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“That’s a lot of resentment,” Wesley remarked, calm as could be. Michael wanted to hit him, just so he’d react. “How long have you needed to say all of that?”
“A while.”
“Good.” Wesley stood, and crossed his arms. “Now it’s my turn.” He rounded the table. “Did you ever think that maybe it’s easier not always being in the spotlight? Mum and Dad have their hopes pinned on me winning this election. If I don’t, I’m going to have to hear about it at every family gathering until the end of time. That’s a lot of pressure.” He scowled. “I tolerate it because I want to make a difference, and being prime minister is the surest way I know to do that, but every move I make is documented. Do you know how many lies I had to tell to get away from work long enough to come here? It’s ridiculous. There are days when I’d kill to be the beloved school principal in a town the size of this one, where it doesn’t matter if I fuck up because nobody is watching. Nobody cares.”
“Nobody cares,” Michael scoffed. “That’s your argument for why it’s better to be me than you?” Despite his temper, his lips twitched. It was such a typically Wesley thing to say. Did he not realize that Michael’s job was important too? “Do you really think that’s helping?”
Wesley rubbed his temples. “I don’t even know what I think anymore. Just that I could see the appeal of hiding away in one of those prepper bunkers for a few months and hoping everyone forgot about me.”
How had he never known that?
“I always thought you loved the attention.”
“I love being in a position to make change,” Wesley corrected. “I’m not caught up in all the trappings the same way Mum and Dad are. But this isn’t about them. It’s about you and Bex. You need to talk to her.”
Michael took a deep breath, somehow feeling more together than he had in days. “I will tomorrow.” He stuck out a hand. “Are we good?”
“Yeah.” Wesley gripped it firmly. “I think we’ve got a lot more to talk about, but we’re good.”
Bex’s phone pinged,signaling that a new email had arrived. She rolled over in bed because she couldn’t sleep anyway and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, then froze at the sight of the sender’s name: Imogen Briggston.With trembling fingers, she swiped the email open and read the text.
Rebecca,
I was most disturbed to learn of the existence of your daughter, Isobel, and that my son has taken it upon himself to meet her. Not only did you renege on our agreement, but the consequences of your choice are arising at the worst possible time in Wesley’s illustrious career. If you care for my son at all, please tell him he is not welcome in your life and send him back to us. A scandal such as this could cost him everything. While you and I may have rarely seen eye to eye, I am confident that you once wanted the best for him, and I hope you still do.
Anxiously awaiting your reply.
Imogen
Bex read the email twice more, then closed it and placed her phone aside. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts rioting. How had Imogen obtained her email address? From the gym website? This was the first she’d heard from the other woman since she left, still pregnant with Izzy, and it unsettled her. If she needed more evidence that everything was about to fall apart, this was it.
But why would Imogen believe she had the ability to sway Wesley? He was pig-headed when he wanted to be, and once he’d set a course, nothing could change it. His mother’s actions smacked of desperation, and Bex worried what she’d do if denied. She imagined Imogen was sitting by her phone, eagerly waiting for a response, but Bex couldn’t give her one yet. Not until she’d calmed down enough to figure out the best thing to say. At the moment, she was too worked up.
Her phone pinged again, and she considered ignoring it but curiosity got the better of her. This time, it was Michael. A smile broke over her face.
Michael:I miss you. Sorry I’ve been so busy. Dinner tomorrow?
Finally.
She could see him, hug him, and get some answers, then ask for his opinion on what to do about his mother.
Bex:I’d like that. Miss you too. See you then. XO
The next day,sitting in the car outside school, Bex checked her watch. She’d been waiting for Izzy to appear through the gates for twenty minutes now. The kids who’d been in after-school detention had just left, and Shane was packing away his traffic warden sign. The grounds were empty.
Where was her daughter?
She fished her phone out of her purse, and spotted several missed calls from Michael. Perhaps he’d taken Izzy somewhere. She called his number, but he didn’t answer. Voicemail kicked in, but she noticed Shane returning inside the gates and decided to chase after him rather than leave a message. She climbed out and locked her car.
“Shane,” she called. “Have you seen Izzy?” Maybe she’d gone home with one of her friends, but forgotten to ask permission. It’d happened before.
Shane shook his head, a line forming between his brows. “I haven’t, sorry. Usually she’ll come up and say hi, so I doubt she slipped by without me noticing her.”
Bex felt sick to her stomach. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Your parents don’t have her?”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll check.”
