‘“Hey guys, I’m really sorry to have to do this to you but I’ve thought about it long and hard and I think we should put a hold on our journey until you two know what’s happening with your relationship. Please don’t hate me for it, but I’ll be the one who has to make some tough decisions if I get pregnant and it doesn’t work out between you two. You know how much I love you and once things are back to normal, we can get going again, I promise. Take care.”’
A stab of guilt briefly struck Jeffrey when he registered the disappointment in Luca’s face. However, instead of the couple comforting each other, Noah became preoccupied with apportioning blame.
‘What did you say to her?’ he fired at Jeffrey.
‘Nothing that was factually incorrect,’ he replied.
‘Tell me.’
‘Beccy asked me what would happen to the baby if she fell pregnant and you failed Levels Two and Three. So I told her the truth: that a magistrate might decide to allow one of you to keep the baby or they might order that it’s put up for adoption. It’s all in your Surrogacy Gateway.’
‘But you didn’t have to remind her!’ snapped Noah before storming out of the room and the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Luca went to follow him before Jeffrey spoke. ‘I’m sorry but I had no choice but to answer Beccy’s questions honestly.’
‘I know, but Noah doesn’t like it when things are out of his control. And this Level Two situation is getting to him.’
Jeffrey suppressed his satisfaction and Luca moved towards the door. ‘And how do you feel about Beccy’s decision?’
‘I respect it and I’m not blaming her. Or you . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘You know, I’m not just a Relationship Responder, I’m also a good listener,’ Jeffrey offered and placed his hand gently upon Luca’s shoulder.
‘Thank you—’ Luca half-smiled ‘—but I should really find Noah.’
‘Of course, of course,’ Jeffrey replied.
But he was convinced that he wasn’t alone in feeling the charge of electricity running between them.
28
Corrine
The thick waft of grey cigar smoke reached Corrine themoment she opened her front door.
She followed the trail of burning tobacco through the house and into Mitchell’s den. He was on the sofa, bare feet propped up on a coffee table and watching a football match on a television screen that took up most of the wall. A box of popcorn rested on his lap and a bottle of beer lay by his side and fast-food delivery wrappers littered the floor. A half-smoked fat cigar rested in a semi-full ashtray.
‘Could you at least let some air in?’ she asked and pressed a button that opened the bifold doors.
‘It’s my room, not yours,’ Mitchell replied without turning to look at his wife.
‘But it’s our house and the smoke travels through it.’
‘Get the help to turn on the extractor fans.’
‘Couldn’t you have done it yourself?’
‘There’s a lot of things I have to do for myself these days.’
Laughter came from a speaker and Corrine realized there were others present in the room, albeit remotely. She slammed the door as she left, irritated at herself for allowing Mitchell to exasperate her.
As she made her way back through the house, Corrine caught a glimpse of a moving image in a digital photo frame perched on a sideboard. It was of a group of friends she had barely seen since the night it was recorded at a silver wedding anniversary party last year. She was smiling in the clip – everyone was – but hers was as artificial as Mitchell’s hair transplant. They were all around the same age but Corrine appeared older. She had given up on fillers and muscle-paralysing treatments in favour of growing old naturally. She didn’t want to look like the others in the video with their breast implants, dermabrasions, facelifts, tummy tucks and designer vaginas. And she no longer cared about trying to impress her husband when he had long given up on her.
He wasn’t the man she had fallen in love with. Back when they had first met, it was his personality, work ethic and ambition as much as his dark-brown curls, sharp blue eyes and solitary dimple on his left cheek she was attracted to.
‘That bugger could charm the stripes off a wasp,’ her mother had warned her. He’d certainly charmed Corrine the night they’d met through mutual friends. He was working for a team overseeing a number of major construction projects while she was a ceramics and art teacher at a local Academy. Two years later they married and she was pregnant by the time they returned from their honeymoon in Thailand.
By the age of 35, Mitchell had set up his own construction business and, two-years after that, his contracts earned him his first seven-figure payout. But his swelling coffers gradually became more important to him than his family. This was when Corrine first started to feel sidelined. However, rather than confront it, she made excuses for him, reminding herself he was throwing everything at his career for his family’s sake. And she had been a willing participant in enjoying the financial spoils. At least another decade passed before she was ready to admit she had made a huge error in judgement and that they were drifting apart.
