The Man Every Woman Wants (15 page)

L
AURA'S
period didn't arrive on Wednesday morning, or Wednesday afternoon, or Wednesday evening. When Thursday morning came and still no sign of a period, her stress levels soared. Suddenly, she was thankful that she and Ryan were not in contact for a week. No phone calls, or text messages; no emails. Nothing until the following Tuesday when he'd be dropping round after work around seven.

The last time she'd seen him he'd said they both needed time to think, which was certainly true. Because by then she was more in love with him than ever, so much so that she was reconsidering accepting his offer of being his girlfriend for real and to hell with the consequences. She'd almost said as much when he had gone to leave. She might have done so if he hadn't opened his mouth to say he'd changed his mind about keeping her on as his lawyer.

‘Don't worry about finding a replacement immediately,' he'd added. ‘That can wait a while.'

It was a well-timed reminder that nothing had changed for Ryan. Any secret fantasies she'd been harbouring about his feelings for her having deepened went out of the window. So, yes, she definitely needed time to think about what she was going to do when she saw him the following Tuesday.

By Friday, Laura's period still hadn't made an appearance. It was a huge relief that she wasn't in contact with Ryan, because he might have asked her about it. This way, she didn't
have to explain things. For Lord knew how he would react. He might think she'd lied to him and had somehow been trying to trap him with a pregnancy. As if she would!

But she could not deny that strangely, as soon as the thought entered Laura's head that she might have somehow conceived Ryan's child, by some perverse twist of fate, the idea of having his baby brought a zing to her heart. But the zing did not last, fading to a deep dismay when she realised it would definitely mean the end of any relationship with Ryan. Because he didn't do love or marriage or, God forbid, fatherhood.

That night she actually prayed for her period to arrive. But her prayers were not answered, not for another few days. Perversely, she cried when it did arrive the following Tuesday morning—cried and cried and cried. She was so distressed that she rang work and said she would not be in. Several times that day, she picked up her phone to call Ryan and tell him she didn't want him to come over that night. But each time she put the phone back down again. Love made one weak, she accepted despairingly. And there she'd been, thinking she was over being a victim to love.

Laura thought about what she would say to Ryan all afternoon, determined not to let him come inside. She even began to hope that he might not come at all. But he showed up, looking impossibly handsome in a suit and tie. Her resolve faltered when he smiled at her— Faltered even more when he said, ‘God, but I've missed you,' then pulled her into his arms.

She didn't object to his kiss, telling herself that this was her goodbye kiss. But, oh, inside she was already dissolving.

‘I'm sorry, Ryan,' she said when he finally let her come up for air. ‘But you have to stop. I…I've got my period.'

‘Still?'

She looked into his eyes and saw surprise, not scepticism.

‘No. It… It didn't arrive till today,' she admitted.

Now he looked shocked. ‘But you said…'

‘I know what I said,' she swept on angrily, knowing exactly what he'd thought for a split second. ‘I don't know what hap
pened. I was so worried about being late that I actually went to a doctor yesterday and he told me that sometimes ovulation is delayed from stress. He asked me what had been going on in my life, and when I told him about Gran's accident he said that might have done it. Anyway, he said it was too early to test for a pregnancy but it wasn't impossible that I might have conceived. You can imagine how I felt at that moment!'

‘No,' he said, looking oddly at her. ‘How did you feel?'

It angered her even further, that coolly speculative look in his eyes.

All the distress of the last week welled up inside her, goading her tongue to strike out at him.

‘How do you think I felt?' she snapped. ‘You don't think that I wanted your baby, do you? Good God, I'd have to be insane to want that! It's bad enough that I let myself be seduced into a disgustingly futile affair with a man who offered me nothing of himself but his body—if it turned out I
was
pregnant, I think I would have jumped off the harbour bridge!'

‘You don't mean that,' he ground out.

‘I do indeed,' she returned fiercely, all reason abandoned with her loss of temper. ‘What decent woman would want your baby? You'd make a terrible father. Why, you are the most selfish, self-centred, screwed-up man I've ever known! Even Mario was a better man than you. And that's saying something!'

He just stared at her for a long moment, his eyes haunted. And then he nodded. Slowly. Sadly. ‘I couldn't have said it better myself,' he agreed.

The horror of her words finally sank in to Laura, bringing with it an almost unbearable shame. She had no right to hurt him like she just had. No right at all. As she'd said to Alison, she'd been a willing partner in all this. Besides, not wanting marriage and a family didn't make Ryan a bad person. He had every right to live his life as he saw fit, and it wasn't as though he hadn't been honest with her.

But it was too late now. The words had been said and she
couldn't take them back. Though, heaven help her, she wanted to, wanted to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to forgive her. Instead, she took a shaky step backwards, her fingers curling over into fists by her side lest her arms moved without her brain telling them to.

‘I do apologise if I have behaved badly,' he said bleakly. ‘I honestly never meant to hurt you. I think you are an incredible woman and I'm sure that some day your Mr Right will come along and give you what you want. Please tell your family I'm sorry things didn't work out between us but I wish them well also, especially your gran.'

His mentioning her gran tipped Laura's emotions into dangerously weak territory.

