Just Breathe (29 page)

She found the hotel, jagged a spot a block away. On the kerb, she pulled a crumpled skirt over her yoga tights, wiped residual sweat off her face and jammed her feet into sandals, checking herself in the car window. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a yoga class. Well, duh.

There was a crowd milling about the hotel. These awards must be a big deal. She could hear some kind of chanting as she got closer, slowed up a bit when she realised they were protestors obstructing the entrance. A placard read ‘Localism Not Commercialism’. They were singing the same thing.

Dee squeezed around them and through the automatic doors, their shouts abruptly cut off by the heavy glass.

‘I’m sorry, you can’t come in here.’ A security guard blocked her path. ‘Demonstrators are to remain on the street.’

Dee glanced back at the throng in the driveway. They all looked like they’d just stepped out of a yoga class too. ‘I’m not with them. I need to find the Young Entrepreneurs’ function.’ The guard was clearly doubtful. ‘I’m meeting Lucy Roxburgh.’ She took out her phone. ‘Should I call her?’

‘No, go ahead. It’s on the second floor.’ He stepped out of her way.

Wow, forward gear was assertive. She found the lift and followed a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes. The doors were closed but she could hear the rattle and hum of a large dinner in progress. The waiter pushed through. Dee went in behind him.

The room was huge. Large round tables were assembled in front of a stage. There must have been four or five hundred people there. None of them were dressed like they’d come from a yoga class. No leggings or singlets, only dinner suits and smart cocktail dresses. She tugged at the hem of her top, then saw an official with a name tag and chased him down.

‘I need to find Ethan Roxburgh.’ He cast suspicious eyes over her outfit. ‘I’ve got an urgent message.’

He scanned the room and pointed left. ‘At the front table.’

Of course. She took a wide arc around the room, cut in behind the front row. She could see the back of Lucy’s head, her dark hair glossy in the low light. Then she saw Ethan, several seats further around the table, bow tie, elegant hands, head turned away talking. Dee swallowed hard, invoked the Warrior Pose and pushed on.

As she neared the table, a man stepped towards her. ‘You lot had your say out the front. Have some respect and bugger off like the rest of your crowd.’

All around, heads turned. Dee’s face burned so hard she thought it might burst into flame. Oh, geez, forward gear was a little reckless. She should have thought this through. She should have changed her clothes.

‘I’ll handle this, Peter,’ Ethan said as he stood. He sidestepped Peter and looked down on her with delicious espresso eyes that were confused, wary, angry even. ‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was quiet, firm, almost an accusation.

You are a warrior, Dee. Breathe. She lifted her chin. ‘I need to talk to you.’

His jaw clenched and unclenched. ‘This is not the time or the place.’

Bad luck. Warriors don’t wait. ‘I need to talk to you
now
. Before you go to New York.’

He studied her a moment, eyes moving from her face to her clothes and back again. ‘What about?’

Dee took a breath, hesitated. Forward gear had been urgent, assertive and a little reckless. She hoped it was eloquent too. ‘About you … and, ah, me and, ah …’ Okay, so it wasn’t eloquent. ‘Can we go somewhere?’

‘There is no you and me. You made that –’

His last words were drowned out by an MC up on stage. ‘… And welcome to our patron, Mr Ethan Roxburgh.’ A spotlight illuminated Ethan’s empty seat. ‘Mr Roxburgh seems to have … ah, there he is.’ The spot whirled around to where he stood with Dee, bathing them both in glaring light. Ethan put up a hand, acknowledged the applause, smilingly thinly. ‘Mr Roxburgh will be joining me in just a few minutes for the first award presentation.’ More applause, more thin smiling.

Shit. This really wasn’t the time or place. She’d fucked it up. All of it. He was leaving for New York after this, would be gone for weeks. There wasn’t going to
be
any other time or place. She wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him or face her damn demons. ‘There is no you and me,’ he’d said. Maybe there was no point in saying anything. Tears threatened but she held his eyes with hers, hoping he’d hear something of the truth. ‘I’m sorry, Ethan.’

