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“We’ll leave soon, Carrie.”
She spun around to look at him.
“We have to talk,” he continued firmly, his eyes boring into hers.
“Yes, I know.” She nodded. “But it will wait.”
“No,” he denied hotly.
And Carrie’s beautiful face, usually so carefully blanked of emotion flared with uncontained rage.
“Am I the only one here who cares that we just yesterday said goodbye to a great man?” Tears sparked her eyes. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, carrying on like this. Where is your respect? I loved Diego, and I don’t want to think about any of this right now. None of it matters. Not today.”
She turned before she could see the hatred on Alexandra’s expression, and the shock on Gael’s. She walked away slowly, her head held high.
* * *
Carrie’s eyes scanned the contracts again. All was in order. She had no need to have re-read them for the tenth time that morning. But there it was – Gael’s signature in firm black writing, notarized by a member of his in-house legal counsel. They were binding and official.
More money than she could have imagined, in exchange for his retaining a chunk of ownership of the app, and a position as creative advisor.
It wasn’t the contracts that were making her fingers shake, though. It was the note that had been included. He’d written on the same letterhead as he’d included in the limousine in Spain.
I have waited and I have wanted. I am more yours than ever I was.
Have dinner with me tonight, and decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me, or never see me again. I will respect your decision.
Never doubt that I love you, Carrie.
She ran her finger over the darkly pressed script, then flicked it over. He’d included the name of a restaurant on the back, and the appointed time.
That was it.
So what did Carrie want?
She knew the answer to that. She wanted Gael.
In the two weeks since leaving Forest View, and the messed up situation with Gael and her mother, she’d thought of him obsessively. His words played over and over in her head. Some days she believed them, other days she didn’t.
The very idea of Gael falling in love with her was incredible. Literally, impossible to credit. She couldn’t believe it. Men like Gael didn’t love women like Carrie – not as she’d been at seventeen. But men like Gael didn’t lie, either.
It was beneath him. So what did that mean? Was he telling the truth?
But why had he left her for so long?
Why hadn’t he recognised her at the party, when first they’d reconnected? If she hadn’t seen him that night, would he have ever contacted her?
And none of this made up for the way he’d treated her on the island. Throwing her in the pool to make a point about vanity had been cruel and unkind. He’d ripped away all of her protective outer layer in a manner that was intentionally callous. She couldn’t forgive him for that. At least, she didn’t think she could.
She’d need to see him again to know for certain.
She spent the day dithering back and forth on the matter, until finally, she accepted that she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t at least turn up. But indecision had made her tardy. By the time she’d gone home and changed into a pair of black jeans and a beautiful silk Karen Millen top, she was late. She still paused to freshen up her make up and hair, and to slip on a pair of sky high heels.
Finally, almost an hour after she was meant to meet him, Carrie was ready. She grabbed her handbag and walked out of her front door, striding to the end of the street to flag down a taxi.
One pulled up almost instantly; it had just let a fare out a little way down, so no doubt the driver thought the timing excellent. She gave him the address and settled back into the seat.
Nerves were causing her stomach to clench.
