‘So is this … friend,’ his mother drawled. ‘Another one who’s gonna get her wits about her in due time and run off screaming to another city?’
Amid all her other insults, the low-blow comment aboutMelanie made Ward feel as if he had been physically slapped, and fresh anger rushed through him.
‘Always a pleasure hearing from you, Mom,’ he managed to reply before his temper got the better of him. ‘But if what I’m doing upsets you so much, maybe send back the cheques I keep mailing. And tell Aunt Helen to mind her own damn business.’
He ended the call and slammed the phone on the countertop, not caring if the stupid thing broke into a thousand pieces. If he had been on the ice this would have been the exact moment he bodychecked an opponent and upended a guy onto the boards.
But he couldn’t do that. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t act out or worse, lash out. That wouldn’t do him any good, and it would put him on the wrong side of Hannah again too.
As it was, he’d done enough.
Ward pulled at his hair as if the action could rip out the conflicting thoughts and emotions his mother had provoked. Then picking up the phone, the latest source of his humiliation, he navigated to his socials and promptly deleted the stupid training video.
Don’t mess this up.
Worried now that Hannah had seen the video clip, taken it as yet another stupid stunt and written him off as a lost cause altogether, he called her number again, desperate to explain that it had been an ill-advised move that hadn’t stemmed from him.
And more importantly, that it was gone.
Though he knew enough about the internet to know that this stuff was never truly ‘gone’ and these things always came back to haunt you. Regardless, Hannah would know what to do, how to handle this, how torescuethis.
Assuming she still wanted to.
He would be seeing her today anyway at that podcast thing, butstill disconcerted by Irene’s take on that stupid video, Ward wanted to reassure himself – or more to the point – wantedHannahto reassure him, that he hadn’t messed up. That he hadn’t blown it already.
Still, she didn’t pick up. He checked his watch. The working day had already begun now so the only reason she wasn’t answering had to be that she was screening her calls.
Damn...
Again, he was forwarded straight to voicemail whereupon Hannah’s smiling voice told him to leave a message.
And for the second time that morning, Ward slammed his brand-new phone down on the countertop, his mood once again dark as pitch.
Chapter 33
HANNAH
Hannah needed the kind of advice that only a best friend could give. But she hadn’t been able to reach Zoe last night.
Although she was pretty sure what that advice was going to be, she admitted to herself as she looked blearily in the mirror while applying that morning’s make-up. She’d barely slept and her face showed it.
I need to see you.
Last night, three more dancing dots immediately appeared onscreen under that message, signalling a follow-up.
As she stood at the marble countertop, inches above her discarded phone, watching and waiting for the words to appear, Hannah realized she was holding her breath. The fresh batch of goodies destined for next door and all intentions of a cordial introduction were immediately forgotten, as she struggled to figure out what this out-of-the-blue communication from her ex could mean.
Their break-up and the aftermath hadn’t been … pretty to say the least but when she had put in for the job transfer and moved across the country, that had been the end of it. Or so she’d thought.
So what was Rob’s intention in seeking her out now? Had he flown here to New York to see her? Maybe try to win her back?
The soft boop sound of another incoming message had quickly put her out of her misery.
Chilling in NYC for a few days before the championship – it’s at Bethpage this year. Thought we might get together for dinner or a drink while I’m in town?
Of course. The golf tournament was coming up soon. Hannah wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.
And spent an age trying to figure out how she did feel, or more to the point, how to respond to his invitation.
