CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LAINEY SAT IN the middle of her room, surrounded by boxes. They were labelled—not with descriptions of the items inside, but with names. Imogen. Corinna. Mum. She’d divided her not-so-worldly possessions into two piles—keep and discard. The keep pile was further sorted into boxes for the person who would appreciate the items most.
For some reason, it reminded Lainey of a will reading. She was going, and all that would be left of her was an insanely large shoe collection and her childhood set of The Powerpuff Girls on VHS. She should have appointed an executor for her stuff. That way she could whisk herself off to London and leave someone else to deal with it all.
She popped the lid on a dusty plastic tub that was packed to the brim with memories—her grade-six polo top with all the signatures of her friends written in puffy fabric pens. A tattered-looking friendship bracelet with the silver beads containing the initials C, L and I. A photo album wrapped in a My Little Pony pillow case, the cover dusted with pink glitter from some stickers that had shed sparkling particles all over the place.
She flipped it open and grinned. The first page had three almost identical shots of her, Corinna and Imogen in some awful-looking hipster jeans with super-wide belts, strappy metallic halter tops and silver lipstick. In each photo, one of the girls was making a silly face while the other two laughed. They’d never been able to get a shot with the three of them looking good all at once. The Goof Balls, her mother had called them.
Lainey flipped through the album, her heart sinking with each page. Through every up and down, these girls had been by her side. Through every terrible hair phase, every eyebrow-plucking accident, every celebrity obsession and every tearstained heartbreak, Imogen and Corinna were woven into her life. There was no part of Lainey’s history that didn’t include them.
She flipped to the last page and found a loose photo. The image caused her heart to stutter. Scrawled in pen was a date ten years ago. New Year’s Day. Lainey had still had her natural mousy hair then, and it hung down to her waist without a kink. On her head she wore a plastic tiara with “Happy New Year” in glittering letters. She held a giant slice of watermelon.
But her eyes weren’t on the camera or the food. They looked up to Damian. He’d been in his early twenties then, muscular and tanned. Yet his face was soft and free, his grey eyes crinkled with laughter. The emotional scars hadn’t yet turned his jaw to stone.
The memory shot through her like a firework—she’d gone to Corinna’s place to celebrate with the McKnights. They’d bought a watermelon and hacked it into pieces. Damian had been a little hungover and thus, not paying attention, he’d bit into the melon and a pip had shot across the table and hit Imogen square between the eyes. They’d laughed until tears had streamed down their faces.
Lainey didn’t remember staring at Damian, but the open adoration was captured brilliantly in the photo. On the back, she’d written “if only” and the date in purple ink.
If only he hadn’t let Jenny ruin his heart. If only they hadn’t wasted the years since his divorce with her being too chicken to tell him how she really felt and him looking at her as though she was too young, when she wasn’t.
“Is it safe to come in?” Corinna asked as she and Imogen poked their heads into Lainey’s room. “Are we likely to die under an avalanche of stilettos?”
“It’s safe.” Lainey found her throat tight, the words struggling to slip past the lump blocking her airway.
“What’s wrong?” Corinna’s smile disappeared as she kicked off her work pumps and dropped down cross-legged next to Lainey.
“Ah, you’re taking a trip down memory lane.” Imogen bent down and picked up the album, flipping through and laughing. “Oh, God, Corinna. What were you thinking with that hair?”
She turned the album around and Corinna cringed. “I look like a skunk with those chunky highlights.”
Lainey swallowed against the lump in her throat and forced herself to smile at Imogen. “So, what’s the latest with your sister and Dan?”
“Ugh, don’t ask.” Imogen shook her head. Ever since the ball, she’d been quiet about her mission. “It’s a mess.”
Corinna raised a brow. “Why?”
“I had to get someone else involved. A guy from work who knows him.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “But I feel like he’s trying to hold it over my head. I never should have asked him to help me.”
The pink flush turned darker still, and Lainey had a feeling there was a whole lot more to the story than that. But there was one thing she knew about Imogen—she’d only talk when she was ready.
Pushing her for information never went down well.
“Are you taking all your albums with you?” Corinna asked, turning to Lainey.
“I can’t.” She shook her head. “No space.”
Imogen patted her arm. “I can babysit them for you.”
“I thought I’d be okay with all this.” To her horror, hot tears pooled in Lainey’s eyes and no amount of furious blinking would chase them away. They splashed onto her cheeks and rolled toward her chin. “Am I making a huge mistake?”
“No.” Corinna put an arm around her shoulders. “Not if you’re going to London rather than running from Melbourne.”
