Just My Luck (31 page)

“I
do
want you, though,” he said with obvious exasperation. “I just said so! And you’re right, I
can’t
stand that. Nobody else, Ally. I mean it.”

“So we’re exclusive,” she said slowly, “except that rugby comes first.”

“I have a commitment,” he repeated. “This is my focus. This is my life. Can’t we just go on like this for now? Aren’t we having a good time together?”

“Yeah. We’re having a good time.” Except for this particular moment. This particular moment sucked.

“Then can’t that be enough, right now?” he asked. “Can’t we just spend time together, enjoy each other? Does it have to be all or nothing? Does it all have to happen so fast?”

“When you put it like that,” she said, slowing as she neared the terminal, “I feel ridiculous. But I don’t think I
am
ridiculous. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I’ll phone you,” he said when she’d pulled into the curb in front of Air New Zealand Departures. He was out of the car, his duffel slung over his shoulder. “Tonight.”

“I’m working till nine,” she reminded him. “It’ll be ten by the time I walk home.”

“Right,” he said with a frown. “Wish you didn’t do that. Walk home, I mean, so late.”

She shrugged. Not much she could really say about that. The car was Kristen’s, not hers. So it was walking or taking the bus, and he knew it. Anyway, her danger in Wellington seemed a lot more likely to come from her wayward heart than anything else.

“I’ll just text you later, then, tell you we got in. And phone you tomorrow,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Not working late then, are you?”

“No. Tomorrow’s good.”

“I’ll phone you,” he repeated. “And Ally. This weekend . . . Thanks.”

She nodded, fought the tears that wanted to rise as he bent to kiss her through her open window. Not how she’d expected to be saying goodbye to him. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, not after what they’d shared. But you couldn’t make somebody love you, could you? Not if he didn’t. Not if he couldn’t.

“So,” Kristen said that evening from her spot on the couch. “Long weekend, huh?”

The two of them were drinking herbal tea together before Kristen went to bed. Ally knew she ought to eat something, but she didn’t have the energy to think about it.

She’d spent the day at work trying not to think about what Nate had said, what she had said. Had found herself blinking back tears, fighting an uncharacteristic sadness that kept threatening to overwhelm her. And now she was exhausted.

“Can I just say,” Kristen offered tentatively when Ally didn’t immediately respond, “that you don’t look as happy as I thought you’d be? Is it saying goodbye again? Or did it not go well?”

Ally hadn’t told her the details of what she’d planned, just that she’d wanted to take Nate away, give him a break. And Kristen had been excited for her. Had urged her to take the car despite the inconvenience of being without it for three days. Now, Ally’s eyes filled with tears again as she looked across at her friend. So loving. So concerned.

“It’s just that . . .” She shrugged helplessly, found that the tears, held back so long, refused to be denied any longer. “He doesn’t
love
me.”

She choked on the words and began crying in earnest, which had Kristen running for the box of tissues, then coming to sit next to her and wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Ally sobbed until she didn’t have anything left, even as she felt the ridiculousness of it. What had she lost? Nothing but the product of her imagination. Nothing but a stupid dream. And cried harder at the realization.

She tried to stop, made a couple attempts to talk, but lost the battle every time. Leaned into the comfort of Kristen’s supporting arm, and cried because it wasn’t Nate there, holding her. Because Nate didn’t love her like that, and she was pretty sure he never would.

“How come I can’t find a man who loves me the way you do?” she asked at last with a watery laugh, a few more gulps, and a vigorous blow of her nose.

“Is that it?” Kristen asked. “Did you break up?”

Ally shook her head, gave her eyes one final wipe, and reached for her cup of tea. Tried to pull herself back under control. “No. I don’t know. I don’t think so. It was all going so well, and then I told him, this morning, that I loved him. While we were . . . When I was . . . It just slipped out, that’s all. And you’d have thought I was telling him I had herpes,” she said with another choked laugh. “It wasn’t exactly welcome information.”

“Wow. You said it first?” Kristen asked. “You’re so brave. I’ve never done that.”

“Yeah. Well. I don’t advise it,” Ally sighed. “It didn’t work out too well.”

“So what did he say, exactly?” Kristen pressed. “Did he say he didn’t?”

