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He hands me my drink, his eyes glittering, all friendliness gone. ‘When? Next time you’re in Sydney long enough? Next time we bump into each other at an M Club function? And will we just pretend none of this ever happened?’
I have no answer, but I say, ‘I don’t know when. Look, Cam, I didn’t want things to go this way. I... I heard what you said about trying, and I want you to know I’m flattered that you think we could be...more. But you knew from the start—’
‘I get it, you don’t do relationships.’
I ignore him, the reasons almost crushing my chest as I verbalise them, forcing them out. ‘You know my hours. My commitments. I clock up tens of thousands of air miles. I’m hardly ever home in Sydney. I’m just not relationship material. And you’d soon grow to resent me for it. It’s already started.’
> ‘I don’t resent you,’ he bites out, and I shrink, shame at how cowardly I’m behaving blotting out the other feelings like panic and grief that have no place, because this is what I wanted all along.
‘You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met—smart, inspiring, accomplished. I celebrate you.’ He sighs, runs his hand through his hair. ‘As long as you work the way you do because it makes you happy and not because you’re still trying to prove you don’t need your father’s, or anyone else’s, approval—including mine.’
‘I know you think that’s what motivates me, and maybe once...in the beginning... But this isn’t about my father. It’s about me not being right for a relationship, not being right for you. Look, you’ll find someone you have more things in common with, someone with time for a relationship, someone your own age.’ I wince because I can hear what’s just emerged from my mouth and I couldn’t sound more patronising if I tried.
Fury flits across Cam’s face. He swallows the Macallan in a single, knocked-back swallow and then places his empty glass on the bar. ‘I’ve never cared about our age gap and the fact you’re bringing it up now, when you’ve nowhere else to run, tells me what a bullshit excuse it is, and you know it.’
He steps closer, one hand finding my hip, his fingers flexing in a way that reminds me of when he’s turned on and about to undress me. But I can’t succumb to the touch my body craves so badly; even now I feel my resolve wobbling. It would be so easy to forget this fight, like the ones that have gone before, to mend what’s broken the best way we know how. With sex. But it’s not just sex any more and I can’t risk another dose of the searing intimacy we share.
My eyes burn and I blink hard. The longer we draw out the goodbye, the worse it will feel. For both of us. Because we’ve both been stupid. Both allowed feelings to creep into what should have been a simple transaction of pleasure. I can’t toy with him, now I know what he wants, know that his feelings are involved. I should never have toyed with him in the first place.
‘Look, my job is my priority. I thought you understood that.’ The words scratch at my throat like tears, but I hold myself in check, wound too tightly to surrender to the emotion that will make me weak enough to confess that yes, a part of me wants to believe in a future for Cam and me.
‘Oh, that’s crystal clear, believe me.’
‘That’s a low blow. Just because you were handed your fortune instead of earning it, like I’ve had to, it’s not fair to make me feel bad for making a living while you fritter away an inheritance you don’t even appreciate.’ As soon as the words are out I want to suck them back in.
He’s so angry, his eyes glow, his beautiful mouth flat. ‘Well, it’s good to know how you really feel.’
My chest collapses, squashed by the weight of my regret. I make a move to touch him, but before I make contact he says, ‘I can see you’re not prepared to give us, to give me, a chance after everything we’ve shared.’
I gape, because I’m stunned at his insight, his maturity, his quiet delivery after I’ve verbally slapped him in the face. I’ve been blind or simply hiding because I’m too scared to be emotionally vulnerable.
‘You know, Orla, your father isn’t worthy of the amazing woman you are. You’re ten times the human being he is. You’re probably smarter than him, a daughter to be proud of, whose successes should be celebrated.’
‘I know that.’
‘Do you? Because you seem to need a daily reminder.’ He touches my diamond stud with one gentle fingertip, and I want to curl into a ball.
‘Every day you push and strive and work to the point of near collapse, to prove yourself to a man who’ll probably never see you, the real you. I might not be worthy of you either, but at least I see you. And I want you, I want us to have something real like I thought we’ve had these past weeks, but you can’t even give me one single chance.’
I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I want to give him everything, that I already have, but until five minutes ago it would have been a lie. ‘Cam, I—’
He stands tall, slides his empty glass away on the bar. ‘Perhaps I was right about you all along. We are too different. Because I refuse to dance to my father’s tune, to be his puppet. You showed me I don’t have to see the money as a bond, that I can use it for good, to make a difference. You said it yourself, Orla. It’s how we live our lives that defines us. How do you want to live? If you’re happy making money every second of every day, then that’s fine by me, but do it for yourself. Not for him. I wanted you in my life because you’re enough for me just as you are, but now I see that’s never going to happen because you need to work out what is enough for you. And I see now that that isn’t me.’
I sway towards him, my stomach in my throat and his whispered name ringing in my ears. But I’m frozen by the choices I’ve made. Trapped, when all along I believed the illusion I was free to live on my terms.
Cam hands me his phone, his face now devoid of emotions. ‘Text my driver when you’re ready to leave.’
He turns on his heel and heads for the exit.
I stop him. ‘Wait—where are you going?’
He pauses. ‘I’ll walk home.’
I watch him leave, my eyes burning into him, but he never once looks back.
CHAPTER TEN
Orla