‘Hey, Dee.’ Lucy grabbed her arm, slipped in beside her. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. Now I
can go home and sleep.’ Lucy made to leave but was stopped by Ethan.

‘You can’t leave now,’ he growled.

Lucy gave him a try-and-stop-me look. ‘Dee’ll stay in my place.’

Dee’s eyes widened in surprise. She saw Ethan’s do the same before he frowned at his sister. ‘She isn’t …’

Lucy grabbed his arm and turned him away. ‘Excuse us a minute, Dee.’ She stood toe-to-toe with her brother, a head shorter but just as tight with simmering hostility. For a minute or more, they argued in strained whispers, then Lucy poked a finger in his chest, glared a second longer, turned smiling to Dee and raised her voice over the hum in the room. ‘Dee Nichols, no one can do bo-ho like you. You just have to take me shopping. I’ll call.’ She held a thumb and pinkie to her ear like a phone, winked before leaving.

The muscles in Ethan’s jaw bulged several times before he spoke. ‘Looks like you’re here for dinner.’ He took her elbow and addressed the guests at the table. ‘Sorry about the interruption. My sister’s not feeling well. Dee Nichols will be joining us. She’s quite familiar with the entrepreneurial world. She’s been building up her own business for the last few months.’ He smiled genially while she took her seat then glanced down on her with hard eyes.

So Lucy had handed her a double-edged sword. She had a chance to talk to Ethan before he left the country but he was pissed off, not likely to listen. It wasn’t a good way to start but, hell, it was better than being dumped outside with the protestors.

She smiled briefly at the woman on her left and cast eyes around the table. The other guests were talking amongst themselves, covertly sneaking peeks at the person who’d dropped in on Ethan Roxburgh and usurped his sister. Hardly a conducive environment for revealing her innermost thoughts. She’d have to get him away from here. Maybe out in the corridor. Across
the tableware, he stood to talk to a women then let her lead him away to the stage. Okay, maybe after the awards presentation.

Dee listened politely, applauding while winners filed onto the stage and shook hands with Ethan. He looked good up there. Interested and genuine. As he posed for photos, she turned to her neighbour. ‘So I guess everyone can party now the winners have been announced.’

‘Oh no. There are another four categories of awards.’ She showed Dee the list in the program. ‘Isn’t it wonderful how Mr Roxburgh insists on presenting all of them?’

‘Fabulous. So that should take about half an hour?’

‘No. We don’t like to bore everyone with a lot of talk. It works much better when it’s spread out over the night.’ She checked the program. ‘Mr Roxburgh wants to finish by ten-thirty. I believe he’s flying to the US tonight. It was so generous of him to make the time to come here first.’

Praise the lord for his generosity but now what? She could hardly drag him into the corridor between awards and say a quick ‘By the way, I think I can do the future thing and good luck with the next presentation’. She took a long gulp of wine, smiling lamely at him as he returned to his seat. Maybe she could do it across the table, some version of ‘The food is delicious, oh, and, by the way, I really need you’. She took a longer gulp of wine.

‘How do you know Mr Roxburgh?’ The question came from a woman several seats away.

Asked for advice, slept with him, missed the donkey’s butt, fucked it up. The woman obviously hadn’t read a newspaper lately. ‘He’s been giving me business advice.’ The guests, as one, turned to listen. Ethan raised an eyebrow as though asking ‘Is that it?’.

She saw the hardness in his eyes and the tired lines and knew then how much she’d hurt him. But he’d given her an opening. She might not get another. ‘Well, he helped me nail down
some serious issues, like being too focused on the short term.’ She hoped he got the double meaning. It was hard to tell. His gaze was still on her but his face said nothing.

The man beside her picked up the conversation. ‘Ethan’s very cluey at identifying critical issues.’

‘Yes, he is. Apparently I was planning my business around past problems, worried they’d come back and haunt me.’