“How can I do one without the other? It’s two sides of the same coin.” She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand along her cheek.
“If you’re going somewhere, it’s a forward-momentum thing—you’re chasing an opportunity or an experience. If you’re simply leaving Australia because you want to run away, and London is where you happen to land, then it’s not moving forward, is it?”
“Do you remember that day?” Lainey asked, scooting over so the three of them could sit together in the small space between her bed and her closet.
“Yeah, I feel like I still have an indent in my head from that damn pip,” Imogen said drily.
Corinna laughed. “How could we forget it? We had that slip-and-slide thing in the backyard and you decided to take the cat on it.”
“I did!” A heartfelt laugh burst from Lainey’s lips. “She scratched the hell out of my arm and wouldn’t go near me for months. We were so stupid back then.”
“We?” Imogen asked in mock indignation. “Speak for yourself. I knew that was a bad idea at the time and told you as much. You were too busy trying to impress Damian and his mates.”
“Not his mates,” she said with a sigh. Worry coiled tight inside her. She’d never seriously admitted to her feelings in front of Corinna before. All the previous times she’d covered the words with bluster and exaggeration. “Just him.”
Guilt gnawed at her. This was the only thing she’d ever kept from Corinna, without at least having the intention to fess up at a later date. How had she thought it possible to walk away and act like none of it ever happened—the ball, the weekend with Damian? Dragging Imogen into her lies?
“I told him once to stay away from you,” Corinna said, wrapping an arm around Lainey’s shoulder. “After the divorce. I said if he ruined our friendship I’d never forgive him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I don’t think he took me too seriously. But I saw how he looked at you then.” Corinna sighed. “And I was jealous. You two always had this spark and I knew you had a crush on him and, well, all the boys had crushes on you. Ever since we were teenagers.”
“They did not.” She rolled her eyes.
“That summer you dyed your hair white-blond and got your braces off, I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous. Everyone looked at you, and I was still in my ugly duckling phase.” She adjusted the glasses on her nose. “After he split with Jenny, I caught Damian watching you when you came over for a swim, and I was furious. It was so stupid, but I wanted someone to look at me like that. In hindsight, I wish he’d ended up with you instead of her.”
“I slept with him.” Lainey blurted the words out, unable to carry the guilt a second longer. Then the fear of knowing she’d crossed a line whipped through her—confessions could never be taken back.
Corinna sat up straighter and snapped her head toward Lainey. “When?”
Imogen bit down on her lip, her eyes swinging back and forth between her friends. But she didn’t say a word.
“Recently.” Lainey swallowed. “I had it in my head that since I was leaving...”
“It might be your last chance?”
“Yeah.”
Corinna’s expression was hard to read, but she didn’t look as though she were about to fly off the handle. “And you’re still leaving?”
“Sex doesn’t change that.” She waited for Corinna to make her usual fake-disgusted reaction, but her best friend was uncharacteristically serious.
“Is that all it was?”
“Do you even want to be talking about this? It’s your brother.” The tears prickled her eyes again, and Lainey tipped her face upward, begging them to stop. “I know how you feel about something happening between us. I thought you’d be furious.”
“It’s not like I didn’t see it coming a mile away.” She brushed her thumb over the photo. “Honestly, I thought one of you would have caved earlier than this.”
“You’re really not mad at me?” Lainey asked.
Corinna shook her head. “Like I said, there’s always been something between you two. And I know now that sometimes you can’t help who you fall for. Joe wasn’t the man I thought I would end up with.”
“You seem so perfect together.”
“We are, but I had it in my head that I’d marry some ambitious lawyer type. A career guy who wanted the great Aussie dream.” She shrugged. “Instead I met a schoolteacher who wants to move to the beach and have a veggie garden and a couple of chickens...and I couldn’t be happier.”
“You two are total opposites.” A strange expression washed over Imogen’s face. “It’s nice. Balanced.”
The pressure slowly eased out of Lainey’s chest. Keeping secrets from Corinna had been weighing her down, forcing the spring out of her step. But worse still was the growing fear that running away to London would do nothing to ease the ache in her chest. That no matter how many continents and oceans she put between them, Lainey would never be over Damian.
“He didn’t treat you badly, did he?” Corinna picked at a frayed patch on Lainey’s carpet. “I know he doesn’t mean to be a dick, but he hasn’t been himself the last few years. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even recognise him anymore.”
“He was great,” she said. “Treated me like I was special even though I’m not.”
“Don’t say that.” Imogen frowned. “You are special.”
