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I give a small smile. Find a man who smudges your lipstick, not your mascara?
Mum: That’s right. Now you just need to work out which one’s which.
I swallow hard. I have no idea. At the moment I feel like bawling my eyes out when I think of either of them.
Me: I’ve got to get to work.
Mum: All right. Let me know how you get on.
Me: Will do.
I toss the phone onto the passenger seat, start the car, and head into the traffic.
By the time I get to Kia Kaha, it’s gone eight thirty. I park out the front, next to Henry’s precious BMW. He doesn’t let anyone drive it but me. Jesus, why I didn’t I realize what that meant before now?
I’m in love with you. I have been since the first time we met.
My head’s pounding. I need some Panadol. I have some in my office. I get out, lock my car, and, carrying my bag with my sari, head for the building.
Everything in Kia Kaha reminds me of Henry. I walk into the lobby and look at the beautiful stained-glass windows, the painting of Ranginui and Papatuanuku on the wall, the fountain surrounded by green plants and rocks, and feel as if he’s all around me, watching me. It makes a shiver run down my back.
The senior management team always meets first thing for a brief catchup to discuss the day ahead. Normally I’d walk past the boardroom to get to my office, but I know Henry will probably already be there, and if he’s not, he’s going to be in his office, so instead I turn left and skirt the main secretarial office and head for the treatment rooms.
Once I’m in my office with proper brick walls, I feel as if I can breathe a bit easier. I say good morning to Rose, the secretary who works for the physios, drop my bag off, make myself a coffee, and sit behind my desk to check through the morning’s post and my emails, although I end up just staring into space.
I jump when Rose puts her head in and tells me they’ve all gathered and I should head for the boardroom.
Collecting my cooling coffee and laptop, my heart hammering on my ribs, I walk past the guys’ empty offices.
We don’t have designated places around the boardroom table, but we often sit in the same seats—human habit, I guess. Alex is at the head of the table with his puppy, Zelda, lying by his feet, Tyson is sitting next to James on Alex’s right, and Henry is, as usual, sitting on the other side, with the chair next to him vacant.
Summoning my courage, I go through the automatic doors into the room and say, “Morning guys.”
“Morning,” they all say back, watching as I approach the table. I pull out the chair next to Henry and sit, then fuss Zelda as she comes up to say hello.
Tyson clears his throat. “I was just talking about the Sydney conference.”
I nod and open my laptop, type in my password, pull up Word, and open a new document. I put my phone on the table and adjust the angle of it. Then, finally, I glance at Henry.
He’s watching me. As he sees me look up, he smiles. Oh my God, he looks amazing. He’s wearing my favorite suit of his, a navy British-cut, with a white shirt and a light-blue tie. He looks crisp and formal, like a fucking soldier. Thank you for your service, sir. Ahhh…
I glance around the table. James is talking to Tyson, but Alex meets my gaze as I look at him.
He lifts an eyebrow.
My face burns as if I’ve been lying in the sun for a fortnight. Jesus, talk about a guilty complex.
He notices, and his lips curve up, just a tiny bit. Embarrassed at the thought that he knows what happened, I tear my gaze away and study my laptop. Did Henry tell him? Or is he just assuming?
“Would you like a coffee?” Henry asks me softly.
I look back up at him. I still have a third of a cup left, but it’s lukewarm. “Yes, please,” I murmur.
He gets to his feet, goes over to the table against the glass wall, and starts making me one. I fidget with my phone, trying not to think about how Cam never offers to make me a drink unless he’s having one himself.
Henry brings the cup back and places it before me, and takes his seat again. He picks up the Rubik’s cube and completes it while James and Tyson talk. Then, quietly, he places the finished cube on the table between us.
It’s just a toy, a plastic cube, but I know it’s a peace offering, as tender and gentle as a single rose. Without looking at Alex, I can see him watching us. If I ignore the cube, he’ll know something’s up. But accepting it means I’m accepting the gesture. I’ll be telling Henry that things are all right between us.
