been helping me so much if you’re not interested? You want me to do well—why don’t you want to be there to see if it happens?’
He turned, irritable. ‘It’s just sex between us, Sophy—some down and dirty release. It’s what you wanted, remember? You can’t go changing it now.’
‘I’m not.’ Her voice rose. ‘You’ve already changed it. You were the one who took me away for the weekend. You’re the one doing these things for me.’
‘That was just so you could get your work done. You were so busy doing everything for everyone else. I thought it was a good way for you to catch up.’
‘And that’s not showing you care about me—not even just a little?’ She held her breath.
He went utterly still. ‘Nothing special, Sophy, no.’
She flinched but forced herself to take a step closer. ‘And there was nothing in that weekend for you? Nothing special?’
He stared at the floor, answered with inhuman control. ‘No.’ He lifted his head sharply, like a beast sensing blood. ‘Now don’t get upset.’
‘How can I not when you say there’s nothing special?’ He was denying everything—denying her, denying himself and above all denying the truth. She couldn’t stop the hurt brimming in her eyes as she cried, ‘You’re lying to me, Lorenzo. And you’re lying to yourself.’
‘No. I’m being honest.’
She clutched the back of a chair. Was he? Being brutal to be kind? She stared at his rigid body, his masklike face. ‘I don’t believe you are.’
‘It’s just sex, Sophy.’ His mouth moved, but his eyes were like dull stones. ‘Just a tawdry affair that no one need ever know about.’
‘You really think that?’
‘We have nothing in common. We’re good at screwing, that’s all.’
She blanched at his crudeness. They didn’t screw—she didn’t just bang him for the momentary thrill. She’d made love to him—again and again. She had offered everything inside herself to him—wordlessly at least, on more than one occasion.
But she wasn’t going to offer it again now—not in the face of such determined denial and such cold anger. No—she had very little left in her right now, but she did have that last drop of dignity. ‘Then if that’s all it is, Lorenzo, you won’t mind that it’s over.’
She walked past his stock-still figure and straight down the stairs.
SOPHY slowly buttoned the royal blue nineteen-forties vintage frock she’d found in an exclusive retro store earlier in the week. She pushed out the fantasy she’d had about twirling in it in front of Lorenzo. She spent ages on her face, going with forties style make-up to match—full foundation, lush red lips. She breathed slowly to try to check her nerves.
She’d spent half the afternoon in the theatre foyer setting up the display, had received gratifying comments from the staff there about her designs. But they weren’t the people who mattered. She was going to those people now. It was only a ten minute walk to her parents’ home in the heart of Auckland; they were going to the theatre together from there.
‘I’m looking forward to the movie. It’s had great reviews,’ her mother chatted, oblivious to Sophy’s stress.
Of course, they didn’t even realise the exhibition was on in the foyer. Sophy clutched her purse, trying to hide the way her fingers were shaking as her father drove them. Her heart raced. This wasn’t good. She’d even done a Lorenzo and gone for a run earlier—too bad if her cheeks were still flushed from it, she’d needed to burn off some of the adrenalin. But she might as well have not bothered. Her body felt wired, on fire, yet she was cold to the bone. She wanted the movie to start—not have a whole hour of the pre-drinks to get through with her stupid baubles on show. But her parents were only too willing to relax, quietly chatting in the foyer to friends and generally acting like the reserved pillars of society that they were. How had she ever thought this was a good idea?
Her brother and sister were already there. And it was her sister and sister-in-law who pointed out the gleaming display cabinets of vintage inspired jewellery to her and her mother.
‘What do you think of them?’ That was her sister-in-law, Mina.
‘I love this one—look at it, Soph, it’s just gorgeous,’ Victoria said.
‘Are you okay, Sophy? You’ve gone all pale.’ Her brother, Ted, stared at her. ‘Now you’re gone all red.’
‘I’m fine,’ she squeaked.
Her mother turned to look at her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Mmm hmm.’ She nodded, not bothering to try to talk more.
‘This one would really suit you.’ Mina, her sister-in-law, hadn’t been paying attention. ‘It would go beautifully with your eyes.’ She was looking at the blue necklace she’d made in Hanmer.
Ted, her brother—the one with the IQ too high for anyone’s good—had picked up one of the business cards on the table.
‘“Designs by Sophy,”’ he read aloud. ‘Even has your mobile number listed.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Got something to share, baby sis?’
‘You made these?’ Her mother whirled, her face beaming.
They all turned and looked at her.
‘Umm.’ Sophy was a dehydrated flower withering under the heat of her immediate family’s collective stare. ‘Yes.’
‘But this is amazing! Edward!’ Her mother raised her voice. ‘Edward have you seen these?’
He had—her father put his arm around her, smiling in that quietly pleased way he had. ‘Well done, Sophy.’
‘You’re so talented.’
‘When did you learn to do this?’
‘I could never do anything so intricate.’
Victoria and Mina got in on the act. Oh, the squeals were embarrassing.
‘She got it from my side of the family,’ her father said with his usual assured authority. ‘Which is your favourite, darling?’ He turned to her mother. ‘I’m going to buy it.’
‘You don’t have to do that, Dad,’ Sophy mumbled, beyond embarrassed by their effusiveness now.
‘Oh I do. I am.’ He was halfway through the crowds—off to find the manager who was in charge of the sales.
Sophy looked at them. It was weird how her heart could sink and lift at the same time. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To have their approval? To ‘wow’ them like this? So why was she feeling so deflated? ‘Guys, you