“Not enough, apparently. If I was that great, he would have wanted me for more than a weekend.”
Corinna looked at her pointedly. “Did you ask him for more?”
Lainey bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Well, no... I mean, he knew I was leaving. There was never any discussion about it.”
“Then why would he suggest more if he knew you had this amazing career opportunity overseas?”
Lainey wanted to scream at her friends to stop giving her hope—to stop inviting her to leave room for that tiny, blissful bubble of what-if, because it wasn’t going to happen. If she went to Damian now, heart on her sleeve, he would break her. Ruin her.
Aren’t you already broken? If you were fine, you wouldn’t be sitting on the floor crying over an old photograph. Whether you tell him or not, you’ll never escape how you feel.
“What if I go to him and it was just sex?” she whispered.
“Does that change anything in the grand scheme of things?” Corinna cocked her head. “I mean, if you’re leaving anyway, isn’t it better to know?”
“Cori’s right,” Imogen said. “You can’t get closure if you’re still wondering how he really feels.”
Lainey had no idea which option she preferred. Leaving now without seeing Damian would mean a lifetime of asking herself what might’ve happened. But if she went to him and he rejected her...
Would she be able to move on? She honestly didn’t know.
Lainey caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror across the room. Her hair gleamed like scarlet silk, rich and bold and vibrant. It wasn’t a colour one wore to blend into the background, even though it had been intended as a disguise. Pushing up from the floor, Lainey went to her handbag and pulled out the compact.
“That damn compact.” Corinna laughed and shook her head. “How did I not figure it out then?”
This one little item had brought her back to Damian after that fateful night. What might’ve happened if she’d never dropped it in the limo? They might not have spent last weekend together. She might never have known that they were perfect together. That they were perfectly balanced. She ran her fingertip over the LK embroidered in the flowers.
Do it.
The voice in her head started as a whisper and grew until the words pounded in time with the rush of blood in her veins.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
She sucked in a breath. Her friends were right—there was a difference between going to England and leaving Australia. She didn’t want her doubts following her to a new country. It was confession time.
She loved Damian McKnight and had for as long as she could remember. And now she was going to tell him.
* * *
Damian couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face as victory pumped through his veins. He’d been staring at the email for a full five minutes, revelling in the knowledge that he’d won. Jerry McPartlin was going to sign as a client.
They’d met earlier this week, and Damian had pulled out all the stops. He’d worked with his top consultant, the two of them dazzling McPartlin & Co. with all the ways they could improve the business—cost-cutting through efficient processes, giving him more money without the need to lay off employees, not to mention implementing a talent-retention program to lower their turnover rate, thus keeping the people they’d invested in. The pitch had required back-to-back all-nighters, meaning Damian had slept on the couch in his office. But it’d been worth it.
Victory.
He couldn’t wait until his phone lit up with Ben’s number. His old boss would be livid. Served him right—karma was going to bite that bastard where it hurt.
The strange thing was, Damian’s natural instinct made him want to call Lainey, to share his good news with her, to thank her for her role in helping him land the biggest deal of his career. Because his hard work would have meant nothing without her by his side—she’d charmed the McPartlins, played the perfect sweet and sassy balance to his harder personality. All without judging him, without making him feel bad for chasing his career with an insatiable hunger.
She got him. Understood him. Had never once tried to change him.
He scrolled through the contact list on his phone until he found her name. But before he had a chance to call her, his intercom buzzed.
“Damian, your 4:00 p.m. conference call has been pushed. Stacy said they needed another twenty-four hours to get the information you’ve requested for the case study.” The sound of fingernails clicking against a keyboard filled the pause. “And Lainey Kline is here to see you, but she doesn’t have an appointment.”
“That’s okay.” His heart thumped. “Send her in.”
A second later, Lainey walked through the doors like the very embodiment of his desires. She always sent a jolt of electricity to his libido, and the feeling had only grown stronger since their weekend together.
“Hey,” she said, her hands fiddling with the end of her long red ponytail. Today she looked different. There was no dramatic makeup, no fitted clothing or sky-high heels—none of her usual attention-grabbing tactics, in fact. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re always welcome here,” he said, gesturing for her to have a seat. “I was going to call you, anyway.”
“You were?” A smile ghosted across her lips.
“I signed Jerry McPartlin.” He clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “And I owe you a celebratory drink. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” She ran her hands over the floaty hem of her white cotton dress. The stark contrast with her flame-red hair made her look like a firework against a black-and-white background—like she was the only bit of colour he could see.
