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UPSTAIRS in her bedroom, Sally threw herself onto the rose satin quilt and gave way to a bitter storm of weeping. She was so disillusioned, so mad with herself. She’d stupidly –stupidly –allowed herself to fall heart and soul for a man who had no capacity for returning her love.
Last night, the most beautiful night of her life, she’d given Logan everything.Everything. They’d been so close. He’d shared his lovely fantasy – Brahms, wine, the red couch – and she was sure he’d felt true emotional connection, so much more than lust.
And she’d bared her soul to him, had told him he’d healed her of her fear.
How naïve she’d been. Now she knew there were many ways to be hurt. She couldn’t bear that Logan wasn’t in love with her. But that was the truth. Logan was only interested in her skills as a receptionist and as a dancing instructor and tonight, the second most wonderful night of her life, she’d been left with nothing but humiliation and heartbreak.
When she’d finished crying about that, Sally cried for Chloe, who had wanted her to be so happy here in Sydney, and she cried for Hattie, who had warned her about her grandson, but who’d also given her reason to hope.
Vain hope.
Sally’s throat, already sore before the tears had begun, ached unbearably now. And she was cold, as she lay on top of the bed in her scanty underwear, but she stayed there for ages, shivering and wracked by sobbing, too utterly miserable to climb sensibly under the covers.
It was a long time before her exhaustion and the cold stilled her tears. When she sat up, her head ached horribly. She ached all over and she thought, for an awful moment, that she might throw up. Dragging Chloe’s blue kimono about her, she staggered through to the bathroom to wash her face.
Her reflection in the mirror was shocking. Even after she’d washed away the black streaks of mascara, her eyes were red and puffy and her face was white with dark red blotches. Her hair was a mess of curls matted with hairspray and the blue topaz earrings winked in the mirror, mocking her. She remembered how happy and excited she’d been when she’d put them on, and almost started crying again.
Back in her bedroom, she carefully removed the earrings and put them in the velvet lined box. She undid the locket, felt again the cool, solid weight of it in her hands and turned it over, wondering about the times her godmother had worn this jewellery. She hoped they’d been happier times than tonight.
And as she climbed beneath the bedclothes, it occurred to her that she wasn’t really like Chloe at all. In her bid for independence, she’d been trying to live Chloe’s life, but now that she’d fallen helplessly in love, Sally understood that it wasn’t living in a big city or living the high life that made a person happy. Building a life together with the one special person you loved was the secret to happiness.
But Logan had a very different vision and he was so focused on his goal that he wouldn’t recognise a chance for lifelong happiness if it kissed him on the lips.
Or taught him to waltz.
Logan fretted and fumed as he paced the gleaming polished length of his penthouse. If ever a man deserved a booby prize for blunders, he did. From the day he’d first seen Sally Finch he’d made stuff-up after stuff-up.
His frantic gaze flashed to her gown, now lying where he’d flung it, a river of gold flowing over the red sofa. He pictured Sally as he’d seen her last, standing before him, like an avenging angel, with her head proudly high, her eyes shooting daggers while she looked utterly divine in her wispy, barely-there underwear. Before she’d sent him packing.
In spite of his self-loathing, Logan’s mouth twisted in a wry half-smile. What spunk Sally had! He was full of admiration for her. She was gutsy and warm-hearted, loyal and kind, clever and sexy – the list could go on and on.
In a word, she was perfect.
And he’d rejected her out of hand.
Tonight, she’d asked:What if you fall in love with someone before the five years are up?
And he’d told her in all seriousness:That won’t happen.
Fool! What a simpleton he was. An idiot. An arrogant, totally unthinking moron who’d flirted with an innocent, courageous and perfect girl, and then thoughtlessly seduced her and toyed with her emotions. Had toyed, unthinkingly, with his own emotions, as well.
Realising this, Logan remembered the challenge in Sally’s eyes.
You’ve never forgiven your father.
At the time he’d brushed her comment aside. He’d been too tense to stop, to give her accusation any consideration. But was Sally right? Did he hold a long-term grudge against his father? Had he allowed it to sour his life?
He feared Carissa would agree. And perhaps his mother would, too, even though she’d borne the brunt of his father’s failure.
But never once had his mother’s love faltered. She’d forgiven her husband for all the hardship he’d brought on her. She still adored the man she’d married.
Logan’s throat closed over a tight knot of pain. His parents were having the most wonderful time, travelling around Australia together in their little caravan. In spite of everything, life had always been an adventure for his mother.
Sally would see life as an adventure, too. Not as an endurance test, not as one long, dangerous minefield poised to detonate beneath her feet.
Through the plate glass window that faced the east, he saw glimmering pink threads of dawn. He thought about the sun rising and setting on his life, over and over for the next five years until he was free to throw off his chains and embrace his future.
Carissa had reminded him that five years amounted to sixty months. It was close on twothousanddays.