Ally shook her head, reached for another tissue as the tears showed up again. “No. He just said he wasn’t sure. And that his commitment is to
rugby,”
she added with disgust. “To his team, and the frigging
All Blacks.
He made it totally clear that it wasn’t to me. But why can’t it be both? How can a man be in love with a team? It’s like it’s his wife! Drew fell in love with Hannah, didn’t he? So is it just me? That I’m not lovable?”

“Of course it’s not you,” Kristen said firmly. “You’re great. You’re
totally
lovable. But Drew had been captain for a long time when he met Hannah. He was comfortable in it, I think. Sure of himself. And Nate’s . . .”

“Scared,” Ally finished for her. “Consumed. I know he is. But I could
help
him. I already did, I think. I think I
do.”

“But probably,” she sighed, “it’s me. I’m not the type of woman men fall madly in love with, and I never have been. I’m not mysterious or exciting. I’m like some kind of Girl Scout, the happy pal the boys let into the tree house because she doesn’t count. Because she’s not a real girl.”

“I’m pretty sure Nate sees you as a girl,” Kristen protested with a smile. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Then
why?”
Ally demanded. “How many men have told you they loved you?”

“Lots,” Kristen admitted. “But that doesn’t mean they meant it. Maybe they thought they did, but it wasn’t really me. It was the idea of me. Or just that they wanted something, and thought they could get it that way. And for a long time, they were right. But Nate isn’t one of those guys. He’s a decent man, a grown-up man who won’t say something he doesn’t mean. He doesn’t want to lead you on.”

Ally nodded glumly. “That’s what he said. And here I am with my grand total of one man who’s ever said that to me, and didn’t really mean it anyway, not in the way I want. So what do I do now?”

“I think,” Kristen said slowly, “that you decide whether what he has to give is enough for you.”

“Yeah,” Ally sighed. “You’re right. Let’s face it, I’m only here another six months anyway. I got all carried away, that’s all. But I don’t know if it
is
enough. I’m not sure I can be happy with just a piece of him.”

“Another thing,” Kristen said. “If you do stay with him, you probably guard your heart a little more, don’t you think? See if you can do it for . . . for fun, maybe?”

“I finally figure out what I want out of life.” Ally slumped back against the cushions with a sigh. “What I want to do, and who I want to be with. I finally get the guts to say it, to wish for it. And turns out none of it’s realistic. None of it’s even possible. Wouldn’t you know it? Just my luck.”

We Try Harder

Nate rang off with a frown. No answer again. He hadn’t left a message this time. He was starting to feel like some kind of stalker. It was just that Ally’d always been around to talk to him before the game. He’d got used to it, that was all. Somehow, it had become his pregame ritual. And not being able to reach her . . . it was throwing him off. She’d said she didn’t have to work today, so it wasn’t that, unless the schedule had been changed.

Was she avoiding him? She hadn’t sounded the same when he’d phoned her a couple nights ago, even though he’d remembered to text her when he’d got to the Mount, and to Canberra as well. He wanted to make it right between them again, but how was he meant to do it? What more could he do?

“Something wrong?” Mako asked from the other bed, where he was lying reading a book. Nate had already sneaked a peek. Some literary thing.

“Nah. Want to go for a bit of a walk, something like that?”

“I need to do this,” Mako said apologetically. “You know I do.”

“You need to read some boring, depressing book before the game. I’ve never understood that. What kind of a footy player are you? Give us all a bad name.”

Mako smiled a bit at that. “Takes me out of myself. Can’t play good footy if you’re strung up.”

He marked his place carefully, set the heavy hardback down, and sat up a bit straighter. “Come on. What is it? Something about tonight? Or the ABs? Or something personal? Because, mate, something’s on your mind, and it’s been there all week, since we were at the Mount. Better get it off your chest now if you’re going to be right to run out there tonight.”

Nate sighed, stood up and grabbed the hand exerciser Ally had lent him, which he’d somehow never bothered to give back. It actually
had
been good for his ball-handling skills, given him just that bit more control. He began to pace the extent of the room, squeezing the thing rhythmically, one finger at a time.

“How d’you send a woman flowers?” he asked abruptly.

