‘He’s spoken to his neighbours and he’s seen him.’ Oliver let out a sigh. ‘It’s an address in Brooklyn.’
Hayley shook her head. How could that be possible? How could he have been so close yet so impossible to track down? Shecouldn’t stop the tears from spilling from her eyes, feeling so many sensations all at once. Hope. Joy.Fear.
As the salty tracks of her tears started to crystallise on her face, she looked up at Oliver. She watched him put his hands in the pockets of his coat and tighten his jaw.
‘Thank you,’ she breathed.
He nodded. ‘Well, I have a reputation for making women’s wishes come true.’ He swallowed. ‘I couldn’t let this one beat me.’
She watched him bite his bottom lip, as if he was thinking about what to say next. Why had he done this? Had he thought better about shutting her down at the hospital? She felt weak for even considering it.
‘Listen,’ he started. ‘I just wanted to say… about the McArthur Foundation fundraiser.’ He wet his lips. ‘It’s a great cause and… no matter how I feel about it… even though it’s not my bag…’ He stopped, like he didn’t know what he had started to say. ‘You’re going to make it an incredible event.’
She needed to say something. He had come over here with Angel’s wish in his hands. His hazel eyes were full of emotion and those pert lips she’d kissed so hungrily looked more delicious and tempting than an open tin of Quality Street. If she took a step towards him, what would he do? She slid one foot through the dusting of snow.
He stepped back and her heart fell. This was goodbye.
‘Well, I’d better head off… lots to do.’ Oliver smiled at her. ‘Goodbye, Lois.’
She swallowed the knot of emotion clogging up her throat. Her heart and libido were telling her to stop him as she watched him take the steps down to the pavement. He turned back and she held her breath. He waved a hand then pulled the handle of the waiting town car and slipped into the back seat. She sighed, watching herbreath spiral in the freezing air and whispered into the night. ‘Goodbye, Superman.’
47
MANCINIS RESTAURANT, TENTH AVENUE, MANHATTAN
Oliver had picked a booth in a back corner of the restaurant. He’d ordered a Scotch and a jug of water then spent the last five minutes straightening everything on the table into a slightly different place. How was this going to go down? The images were etched on his brain but the betrayal bit him more than anything. His father’s best friend. When had that stopped counting for something?
‘Oliver.’ His mother’s voice drove him from his reverie and he got to his feet quickly.
Cynthia looked effortlessly chic as always in an ice-blue shift dress that brought out the colour of her eyes. Oliver leant forward, kissing her first on one cheek, then the other.
‘You’re early,’ he remarked, his eyes shifting to Cynthia’s companion.
There he was. Andrew Regis, wearing that old-school three-piece suit combination he always wore. Head glossy, cheeks coloured by spidery red veins. He thought the extent of his betrayal was this relationship with his mother and that article in the magazine questioning Oliver’s leadership. How wrong he’d been.
‘Andrew.’ Oliver held his hand out to him, going against everything his body’s engine was telling him to do.
‘Oliver,’ Andrew responded, grasping the offering and giving it a firm, professional shake.
Both men waited for Cynthia to slip into the booth before taking their seats. Oliver poured his mother a glass of water and went to offer the jug to Andrew’s glass.
Andrew put his hand over the tumbler. ‘Why don’t we have a nice bottle of red?’
‘What a good idea,’ Cynthia agreed, picking up a menu. ‘Then we can clear the air properly and start moving forward.’
Oliver swallowed, not able to raise a smile at his mother. How was she going to feel about this? Her first venture into the relationship arena since Richard’s death and this! He wasn’t going to soft soap the business side of things. She was on the board. It was her right to know, just like all the other members he was going to have to explain it to. The other part… He put his hand to his tie and slackened the knot. He didn’t think he could do it to her. He forced a smile. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Cynthia had done an excellent job of keeping the flow of conversation going until the starter arrived. Now, every mouthful of the mushroom-filled ravioli was turning Oliver’s stomach. He shouldn’t be sitting with this disgusting liar of a man. He should be dragging him out into the street and giving him the kicking of his life.
‘Only a week until Christmas and they say the weather is going to turn,’ Cynthia continued. ‘I’m hoping the forecasters are wrong. A little snow is traditional this time of year but a storm cutting off the city is something no one wants.’
Oliver nodded his head up and down. He’d been doing that a lot. He wasn’t sure he could offer up niceties in the circumstances.
‘Brings everything to a halt. Workers can’t make it to work, nothing gets done,’ Andrew chipped in.
Silence descended again and Oliver forced another forkful of food into his mouth.
‘Right, well, seeing as the atmosphere here is decidedly frostier than it is outside, I think it’s time we addressed this head on.’ Cynthia threw her napkin down on the table.
