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He was torn between the urge to tell her she knew nothing about him, and concern she was laboring under the false impression he’d come here because of her. He’d done his damnedest to keep his feelings for her under wraps—up until that last day, when he’d been ready to take a leap of faith for love, only to have the ground fall away beneath him.
“I didn’t know you’d be here, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He really didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, least of all her.
She released her death grip on the bag and crossed her arms. “It’s my hometown. Where else would I be?”
“Auckland,” he suggested. “Wellington… heck, out of the country, for all I knew. You always wanted to move to the Mediterranean.”
Her scowl deepened. “If you’d looked me up, you’d have known.”
He sighed, and mirrored her pose, folding his arms over his chest. “And why would I look you up?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “How should I know? No one ever knows why you do anything, Michael.”
His brow shot up. If he’d been the sensitive type, that barb would have stung. Especially when he used to consider her one of his best friends. “Look,” he ground out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but there’s no reason for the past to get in the way of us having a decent working relationship. You do your job, I’ll do mine, and we can get on with it.”
Dropping her arms, Bex nodded. “You’re right. This doesn’t have to be the end of the world. We should both just keep out of each other’s way.”
Her easy agreement grated on him. He’d made the suggestion, so why did it disappoint him when she didn’t protest? Had he secretly wanted her to demand they clear up the murky past? Did his foolish heart still yearn for her after all these years, despite how disillusioned he’d become?
What an idiot.
He forced himself to say, “That’s probably for the best.” He shifted on his feet, weighing his next words carefully. “We may not be friends anymore, but we’re professionals and we can be civil, can’t we?”
Bex’s perfectly formed lips parted, then pressed back together as if she’d thought better of whatever she was about to say. Or perhaps she just didn’t know what to say at all. He couldn’t read her, and a familiar sense of helplessness threatened to drown him. In the final days before she’d agreed to his family’s plan, and crushed him in the process, every time he was near her, he’d felt like an actor in a movie for which the director had forgotten to give the script. After all, what was he supposed to say when he’d finally worked up the courage to ask his brother’s girlfriend to choose him, only to discover she was pregnant with his niece or nephew?
Eventually, she nodded. “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a million and one things to do.” With that, she brushed past him. He didn’t turn, but heard the tread of her shoes as she exited the room and went down the corridor outside.
For a long moment, he just stood there, unable to move. He’d imagined encountering Bex hundreds of times over the past six years. Had written their conversations in his mind. Pictured her being wowed by him, saying how much she’d missed him, confessing her undying love—even if he couldn’t return the sentiment. Compared to those fantasies, the reality had been underwhelming. She’d been no less beautiful though. Twinkling eyes, a dramatically bowed mouth like something from a renaissance painting, and those long, long legs.
She’d changed in other ways. The Bex from his memory was passionate and spontaneous, with a thirst for life. She’d never have been cool and sensible about seeing him. She’d have yelled and sworn, or laughed and embraced him like he was the first person she’d seen after leaving a desert island. He didn’t know how to reconcile that woman with the one he’d just met.
Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and headed back to his office. Perhaps Bex’s decision all those years ago weighed more heavily on her than he’d imagined.
Chapter Three
If Bex had considered pullingIzzy from class when she first saw Michael Briggston, that was nothing compared to the instinct that now blared in her head, telling her to pack up her daughter and run. The deeply urge-based lizard part of her brain wanted her to take Izzy and hide forever, somewhere no one could find them. If she pulled her daughter out of class, they could stay in her apartment—beneath the aptly named The Hideaway, the combined gym and art studio she owned—until she figured out what to do next. Where to go. How to react. The Briggstons could not discover Izzy.
She reached Izzy’s classroom door, yanked it open, and stepped inside. Twenty children turned to stare at her. Izzy cocked her head. Her teacher hurried over.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Cane?” the teacher asked.
What am I doing?
Holy crap, she needed to get a hold of herself. Izzy was safe in class. Michael had no idea she existed. The only thing she’d achieve by pulling her out of class for the day would be to attract unwanted attention. Izzy would be fine if Bex took a few hours to come up with a game plan, right?
Besides, she didn’t have time for a mental breakdown. She needed to sit down with someone and figure this out. But who? If she told her parents that Izzy’s uncle was in town, they’d freak out, and rightly so, but their panicking wouldn’t do anything to help the situation. There was no point in alarming them.
The only other person who knew the truth was her friend Kat. Bex had confessed the whole sordid story to her after a few glasses of wine, back in the days when Kat was stuck in a wheelchair and had a massive chip on her shoulder. Compared to Kat, Bex’s problems hadn’t seemed so bad. Now, Kat had her shit together, and Bex’s life was balanced precariously on the edge of chaos.
“Ms. Cane?” the teacher repeated.
“It’s nothing,” she replied, backing away. “Sorry. I’ve, uh, got to go.”
Making it to her car, she flopped in the driver’s seat and sighed, then took two minutes to collect her thoughts. Then she grabbed her phone from her bag and called Kat.
“Kia ora,” Kat answered, sounding out of breath. Despite the efforts of her boyfriend, Sterling, she was constantly on the go.
“Hey, girlfriend.” Bex tilted her seat back and stared at the roof. “You busy tonight?”