“My first meeting with the man was a disaster.” He laughed. “If it wasn’t for you going along with the whole fake-fiancée thing, I doubt he would have given me a second chance.”
“I’m glad I could help. I know he’s an important client.”
“He is.” For some reason he felt a little less victorious than he had the moment the email had popped into his inbox—would Lainey still be happy she helped if he told her the full story? “He was my old boss’s client.”
Her brows dipped into a frown, as if she was unsure of the significance of that detail.
“Jenny was having an affair with him. My boss...ex-boss.” He cleared his throat, startled by the rush of anger that resurfaced fresh and raw. How many years would pass before those feelings stopped? “I found them. Together.”
She blinked. “I had no idea.”
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.” He sucked in a breath. “The worst thing was that it started as a revenge screw. She didn’t want me starting my own business because it would mean even longer hours and she thought I neglected her enough as it was. She told me if I was a good husband then she never would have had to go elsewhere.”
“That’s a load of bullshit.” She pursed her lips. “And it certainly doesn’t excuse an affair.”
“Well, my boss was a bastard, and when I resigned he told me I’d never make it to the big leagues, that I’d never be on his level. He’d hired me to be his gofer and nothing more.”
“So you stole his client?” Lainey asked.
“His favourite client.”
She picked at the embroidery curving around the hem of her dress. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You were involved.” He shrugged. “I thought you had a right to know.”
“If you thought that, you would have mentioned it before I got involved.” She looked up. “Do you still love her?”
“Jenny?” He reeled. “Fuck, no. Not after what she did.”
“But you’re still clinging to her.” Her expression was soft and sad and not at all what he’d expected. “This whole revenge thing says you’re not over what happened. You said yourself it’s the reason you couldn’t stay in the apartment. She’s still part of your life even if you don’t want her to be.”
Damian’s mind whirred. He knew he didn’t love Jenny anymore. That was a certainty. But her betrayal haunted his every move. Mocked his every step toward success, telling him it would never be enough. He would never be enough. Not until he proved that they’d been wrong to doubt him.
That was why McPartlin was so important. Landing this client was the key to him being able to move on, because it was proof he’d become successful...wasn’t it?
Is that really the kind of success you want?
“She’s not part of my life anymore,” he gritted out.
Lainey shook her head. “But you haven’t had a real relationship since.”
“Because I don’t want one.” He swallowed. “I told you that.”
“Why did that change?” Frustration gave her voice an edge, subtle enough that most people wouldn’t hear it. But he did, because he knew her. “Was it due to her cheating, or something else?”
“I was sick of having to take sides between her and my career. I didn’t want to be in that position again.”
“Bullshit.” She folded her arms.
“You think I’m lying?” He planted his hands on his desk, his fingers curling against the polished wood.
“I think you’re deluding yourself. If what you said was true, you would have broken things off with her before you found her cheating. Or if you knew things were going to end anyway, you wouldn’t still be pissed about it years later.”
Her ability to see right through his facade was borderline terrifying. No one had ever done that before. He was damn good at projecting the image he wanted, cultivating a persona that kept the real him safely tucked away, protected from harm. But Lainey was smashing through his defensive walls with a battering ram.
“And I’m supposed to take relationship advice from you?” He regretted the words the second they slipped out in a misguided need for self-defence.
Way to go, dickhead. You’ve attacked the person whose opinion you care about.
The realisation chilled him. He did care about Lainey’s opinion. A lot. Why else would he be airing his dirty laundry to her? He didn’t want to lie.
“The thing is, I know where my issues come from. I’m not in denial about who I am.” Her voice wobbled, and that unsteady sound was like a knife through his heart. “The reason I date all those idiots is because I know I can’t have the man I truly want.”
The blood stilled in Damian’s veins. She could only say one of two things next, and he didn’t want to hear either of them. Because if she loved someone else, he wasn’t sure he could stand it. And if she loved him...
Shit. How could he have let this get so out of control? He never should have taken her back to his place the night of the dinner. It was the stupid strength of lust and desire that had allowed him to ignore his own rules. No other woman had gotten to him after Jenny. He’d only ever satisfied physical need. Sure, he’d felt attracted to other women. But that was it. Something he could swallow down as easily as a pill.
But with Lainey his control slipped away like water through his fingers.
Her lip trembled. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
She’d led him to a fork in the path, forcing him to stop and look ahead. Forcing him to decide. When she left his office, something would be cemented—either she would be part of his life or she’d leave for good.
“I’m not sure I want to know,” he said.
“Well, I need to tell you.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “I love you, Damian. I always have.”