Page 57

“That’s what happens when you’re in with the artist.” Hazel winked half-heartedly.

Josie drained her flute of champagne. “I’m going to go grab my painting and call it a night,” she said, shooting Hazel a knowing look.

“I should do the same. School night.” Serena yawned.

“Thanks so much for coming.” Hazel drew them both into a hug.

“Of course,” Serena replied

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Josie kissed Hazel’s cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered in her ear.

Hazel watched her friends walk away. She jumped as Molly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

“You alright, sweetie?” Molly rested her hand on Hazel’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mum. Do you need me to stay here?”

“No. The artworks will stay in the gallery on display for the next four months, so not much we need to do here. Is everything okay?”

Hazel chewed her lip as her eyes welled up. “Yep, everything is fine.”

Molly laughed, a tinge of sadness on the edges. “Darling, I can tell when you’re upset, you know. I clocked it the minute you walked in. And I know it’s about Sam. He isn’t here.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your night.” Hazel felt her shoulders droop. “But I guess you know me too well.” She paused, gathering the courage to confess. “I screwed up. I applied for a job at Cloud, ages ago, just after I arrived, even though I promised you I wouldn’t. They advertised for a Brand Manager. It’s a pretty big deal, the opportunity of a lifetime, etc.” Hazel waved her hands dramatically in the air. “Anyway, I did a phone interview just after I applied, and I thought it hadn’t gone very well, and I just sort of forgot about it. Until I was offered the job today.” She looked at her mother, her brow furrowed. “I had the call on speakerphone, and Sam overheard. So now he thinks that I went behind his back and I’m leaving, after I’d told him I was staying.”

Molly pursed her lips and nodded her head. “Are you leaving?”

“Well, I mean,” Hazel trailed off. She couldn’t look Molly in the eye. “I wanted the chance to think about it. It’s a really big opportunity.” She looked at the ground, focusing on the swirly pattern of the brown carpet. “But I think I still want to stay,” she finished quietly.

“Well, go on then. Go find him and talk it through. I’ll get a lift home with Michelle.” Molly fished around for the keys in the pocket of her suit pants. She placed them in Hazel’s palm. “No matter what happens, I’m here. Serena’s here, Josie’s here. Bailey too. We’ll look after you.”

Hazel swiped a rogue tear that had escaped. “It’s funny, Josie said exactly that.”

“She’s a smart girl.” Molly winked. “Now, go. Drive safe. I love you.” She rested her hand against her daughter’s cheek.

“Thanks, Mum. I love you too.” Hazel kissed the bottom of Molly’s palm. She turned and headed for the exit, only realising when she reached the car park that she hadn’t asked where Molly had parked the car. She scanned the dark lot before it occurred to her to press the unlock button on the keys. The car lit up a few metres in front of her.

Settling into the seat, she realised she still hadn’t managed to listen to Sam’s voicemail. She braced herself and pressed play.

Sam checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Still nothing.

He’d left the voicemail over an hour ago.

His jaw was aching, and his heart was pounding. It took everything in him not to throw his phone across the room.

The humiliation he felt nearly overpowered him. He’d laid it all out. The deep feelings he had for her, feelings he’d never felt before. And he’d blurted out what he’d been holding close. That he wanted to marry her. He thought of the ring he’d bought, sitting at the back of the drawer in his wardrobe.

The ring that had been right in front of him when he’d walked in. It was perfect for her. He’d known it was the one the minute he’d seen it, like he’d known she was the one the moment they’d bumped into each other.

He dragged his hands over his face, tugging at his skin. He was still angry, still fired up. He stripped off and stood under the shower. The water was cold. It cut through the blistering heat of the anger that had engulfed him. The water fell over him, and he stood there, still, letting it fall. Eventually, the anger disappeared and revealed what was underneath it.

Pain and sadness. He sat on the floor, his legs close to his chest. Being angry was easier than dealing with this part. He was disappointed, and if he let himself admit it, devastated. He’d held back, not said anything, not wanting to influence her decision. And he thought he’d done everything right, because she’d told him she wanted to stay.

Told him she wanted to be his.

Told him she loved him.

But she didn’t love him. She couldn’t, because if she did, why would she be applying for jobs behind his back?