Ethan moved his attention to his plate. Oh no, she was losing him.

The man pointed his knife at her, getting ready to speak again.

She hadn’t finished. ‘I also misinterpreted consumer demand. I didn’t understand the value of my product.’ Ethan lifted his wine glass to his lips, his dark irises directed at her over the rim. ‘And then there’s my packaging. Mine’s very different from my, ah, competitors and I thought people would be attracted to its earthiness then get sick of it and go back to the more sophisticated brands. It took a long time to believe mine was good enough.’

Ethan watched her across the table, hand on the stem of his glass, turning it slowly back and forth. Had he understood? She wasn’t about to find out anytime soon. The woman was back to shepherd him to the stage.

The man pointed with his knife again. ‘Environmental concerns are a major issue with packaging these days. My company has reduced its use of paper products by fifty per cent.’

Dee nodded, smiled. She couldn’t care less when Ethan Roxburgh, man of the dream she was too scared to have, might or might not think she was worth a second chance.

The entrée plates were replaced with main course and another discussion was in progress when Ethan returned. The guy with the knife wouldn’t shut up and, before she knew it, Ethan was on stage again being earnest and shaking more hands.

There was a round-table discussion about shares when he returned. Dee wanted to scream ‘Who cares?’. She was running out of time. At this rate Ethan would be flying to America thinking she’d gatecrashed the party to tell him she’d solved her career issues. Be a warrior, Dee.

‘Ah, yes, shares,’ she jumped in. ‘They can be very, um, useful. Although not as useful as … asset development.’ She smiled hopefully. Ethan frowned. Think, Dee. ‘That’s right. Ethan talks a lot about assets. And investment. Has some very interesting things to say on that matter.’

Shit. She was running out of business-type words. Running out of sense too, if the mystified faces around the table were anything to go by. Knife Guy was about to take the floor again.

‘The thing is,’ she cut in, determined to say her piece, ‘investing is such a scary thing. I mean, you could lose a lot and you might be frightened you’d never recover. But some things are worth investing in, even if you are scared. Even if it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done. It’s just that sometimes you don’t realise the rewards so completely outweigh the risks until you see that not investing is worse. Much worse. You know what I mean?’

The band started up with a drum roll, the da-da-da-ding like an end to her bad joke. Dee glanced anxiously about the group, saw irritated faces that seemed to confirm she’d stuffed up the punchline. Until she got to Ethan. His dessert was untouched, a hand was frozen on his wine glass and his eyes were locked on hers.

‘What are you saying, Dee?’ His voice was tight but there was a hint of uncertainty in it.

‘I don’t think she knows what she’s saying.’ Knife Guy looked at her like she was nuts. ‘Have you even got any investments?’

Dee didn’t answer, couldn’t really. She was pre-occupied watching Ethan stand, walk around the table, take her hand and draw her to her feet.

Behind her, the guy was still talking, rambling like he had all night. Ethan flashed him a look. ‘Sound advice, Mike, but Dee needs to dance now.’ He took her to the floor, held his hand at her waist. ‘Okay, you can quit with the business talk now.’

‘Thank God,’ she sighed with relief. ‘I was running out of words.’

‘You did that a while ago.’ He half-smiled but his body was taut. She was in his arms but there was still no you and me.

‘You wanted somewhere to talk. This is the best I can do at the moment, and talk fast because you’ve only got about three minutes before the next award.’

Shit. A clock was ticking and she had no idea where to start. She just had an aching need to tell him everything. ‘I’ve been scared for ten years, Ethan …’

‘I know all this. And, frankly, I don’t want to get into it again just because you feel bad about what happened. It’s done and I’d prefer to leave it at that.’

Dee’s breath caught in her throat like a large, painful chunk of dread. In a weird, masochistic way, it was reassuring. A comfort that the imminent prospect of losing him for good was worse than her fear of being hurt. That was a first. And it cleared her head and filled her with courage.

