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“I love you,” she says.
I kiss her hair. “I love you too.”
“Happy birthday.”
I smile, running my hands down her back, and give a long, content sigh.
Chapter Thirty
Damon
We see each other as many times as we can over the next two weeks, which is better than nothing, although it’s not as much as I’d like. She’s busy at uni, and I’m flat out at work, plus I have to go to Auckland for a few days, so our meetings consist of snatched visits late at night, frantic lovemaking, and then curling up in bed, not wanting to be apart, until the sun rises the next morning.
The first of May approaches all too soon, though, and then it’s time for us to say goodbye, as she departs New Zealand for her eight-week internship in Sydney. I take her to the airport, and we hug for ages in the flight lounge before she finally kisses me goodbye with tears in her eyes and heads for the gate.
It’s only three-and-a-half hours to Sydney, but the Tasman Sea—what Kiwis nickname The Ditch—divides us, and the fact that she’s in another country depresses me. I mope around for the first week, missing her at night, trying to tell myself to man up and that I don’t need a woman to make me complete, then spending ages either messaging her or calling her when she eventually gets back to the apartment she’s sharing with another girl from the law firm where she’s working.
By the end of the second week, I’m missing her so much that I tentatively suggest I fly over and see her. I keep the suggestion as lighthearted as possible—no worries if you’re busy, please say if you’d rather I didn’t—but Belle is thrilled and says she’d love to see me. So I hop on a plane to Sydney for the weekend and I treat her to a couple of nights in one of the city’s most luxurious hotels. We spend most of the weekend in bed or in the sumptuous restaurant, only leaving the hotel for a quick stretch of our legs. I take a selfie of the two of us in front of the Opera House, and that becomes my screensaver for the next few weeks.
After that, I fly out to see her every weekend. Well, what’s the point in being a billionaire if you can’t treat yourself?
The days slowly slip by. I spend a week in Auckland, then a week in Christchurch, helping Alex at Kia Kaha. I’m also starting work on a new project with Kip, working on an innovative facial prosthetic, and that’s taking up a lot of my time. May turns into June, and Belle announces she’s halfway through, which delights us both.
It’s now officially winter Down Under. We’re heading toward the solstice, which is going to be extra special this year. Saxon and Catie married back in January while they were away in the Bay of Islands, Saxon deliberately keeping the event quiet because he wanted to surprise her but wasn’t sure how she’d react. It worked, but it did mean none of his close friends and family were able to be there, so now that the babies are born and Catie has settled down a lot, they’ve decided to renew their vows on the twenty-first and invite everyone to our parents’ large home for a big party.
I have mixed feelings about it. I’m thrilled for Saxon and Catie, and it’ll be fun to see friends and family that I haven’t seen for a while. They’re also having a baby naming ceremony, and I’m going to be one of the Guide Parents and promise to keep an eye on the babies as they grow up. I’m looking forward to that.
But I’m also feeling oddly restless, and deep down, although I’d never admit it to them, I’m jealous that both my brothers have their happy endings all sewn up. Seeing Belle at weekends isn’t enough for me. When we’re not together, I feel edgy and irritable. When she says she’s only interested in me, and that she’s not going out with other men, it’s not that I don’t trust her, but I can’t believe she’s not being surrounded by a flock of interested guys who are all clamoring for her attention. The thought makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
I realize it’s one situation that’s completely out of my control, and I’m not used to that. When you’re rich, it’s rare to be out of control. If you throw enough money at a problem, it usually makes it go away. But this won’t vanish by flashing dollars around. I just have to accept that Belle will be back soon, and until then I need to wait.
I’m not great at waiting and accepting, and it’s not doing my blood pressure any good.
I spend the evenings in the studio, working somewhat feverishly, sketching and painting goddesses and angels that all somehow seem to look like her.
The end of June creeps ever closer. She’s coming back to New Zealand on Saturday the twenty-fourth, and now I can start counting the days. I have an important meeting with Kip and some American visitors the Saturday before she gets here so for once I can’t go to Sydney, but I’ve been counting the days and I’m down to single figures now, so it makes the waiting a little easier.
Nine days. Eight. Seven…
The Sunday before she’s due to come home, I spend the morning working at home, finishing off a report for Kip, then give myself the afternoon off. I work out for an hour, take a shower, then decide I’m going to spend a while Googling places to take Belle when she gets back. I want some kind of luxury lodge in the middle of nowhere, with a great view from the bedroom over a lake or the sea, as I don’t plan on letting her out of bed for days…
I’ve just opened my laptop when the doorbell rings.
It startles me, because I rarely get visitors without warning. If Saxon or Kip are going to call in, they usually text me first.
I’m only in a tee and track pants, but I’m presentable enough. Running a hand through my hair, I go up to the front door and open it.
It’s Alex.
I stare at him in surprise. “Hey, dude! What are you doing here?”
He’s leaning against the post that holds up the porch roof but pushes off as I stand back. “Coming to see you,” he says, walking into the house past me.
“I meant what are you doing in Wellington?” I close the door behind him.
“I told you, coming to see you.” He goes into the living room, then turns and waits for me.
