“What’s next for you, Kathryn Frazer?” I ask, collecting my stuff together. “You’ve taken the FHG to new heights. This project is going to cement you asqueenof the hotel industry. Quite a feat by the age of thirty-five. What’s your next goal?”
Her brows furrow, and she shrugs.
“More of the same. The FHG takes up most of my time. I still run, so I may train to compete in a marathon. I want to renovate the hotel suite where I’m living.”
I’d forgotten she’d moved out of her apartment.
“Are you staying put at the hotel?”
She picks up her belongings and stands up. “It’s convenient for work. It just needs modernising. I’d like to add an office.”
“If you need me, let me know. I can look at the original plans if you want any structural changes. Let you know what’s possible.”
“Thank you, I may just take you up on that.”
She’s all smiles today, and my stomach somersaults.
What am I doing?
We leave the library and make our way outside into the sunshine and heat. The rush of warmth is a strict contrast to the air-conditioned library.
Kat removes her cardigan, exposing her shoulders. Yesterday left her with a healthy tan.
“But what else? Apart from a marathon, the rest is all linked to work. You must want more?”
“Like?” Her brows furrow until understanding dawns, her gaze meeting mine. “Oh, you mean a private life?”
Kat throws back her head, her laughter genuine. “I’ll leave the marriage and kids to my siblings. I’m more than happy being, Aunty Kat.”
This is not the same Kathryn Frazer of old. Sixteen years ago, Kat wanted it all. A career, a husband to come home to, two-point-four children.
My expression must give me away.
“Don’t look like that, I’m married to my job these days,” she says, her hand coming to rest on my forearm, before she snatches it back. “It’s what I love, it fulfils me. I don’t need anything else.”
But does it?
I’m not convinced.
I focus on where her hand touched my skin, jolts of electricity travelling up into my body.
“That doesn’t seem very balanced,” I say, trying to concentrate.
“Maybe not to you, but to me. I’m not someone who will be fulfilled staying at home raising kids while my husband goes out to work. The FHG is my child, as it was my father’s and grandfather’s before me. There’s not much room for anything else.”
“They had families, a life outside of the office,” I say, as we hit the jetty.
She turns her head and smiles, her eyebrow quirked.
“Not to sound sexist, but it was different for them.”
“How?”
“Grandpa had Grandma, Dad had Mum. It’s the same way, Gabriel has Leah. Their partners were, and are happy to stay at home and raise the kids and for their husbands to go to work.”
“Leah still works. Pen says she’s going to continue working,” I say.
Kat turns her head.
