EJ ended the call, then flicked open her photo library to the picture she’d surreptitiously taken on Friday night. Stared at the handsome man. Eric Churchill. Scion of a globally known billionaire.
And Jordan had been worried the mystery man would prove part of the mob? She laughed. Jordan was so far off the mark he might as well be on a different planet.
“Unbelievable.”
A smile kept flitting about as she went through the rest of her day answering emails, working on code, problem-solving, and drinking way too much tea. Normally she’d be a coffee fiend, but the coffee machine here was a bit too slow. Aunty Marion’s kettle was fast, suiting its original owner who was partial to a good cup of Earl Grey over anything else. EJ tended to be more of an English Breakfast kind of girl.
Late afternoon shadows were lengthening by the time five o’clock rolled around, her favourite time of day. She stood, refilled her water bottle, and moved to the small balcony. Two wrought iron chairs painted white beckoned for her to sit. So she did, watching the ferries charge their way across the harbour, the movements strangely soothing, satisfying, real. She dealt with so much in computer and internet virtual land that it was sometimes easy to forget that the world churned on without her. That people had lives just as important as hers. Well, maybe not quite so important, because if it wasn’t for her, then some people’s lives wouldn’t be quite so wonderful as they were now, thanks to Dream Match.
She inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of brine on the breeze. Dream Match might have its challenges, but things were looking promising. In fact, now that she’d quit Donwell, things were looking up in many ways. It finally felt like she was making inroads in the social scene, those people who were in the know who might share some of that knowledge with her. And, one day, invest.
Charlie purred, then an instant later leaped onto her lap. “Someone’s needy, huh.”
She stroked him, revelling in the softness of his fur, sighing with pleasure as the skies showed streaks of pink. This truly was a special part of the world in which to live. A special job she got to do. Helping people find connections, helping people find love, transforming people’s lives. And while pushing Dream Match forward might feel all-consuming at times, she knew it wouldn’t be this way forever. This was the last hill she had to climb, the steep part, just like in the City-to-Surf half marathon. Now that she’d completed it several times, she knew she had to dig deep when Heartbreak Hill loomed ahead. But it was doable if she just kept plodding, one foot in front of the other, until she reached the top, and then the long road to success would all be hers.
“So just keep on keeping on,” she murmured.
A seagull landed on the balcony rail, eyeing her with its black, beady eye. “Sorry, bud, no chips for you today.”
She didn’t eat hot chips—fries—too often, but when she did, these scavenger birds seemed to know just what to do. She’d been at the open-air restaurants on the Opera House’s concourse, the best place to see the Harbour Bridge, and seen seagulls swoop in, pesky and fearless, to steal chips and other food—sometimes straight from people’s hands! There was a reason for the signs that said not to feed the birds. That, and their propensity for making messes.
Charlie stirred, then descended in a stealth move, and the seagull squawked and flew away.
The evening sky’s pinks blurred into oranges as sunset said hello. Mum had recently posted on the family group chat a few sunset shots from home, the autumn skies so much more vivid than normal. But nothing could beat this view.
A cool breeze wafted around her neck, forcing her to tug closer Aunty Marion’s hand-knitted throw. She needed to stay warm, to stay healthy this winter, so she could get done all that still remained.
Maurice kept waving the possibility of putting Dream Match on the stock exchange, so they had to have all their ducks in a row. And that meant finding a few more investors so they could level up the app’s features and functions. Hmm. Would Gwen be interested? She’d sounded complimentary before. She drew out her phone and sent a direct message, thanking Gwen again for taking time today. It never hurt to show someone appreciation, and to capitalise on earlier connections. Especially while there was a chance they might remember her.
A few minutes later, EJ’s phone pinged with a reply.
“Hey, are you in Sydney this weekend? Free for a coffee on Sunday morning?”
Oh!She straightened. Smiled.
“Sure am,” she typed back. “Where and when?”
Her family would understand why she’d need to miss the video chat. It wasn’t like anything new was happening with any of them. And this could be her big break.Please, God.
“Hey, you.”
“Oh! Jordan. Hi.”
“Forgotten me already?” he teased. But it didn’t feel like a complete joke. He’d known she’d be busy, but EJ had barely replied to his messages this past week. And after a near-daily diet of EJ Bennett in his life all his life, her limited responses felt the equivalent of going from a buffet lunch to a diet shake. Unsatisfying. A little artificial. Their interactions might contain all the elements contained in a usual conversation, but it didn’t taste real.
“Good to see who’s so secure,” she teased back.
“You’ve been a little busy, so Insta tells me.”
“Oh my gosh! Did you see the selfie I got with Gwen the other day? She took me to breakfast at Otto’s at the wharf. Oh my goodness, it’s so nice there, and the views! I can’t believe how good the coffee was, although I have to admit I’m glad she was paying. That place had the priciest coffees I’ve ever seen.”
“Probably to pay for those views,” he said dryly.
“Probs. But anyway, it was awesome talking with Gwen about all kinds of business things …”
As EJ went on and on about Gwen, some of the internal turmoil since their visit to Bennelong a week ago started to fade. He didn’t like the fact that EJ had skipped church—again—nor piked on her regular family catch-up, but she was a big girl. She knew what she was doing. He hoped.Lord, keep her safe from making dumb decisions.
At least she hadn’t mentioned anything about that guy who’d had the nerve to send her a drink. His fingers clenched. What kind of man did that? A little man, that’s who.Lord, it’d be really good if she never sees or has anything else to do with him again. Just sayin’.
