hey, baby. I saw you on TV tonight. The Press conference. With that lovely Janet Hockley. Will she continue to make those aerobic videos, do you think?’
Romy chomped on a celery stick. ‘She made them before her marriage and during her marriage so I wouldn’t think she would suddenly stop now.’
‘Oh, good. I was thinking of buying the next one for your father for Christmas. It seems he doesn’t mind the exercise so long as there’s a cute young thing to show him how to do it. And I’ve hit the point that I’m willing to let him do anything so long as his cholesterol comes down.’
Romy set up her picnic on the small round table by the kitchen.
‘And did you get to meet that husband of hers?’
‘I did.’
‘And was he the stud the magazines say he is?’
Her mind wandered to the image of him walking from office to lift. Throughout the day it had transformed into slow motion and sepia. Now her mother had unfortunately relocated that image to Sebastian walking through a stable, rake in hand, shining with sweat…She fought the urge to dislodge the looped vision from her mind with a sharp slap across the cheek.
‘Not that I witnessed first-hand.’
Her