“You’re telling me you’ve never sent a woman flowers,” Mako said slowly. “Never
ever?”

“Nah. Never. And I think I need to. So how d’you do it?”

Mako looked at him for a long moment. Then picked up his mobile, clicked around a bit, and handed it over.

“You ring this number,” he instructed. “Tell them what you want, how much you want to spend. What colors they should use. What you want on the card, where to send them. Sending them to her work’s best, so everyone else can see them too.”

“I don’t care if everyone else sees them,” Nate said irritably. “Just want her to.”

Mako sighed. “Doesn’t matter what
you
care about, mate. That’s the point. When you send them to her work, she gets to show everyone else there that somebody sent her flowers, make them a bit jealous. Makes her feel special, eh.”

“It’s all blokes there,” Nate objected. “I don’t think anybody’s going to envy her getting flowers.”

“And that wouldn’t be a good thing? Show all those blokes she works with, who’re there when you’re here, that she’s got somebody sending her flowers? That she’s got
you
sending them? Letting them know that you’ll rip their fu—their frigging heads off if they even think about it?”

“Trying not to swear,” he said when Nate looked at him. “Self-improvement program, eh. Somebody I’m trying to impress myself, and I’ve got the flowers bit down. Going for the advanced level now.”

“Huh. You’re right,” Nate said with decision. “Definitely sending them to work.”

“You said colors, though,” he remembered. “What d’you mean, colors? Don’t you just do roses?”

“Ally doesn’t strike me as the red roses type,” Mako said. “What’s her favorite color? Start there.”

“Her favorite
color?
No idea. How’m I meant to know that?”

His friend heaved another sigh, looked at him pityingly. “Right. OK, then. Tip for you: that’d be a good thing to find out. What color does she wear most?”

“Uh . . . When I first met her, she was wearing a yellow shirt. I remember that.”

“Yellow’s good,” Mako said with decision. “She’s the yellow type. Sunny. Happy. Tell them that. Happy colors.”

“Not too happy just now, I don’t think,” Nate said glumly. “Not with me, anyway. Maybe not at all. I made her feel pretty bad.”

“Ah,” Mako said. “Then do the flowers. Definitely do the flowers. Tell them, best they’ve got, doesn’t matter what it costs. And think hard about the message you have them put on the card. Something that’ll mean something to her. Something personal.”

“Sure you need to get back?” Robbo asked Ally. “Because we could go have dinner. Get a hamburger, maybe. I’m hungry, after all that.”

“I want to watch the Hurricanes game,” she said.

He glanced across at her, pulled out of the Adrenaline Park carpark and onto the motorway. “We could do a pub. They’d have the footy on. Bound to.”

“No. I’d better get home.” She shifted restlessly in her seat. She’d looked at her mobile when they’d got back to the car, and seen four missed calls. And now it was too late. Nate would already be getting taped up, preparing to go out there. And if she didn’t hurry, she wasn’t even going to be in time to watch him. And then she’d
really
feel like she was cheating on him.

Which was ridiculous, she reminded herself. Nate didn’t love her, and he’d all but told her he didn’t need her either. That this was just for fun. She didn’t owe him a damn thing. Feeling this way was counterproductive, and wimpy, and
ridiculous.

“I got a speeding ticket here recently,” she told Robbo now. “So be careful.”

With Nate, she thought with a pang. Just last week, though it seemed like a lot longer ago than that. And when she’d been going through the treetop ropes courses of the adventure park today, all she’d been able to think about was how much she’d like to take him there. Tease him about it, make him go on the highest, toughest routes. And then see what he’d figure out later, how he’d manage to even the scales. She shivered a little, thinking about it. If only he weren’t so great, this would be a whole lot easier.

Well, she had a life to live too. So here she was, having a good time without him. Having a
great
time.

“I had a really good time,” she told Robbo now. “Thanks a lot for asking me to come along today. I enjoyed it.”

“We could do more things like this,” he suggested. “Next time we have a day off together. Or, I don’t know. Go out after work sometime, have a beer, next time we close.”

She cleared her throat. “Probably not a good idea. I meant what I said. Friends, that’s all. I’m actually dating somebody.”