“Nothing.” We were acting like grumpy teenagers, and I loved it. I missed that part of her. Ever since she got married, she shared all of herself with Max. Even when he was on tour and I had her all to myself, she didn’t need me in the same way she used to. And it would be the same with Harry if he really got married.
Christian and I had already discussed locations for our little impromptu holiday, but considering his main requirement was ‘protection from gunfire’, I didn't hold out much hope of those plans going ahead.
“Catherine!” Mallory called from the other side of the room. All eyes in the room swept to us. “We’re about to unwrap presents.”
Cat let out a heavy sigh while staring at her. “I could pretend I didn’t hear her, just stay here with you…”
“But…?”
“It’s better to go through the effort of standing up than listening to her chew my ear off as soon as all these lovely ladies have flown the proverbial coop.”
She flashed me a cheeky grin as she extended her hand. “Come on, as my child’s godfather, you’re obligated to help me up.”
“I’m wounded, Kitty Cat. I thought you’d chosen me for my undying loyalty and fantastic abs?” I offered her my arm so she could pull herself up.
“Yes, well, that too.” She winked, and it made me a tiny bit thankful she’d fallen back in love with Max.
If only I could be that strong.
Harry
Idon’t know how people handled those kinds of emotions without crying.
I could do boardroom meetings and family drama. I could handle arguments with Molly and high energy emergencies, but I couldn’t deal with Dom.
Sitting at my desk, I stared at my laptop screen, hoping that the empty document would somehow give me the answer. To what, I didn’t know. I just wanted an easy way out that meant I didn’t have to fight anymore.
I was only thirty-one, but I felt like I had spent my life battling, both inside and outside myself. As soon as I was born, the fight began, and I was still failing to win a fight I hadn’t even started myself.
There was a box of pastries in my bottom drawer again. Usually I settled for four, and snacked during the day, but when I walked through the door this morning, the patisserie saw my face and told me to wait. Five minutes later, she returned with a full box and told me I could pay her back by hiring her for our next conference.
She definitely understood.
Two slices of lemon cheesecake, one almond croissant and three profiteroles later, I felt sick. But the physical sensation was a relief, and let me focus on something other than the cloying guilt, disgust, and deep sadness that had been eating away at me since I left Dom five days ago.
I was stuck in a cycle of comparing what Molly said to me before she left, and how urgently Dom was trying to contact me.
I had at least fifty unread texts and seven voicemails, but I didn’t have the strength to look. I had meetings lined up for the entire week, Mum persistently circling me, the weight of Molly returning even though she hadn’t contacted me despite begging her to call.
It felt like it was so easy for her to dismiss me, ignore me, and reject the relationship we had built over three years in a few simple sentences before she ran out the door. I never thought I'd say someone only wanted me for my body, but it felt like I was just a tool for her to get off on.
I didn’t know what I was going to say to her when she came back. I couldn’t tell her what had happened with Dom, but my need to end things was pressing down on me, and I couldn’t do it over the phone. I wanted to sit down and really talk to her and give her the chance she never gave me.
But it was more weight to add to my already heavy load.
I wanted to shut it all down. Just close it like a book and leave the story there. End it on a cliffhanger and pretend it was done instead of having to face everything coming my way. Icould only keep telling myself I was strong for so long before everything broke beneath me.
I could feel I was close to crashing again. Every time it happened, I was stuck for days, drifting in and out of consciousness as my body caught up on all the sleep I’d denied it. Maybe I just needed Molly to come home and we could end things, and it would get better. Or I needed to get on top of my work. Or I needed to see Dom and drag him to me again, to taste him and stroke him, and really feel how much he wanted me.
I was bent over, reaching for another pastry when there was a knock on the door. No one but Anita or Cat ever knocked, so it was safe to leave the strawberry cream eclair out on my desk.
I said safe, but it didn’t stop Anita from glaring at it as she walked in, her nostrils flaring. She didn’t need to say anything, I knew what she was thinking.
“Mrs Fischer is here. I told her you were busy,” she said as I took my first mouthful.
“It’s fine, send her in. I’m in the mood to be tortured.”
Anita pursed her thin lips as I hid the eclair back in my desk, tugging a tissue from the box on the left and wiping my hands. Listening to Mum for half an hour would distract me at least.