in school taught you not to aim higher?’
The words hung, unanswered, between them. It was the first time either of them had ever acknowledged what had happened that night. How actively she’d focused her attention on Blake rather than on him. Almost to the point of rudeness.
And also hovering out there, in bright neon, was his presumption that Blake was somehow less . But deep down he knew that to be true—at least when it came to Audrey.
Audrey was never meant to be Blake’s.
Not in a just world.
Indecision swam across her gaze, and he watched her trying to decide what was safe to reveal. When she did speak it was painfully flat and her eyes drifted slightly to his left. ‘Blake was within reach.’
Low-hanging fruit.
Oliver flopped back against the rear of his sofa, totally lost for words, understanding, just a little bit, what Audrey had just said about vindication. He’d always wondered what drew Audrey to Blake instead of him that day, but such thoughts were arrogant and unkind given Blake was supposedly his best friend. So he’d swallowed them. Buried the question mark way down deep.
And now he had his answer.
An absurd kind of hope—totally at odds to the conversation they were having—washed through him.
Audrey didn’t pick Blake because she deemed him the better man...
He was just the safer man.
Just like that, a whole side of her unfolded like spreading petals revealing an aspect to her he’d never suspected.
‘It kills me to think that my mother would have harboured those kinds of feelings about herself and that my father would have reinforced them...’
Did she realise that when he said ‘my mother’ he really meant Audrey? And instead of his father, he meant himself? To imagine this extraordinary woman sitting in that bar all those years ago, smiling and chatting and sipping her drink and all the while going through a mental process that ended in her deciding she wasn’t worthy—
She! The finest of women.
It killed him.
‘You know her best,’ Audrey murmured. ‘I’m just hypothesising how she might have allowed that to happen. Everyone has a different story.’
Her furious back-pedalling made sense to him now. She’d exposed herself and so she was retreating to safer ground. But no, he wasn’t about to let her do that. Not when he’d finally made some headway into knowing her.
Really knowing her.
He reached forward and took her hand. ‘I wish I could impress upon her just how amazing a woman she is.’
She swallowed twice before answering. ‘You could just tell her.’
‘Do you think she’d believe me?’ His thumb traced the shape of her palm. ‘Or would she look for the angle?’
Hints of alarm etched across her expression. ‘If you say it often enough eventually she’ll have to believe you.’
Was it that simple? Could simple reinforcement undo the lessons—the experience—of years?
He released his breath slowly and silently. ‘I would have seen you, Audrey. I give you my word.’
Because she was special, though, not because he was, particularly.
She tipped her head back towards the sofa-top. ‘I could have done with a champion.’
Chivalrous wasn’t exactly what he was feeling now, but he absolutely would have defended her against those who would have caused her this hurt. Who would have changed her essence.
He would have taken on half the school for her.
‘And I could have done with your strength. And your maturity.’
She smiled, gently slipped her hand out from his and sat back against her seat. ‘Really? Were you a wild child?’
Ah. Back to safety. Any topic other than her.
But he let her go, incredibly encouraged now that he’d picked up the key to getting inside her. Because the beautiful thing about keys was that you could use them as and when required. And in between you tucked them away somewhere safe.
This one he tucked away in a pocket deep inside his chest and he let her have the breathing space she obviously needed.
‘Oh,
The words hung, unanswered, between them. It was the first time either of them had ever acknowledged what had happened that night. How actively she’d focused her attention on Blake rather than on him. Almost to the point of rudeness.
And also hovering out there, in bright neon, was his presumption that Blake was somehow less . But deep down he knew that to be true—at least when it came to Audrey.
Audrey was never meant to be Blake’s.
Not in a just world.
Indecision swam across her gaze, and he watched her trying to decide what was safe to reveal. When she did speak it was painfully flat and her eyes drifted slightly to his left. ‘Blake was within reach.’
Low-hanging fruit.
Oliver flopped back against the rear of his sofa, totally lost for words, understanding, just a little bit, what Audrey had just said about vindication. He’d always wondered what drew Audrey to Blake instead of him that day, but such thoughts were arrogant and unkind given Blake was supposedly his best friend. So he’d swallowed them. Buried the question mark way down deep.
And now he had his answer.
An absurd kind of hope—totally at odds to the conversation they were having—washed through him.
Audrey didn’t pick Blake because she deemed him the better man...
He was just the safer man.
Just like that, a whole side of her unfolded like spreading petals revealing an aspect to her he’d never suspected.
‘It kills me to think that my mother would have harboured those kinds of feelings about herself and that my father would have reinforced them...’
Did she realise that when he said ‘my mother’ he really meant Audrey? And instead of his father, he meant himself? To imagine this extraordinary woman sitting in that bar all those years ago, smiling and chatting and sipping her drink and all the while going through a mental process that ended in her deciding she wasn’t worthy—
She! The finest of women.
It killed him.
‘You know her best,’ Audrey murmured. ‘I’m just hypothesising how she might have allowed that to happen. Everyone has a different story.’
Her furious back-pedalling made sense to him now. She’d exposed herself and so she was retreating to safer ground. But no, he wasn’t about to let her do that. Not when he’d finally made some headway into knowing her.
Really knowing her.
He reached forward and took her hand. ‘I wish I could impress upon her just how amazing a woman she is.’
She swallowed twice before answering. ‘You could just tell her.’
‘Do you think she’d believe me?’ His thumb traced the shape of her palm. ‘Or would she look for the angle?’
Hints of alarm etched across her expression. ‘If you say it often enough eventually she’ll have to believe you.’
Was it that simple? Could simple reinforcement undo the lessons—the experience—of years?
He released his breath slowly and silently. ‘I would have seen you, Audrey. I give you my word.’
Because she was special, though, not because he was, particularly.
She tipped her head back towards the sofa-top. ‘I could have done with a champion.’
Chivalrous wasn’t exactly what he was feeling now, but he absolutely would have defended her against those who would have caused her this hurt. Who would have changed her essence.
He would have taken on half the school for her.
‘And I could have done with your strength. And your maturity.’
She smiled, gently slipped her hand out from his and sat back against her seat. ‘Really? Were you a wild child?’
Ah. Back to safety. Any topic other than her.
But he let her go, incredibly encouraged now that he’d picked up the key to getting inside her. Because the beautiful thing about keys was that you could use them as and when required. And in between you tucked them away somewhere safe.
This one he tucked away in a pocket deep inside his chest and he let her have the breathing space she obviously needed.
‘Oh,
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