‘No, you don’t know. So shut up and listen because I haven’t got long.’ His eyebrows flickered fleetingly but he didn’t speak. ‘I thought I was scared of getting hurt but I’ve been kidding myself for years. I’ve been scared of being happy. I built a shield around myself so happiness couldn’t get in. And when you came along and kicked a hole in it, I was terrified and pushed you away. But now my shield is all broken and I can’t fix it and I don’t even want to.’

Ethan’s face gave nothing away but she thought he pulled her ever so slightly closer. God, she hoped she wasn’t imagining that. The dance floor was filling now and, as he turned her past
some other partners, she saw the woman heading for his seat at the table, coming to get him for the next presentation. Get to the point, Dee.

‘The thing is, I’m still scared. Not that you’ll hurt me. I was wrong to think that. I’m terrified of taking something good for myself.’ The woman was standing at his empty seat, scanning the room. ‘I wish I could tell you what you need to hear, that I’m ready to commit to whatever “us” happens to be. But I can’t. I’m not ready for that.’ The arm around her waist was loosening, beginning to slide away. She gripped his other hand tighter. ‘Letting you in is the biggest thing I’ve done since learning to walk again.’ The woman was on the dance floor, heading towards them. Dee spoke fast. ‘And the truth is, I don’t really care what the future holds. I just need you to be in it.’

The woman tapped his shoulder. They stopped moving, stood on the dance floor like a snap-shot of ballroom beginners. His eyes were dark, uncertain, hesitant. Her belly was clenched so tight she couldn’t breathe.

‘Mr Roxburgh?’ The woman spoke over his shoulder.

He nodded, dropped his hand from her waist and turned to leave. But his other hand was still in hers and she tightened her fingers on it, flexed her strong shoulders and pulled him back, whispering in his ear, ‘I love you, Ethan.’

Then she let him go, feeling stronger for having told him. She watched him follow the woman off the dance floor, saw the small smile on his face as he glanced back at her, and hope massaged the knot in her stomach.

There was a brief kerfuffle on stage as Ethan spoke with the MC, pointed to his watch before taking to the microphone again. Dee went back to her seat, took a long drink of wine. She was nervous, scared, excited, a little desperate. There was still another round of presentations to
go. Another half an hour before she could get him alone and find out what was going on behind his fabulous dark eyes. Maybe she could drag him into the corridor before the final award, pin him to a wall, kiss him so he’d believe her when she said she loved him.

His voice rang out over the microphone. ‘Unfortunately, I have to leave early tonight. I’d love to stay but I can’t convince Qantas to hold up an entire flight just for me. So I’ll present the last two categories now.’

Dee’s head shot up. She grabbed the arm of the woman beside her. ‘What time is it?’

‘Nine forty-five.’

She swung a look at Ethan on the stage, introducing nominees. He was scheduled to leave at ten-thirty. He was forty-five minutes early. Was he giving them time to talk before he left? Maybe time to kiss long and lustily? Or was he planning to escape out the fire exit without saying goodbye?

She watched him shake hands with the winners, pose for photos, smile appreciatively at the applause, then weave expertly through a sea of well-wishers to the table. She mentally clenched a fist in victory. Yes! The exit was the other way.

One eyebrow was raised inquiringly as he approached and a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. He pulled out her chair, took her elbow as she rose and turned to the table at large. ‘Thank you for your company. It’s been an enlightening evening.’

He steered a path for them through the crowd, his hand strong, warm, promising on her arm. Dee didn’t pin him against a wall in the corridor. She was too busy keeping pace with him – and the pictures in her head. A passionate kiss by his car. Intense embrace somewhere private on the way to the airport. A tearful farewell. Joyous return. Sunsets on his deck, breakfasts in bed, yoga in the patch of sunlight, the beach, art galleries, sailing, fabulous sex in any or all of the
above locations. By the time they’d reached the foyer of the hotel, she’d looked further into her future than she had in years. Four or five weeks ahead, at least. Maybe even six. And, wow, was it liberating. Like jumping into the ocean and finding you can swim.