My lips curve up. “Yeah, okay. Bye.”
I walk away, heading for the club. Already, doubt is setting in. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I can comfort myself that the contract stated that kissing would be necessary at times, but Chessie’s not as good at lying to herself. Is she already worrying about what it means?
Glancing over my shoulder at her, I see her bending to look at her new plants, and I can just hear her voice joining in with the sound of the tuis and fantails—she’s singing.
I turn the corner and head off to the lobby, smiling.
Chapter Seventeen
Kingi
On the way back to my office, I send Sabrina a text and ask whether she’s in this afternoon, and if she’d be willing to meet up for a coffee and a chat. I expect to either hear nothing or to get a rude text back, but to my surprise, less than five minutes later she replies to say yes, she’ll meet me, and suggesting the coffee shop in her apartment block at 3 p.m.
I put it to the back of my mind while I meet with a couple of city execs who want to talk about the development of a new office block in the CBD, then catch up on some work while I have lunch at my desk—a perfect Caesar salad made by our French chef.
While I eat, I realize how little I know about Sabrina. We only dated for a few weeks, and in that time, we didn’t have any heart to hearts. We mostly met at parties and restaurants, or when other people were present, and even when she did come back to my place, after we had sex we still didn’t talk much. I feel a bit ashamed of that now.
Wanting to be prepared, I do a Google search and click on a few links, and what I find totally shocks me. I sit in stunned silence for a while, Chessie’s words playing over in my mind:Remember the fable about the North Wind and the Sun? Persuasion is always better than force.
Hmm. Maybe she’s right.
Eventually, I pick up my phone and call Mikaere from the Foundation to run an idea past him.
After that, I go out to my car and head for the ferry. It’s a gorgeous May Day, and I park the car, make my way up to the deck, then get a coffee from the shop. It’s not long before we get going, and I lean on the railing and sip my latte, looking downat the dolphins swimming alongside the boat and thinking about Chessie.
I’m sure it was difficult for her to mention going to see Sabrina, but I think she understands that I need to put this ghost to rest. I behaved badly with Sabrina, and for some reason, Tane’s clause about acting like a gentleman stung. He might well have had Sabrina in mind when he wrote it, and I understand that. She was right at the ball—I treated her like shit and then wondered why she reacted badly. She’s a person with feelings, and she obviously liked me and wanted our relationship to develop, and I discarded her like an old sock without a second thought.
I’m ashamed, and I need to try and put it right. Will Sabrina be amenable to a truce? Or will she continue to be spiteful after she realizes I’m not going over to try and win her back?
I ponder on that as the ferry draws into the terminal, and I make my way back to the Porsche and head the car out.
The lower half of her apartment block is a hotel, with the upper half containing very upmarket apartments going for a couple of million and more. I park the car just down from the block, walk to the building, and find my way to the coffee shop. I’ve just ordered myself another latte when I glance over at the door and see her come in.
I don’t know what I expected; she’s always been dressed to the nines every time I’ve seen her, usually with perfect hair, nails, and makeup. Today, though, she’s wearing a light-gray tracksuit, albeit a designer one. Her hair is in a ponytail, and instead of high heels she’s wearing trainers. Her makeup is still immaculate, but done with neutral shades rather than bright colors.
“Hey,” I say as she approaches. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”
She slides her hands into the pockets of her tracksuit top. “What do you want?”
“Can I buy you a coffee?”
She looks past me at the assistant behind the counter and says, “Trim cappuccino please.”
He nods and starts making it.
“How are you?” I ask her politely.
“Fine.”
I wonder whether I should point out that if she’s pregnant, she shouldn’t really be drinking coffee. I decide that’s probably not a good way to start the conversation.
We wait in silence until our drinks are ready, then take them over to a table by a window overlooking a side garden. We sit and sip our coffees. I’d run through several conversation starters in my head, but now she’s sitting here before me none of them seem to work.
“You look nice today,” I say, meaning it.
She looks down at herself. Then her lips twist. “I thought you’d like the outfit.”
Oh… Realization sinks in. She’s dressed this way because she wants to look like Chessie. She thinks this is what I want.