‘Look, Abbey, I understand you’re pissed off with me. Coming back from holidays, there was no way in the world I expected to run into you.’
‘The irony that the only boss I’ve ever slept with is you, hey? Nick, I don’t know who you are. And you may not have expected to run into me, but you did know you were coming to Sydney. For the whole of the two weeks, you knew you were going to be here in this city, where I lived.’ I turned away from him, trying to get the hurt out of my voice. Also, I was going to dissolve into a complete, blubbering mess. And I really didn’t want to do that in front of him. I still had a fucking whole coat to paint.
Get your emotional shit under control, Abbey.
‘Oliver needs you,’ he said.
But what I heard was:I don’t need you.
He doesn’t want you, Abbey.
‘I’ve drawn up an offer, Abbey. I want you to take it.’ He walked over to where I was standing and reached for my arm to make me face him.
As soon as our skin made contact, a chain reaction occurred in my body. First heat flooded me, pooling somewhere at my centre; second, my breathing changed; third, my eyes looked briefly up to meet his whisky-coloured ones and then dropped, focusing on his mouth, the narrow top lip and the pouty lower one. I had the overwhelming urge to remind him of those two weeks. How they felt, what they meant.
‘There is only you. I need you,’ he breathed.
I closed my eyes, wishing desperately that he’d said that about us, about me. ‘When do you leave?’
‘I’m here for a bit. Maybe a couple of weeks, maybe a month. It depends on how successful we are.’
His hands were still on my paint-covered arms. I wanted him closer, so much closer. His thumb brushed over a bit of dried paint.
‘Are you painting by yourself? Do you need help?’
What the fuck was that? We weren’t friends.
I pulled my arm back. ‘I don’t need anything from you.’
‘Abbey,’ he breathed. Silk. Chocolate. I watched him stiffen and swallow whatever he had been about to say. ‘The offer is generous, Abbey. I need you back.’ The CEO was in the room.
He turned to leave, and I felt my eyes gravitate to his arse in those jeans as he walked away.Hot fucker.
‘Nick.’
Shut the fuck up, Abbey. Do not even think about saying that, under no circumstances are you to throw this man a –
‘I miss him.’
He turned and looked at me with a wariness in his dark eyes. ‘Who?’
I looked at the ceiling, the battle I was having with my brain and what was about to come out of my mouth would surely be on display in my face if I looked at him.
‘Holiday Nick. I miss Holiday Nick.’ My hand covered my mouth after that came out. I dropped my eyes to meet his and, for the first time since I had seen him again, I could almost see the man I’d known.
I thought I saw his jaw move for a second, as if he were going to throw me a smile and march over to me and pull me by the waist of my jean shorts into his mouth. But his gaze dropped, he opened his mouth and closed it again, deciding not to speak whatever was on his mind. Then he squared his shoulders and turned and walked away.
And I picked up the roller.
***
The second coat was a torturous chore that no eighties pop song could improve, and I laboured until it was done. When I finished, I could have collapsed and slept for a week, but I also had shit everywhere, so I huffed and commenced the clean-up. Finally, I threw myself into the shower to wash off the paint and dirt and got into clean pyjamas, preparing the sofa bed to sleep on that night.
Kate was dressed in scrubs and ready to start her shift at the hospital. She deemed it an appropriate time to broach the visitor from earlier.
‘Old mate’ – she pointed towards the door – ‘is gorgeous, if a bit of an arrogant prick,’ she stated. ‘Google says he’s loaded. Fantastic arse, by the way. How the fuck did you not google him in the first place?’
‘I don’t google people. I didn’t know about his money, although maybe that was lack of perception on my part, and his arse … oh, my God, I know.’
