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She remembered him saying that his wife hadn’t wanted children. She also remembered getting the distinct impression that he wasn’t keen on them, either. Which was a shame—he really had a way with little people. He’d certainly won Dana’s heart with his Sleeping Beauty comment. She hadn’t stopped talking about him since.
Her mind drifted to her daughter. And then, as usual, to Dana’s father. Why couldn’t Rupert have been more like Charlie? The horrible night she had told him about being pregnant, the night he had broken her heart, was never far from her mind. It had been a particularly awful time, coming hot on the heels of her disintegrating medical career. She had loved him and he had rejected her and his baby during the worst time of her life, and with such vehemence, such disdain, part of her had never recovered.
He had become engaged shortly after that and had moved overseas to practise in London. But his betrayal had stayed close to her heart. As long as she lived, she never wanted to be in a position where someone could destroy her again. Love gave other human beings extraordinary power over you and she was never handing that power over again.
She shut the website down with a vehement click, annoyed that she had let her thoughts drift, and surveyed the now empty waiting room. Her feet ached from constant getting up and down and walking back and forth. Her fashionable three-inch stilettos weren’t meant for movement. Sitting at a desk, yes, going back and forth, no.
She got off Angela’s chair and flopped down on one of the squishy lounges, kicking her shoes off temporarily and wriggling her toes. She had to get back to the laptop, she was three hours behind, but for a brief moment she let her head flop back and sighed. It felt heavenly.
Charlie stood framed in the doorway, watching her. The clinic had gone well. OK, Carrie hadn’t been as fast at things as Angela, but for a novice she’d excelled, and she’d had amazingly good rapport with the clients. Maybe that was a mother thing, an area she could relate to, but he didn’t think so. She had great people skills. It seemed such a shame that she was wasting them in management.
He watched her hand creep up and rub absently at her neck. He was hit by an overwhelming urge to give her a shoulder rub. She looked done in. He remembered her stretching earlier. She was, no doubt, used to ergonomically designed chairs and having to contend with a hard plastic seat was probably playing havoc with her spine alignment. She probably had kinks in her kinks.
But even as he thought it he knew how dangerous touching her would be. He’d thought about little else since he’d met her. To have to go home each night and add in the reality of her touch to his dreams would give him a permanent case of insomnia. She’d probably sue him for harassment anyway. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to putting the treatment room back to rights.
Carrie heard the door open and almost groaned. A late-comer? She opened her eyes to find a girl, a young woman actually, standing there, looking miserable. She had multicoloured short spiky hair, several facial piercings and sad, sad eyes ringed by thick black eyeliner. She looked about seventeen.
Carrie sat up. ‘Are you OK?’
The girl nodded.
‘Do you want to see Ch—Dr Wentworth?’
The girl shook her head.
Carrie recognised the look in her eyes. She’d seen it in her mirror often enough. ‘You just want to sit for a bit?’ Carrie asked, patting the lounge beside her.
The girl eyed the space, strode across the room and flung herself down next to Carrie. ‘Men are such pigs,’ she said vehemently.
Carrie looked for a response that would encourage the girl to unburden but she’d never been very good at the psychology side of things. And with thoughts of Rupert never far away, what else could she do other than agree?
‘This is true.’
The girl looked at her, startled, and then turned back to stare straight ahead. ‘They suck.’
True again. ‘They do.’
Charlie’s ears pricked up at the conversation and he strained to hear more.
‘How could they be so…so…duplicitous?’
It was Carrie’s turn to be startled this time. She’d mistakenly judged this girl on her appearance. She obviously had an excellent vocabulary. ‘It’s a Y chromosome thing. I think they go to duplicitous studies while we’re at common sense 101,’ Carrie sighed.
Charlie wanted to protest on behalf of his sex as he edged closer to the open door.
‘More like gullible 101,’ the young woman grumbled.
Carrie laughed. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘So what do we do about it?’ the girl complained, turning beseeching eyes on Carrie.