‘Ryan, I…'

‘No, Laura,' he cut in, whipping up one hand as a quite savage stop sign. ‘You've said quite enough. Let's leave it at that. Bye, Rambo,' he added when the cat suddenly appeared at his feet. ‘Look after your mistress for me.' And, whirling, he was gone.

Laura stood in the open doorway, staring at the empty path for what felt like an eternity. This time her tears were silent, spilling over and running down her cheeks, dripping from the end of her nose onto her top. No doubt it was being ruined, yet she didn't care. Laura suspected she would not care about anything for a long time to come.

The sound of her phone ringing and ringing eventually forced her to turn and walk down the hallway towards the kitchen, a disconsolate Rambo trailing behind her. Probably a telemarketer, Laura thought wearily; they always rang when people got home from work. Sighing, she snatched a handful of tissues from the box which she kept on the counter, wiped her nose then reached for the phone.

‘Yes?' she said in a decidedly dead voice.

‘Oh—Laura,' Aunt Cynthia choked out down the line. ‘Oh my dear…'

Laura's already breaking heart shattered into tiny pieces,
for she knew immediately what had happened. And there she'd been, naïvely thinking nothing could possibly make her feel worse.

But she hadn't bargained on this.

Life wasn't just cruel she realised as her insides crumbled in despair—sometimes it was downright sadistic.

‘What happened?' she asked in hollow tones. ‘A heart attack, I suppose?'

‘Yes, we think so. Jane had gone to lie down after lunch, as she always did. I went to wake her around five and she was just lying there, unconscious. We called the ambulance but there was nothing they could do. She was already dead by the time they arrived. She didn't suffer, Laura. She looked very…peaceful. Happy, even.'

‘That's good,' was all Laura could manage to say, tears threatening once more.

‘You know, I thought I wouldn't be this upset when she went,' her aunt said with a sob. ‘But I can't seem to stop crying.'

Laura knew how she felt.

‘I'll have to ring you back, Aunt Cynthia. I can't talk any more just now.'

Hanging up, she sank down on the floor, put her head in her hands and began to sob.

R
YAN
could not remember the drive back to the city; his mind was in total disarray. That he made it back to his apartment building without incident was a minor miracle. It was a struggle to concentrate on the road when his head was full of such distressing thoughts, the main one being that he would never see Laura again. Never hold her in his arms again. Never make love to her again. Even worse was the physical distress which accompanied these thoughts. His stomach was churning, and his chest muscles were so tight around his heart he imagined he might go into cardiac arrest at any moment.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Ryan headed for his drinks cabinet and poured himself the largest straight whisky he'd ever had in his life, downing it quickly before pouring himself another. Before long, the alcohol did what his normally strong will could not, calmed his body and shut down his brain.

The following morning he rang his PA and told her he wouldn't be in for the rest of the week. Then he turned off his phone so that no one could bother him. For the next three days, he watched movie after movie, eating delivered pizzas and drinking himself into oblivion until he fell asleep in the lounge. Same thing on Saturday. By Sunday morning, he couldn't stand his own company any longer, or the way he looked when he happened to catch a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.

A shower and a shave went some way to brightening him up, plus a litre of orange juice and a couple of aspirin for his hangover. Afterwards he went for a long walk around the nearby botanic gardens, during which time he thought and thought, mostly about the past, the kind of thinking Ryan was not well acquainted with. He put such activities in the same category as psychological analysis or, even worse, group-therapy sessions. He'd survived so far without the help of anti-depressants and in-depth counselling, well aware that people in this modern day and age would think him something of a dinosaur regarding his attitude to mental health.

Ryan had no doubt that if he went to a doctor and confided the truth about his childhood he or she would be amazed that he'd lasted this long without cracking up entirely. His grandmother had actually taken him to a psychiatrist not long after his mother's death—or perhaps it was a psychologist; he couldn't be sure now, it was so long ago. But Ryan hadn't liked the man. He certainly hadn't wanted to tell him all the shameful details of his mother's life—and death—and hadn't wanted to keep reliving any of it.

He'd decided then and there to survive his own way. Of course, if it hadn't been for his grandmother's support and love, he would not have survived at all, let alone become a success. Ryan could also see that shortly after her death he'd been in real danger of losing it for a while. Only by hardening his heart even further against emotional attachment of any kind had he managed to continue living.

And it had worked for him up until now…

As Ryan walked endlessly around the garden pathways, he forced himself to face the astonishing fact that Laura had somehow stolen past his defences and melted his cold heart. His pretending that it was just lust he felt for her was just so much rubbish: it was love, pure and simple. Well, perhaps not so pure or so simple, but love all the same. Nothing else could explain the devastation he'd felt when she'd verbally savaged him the way she had the previous Tuesday.

But his falling in love with Laura was the ultimate irony, because she didn't return his love. Anyone could see that. Her disgust at the very thought of having his baby had been obvious. Though startled, deep down he'd actually not been displeased by the possibility—another light-bulb moment, if he'd been smart enough to recognise it at the time.

But he recognised it now.

By the time Ryan made it back to his apartment, he'd made a few decisions and got back some of his fighting spirit. Okay, so he probably didn't have a great chance of ever convincing Laura that he was a changed man. But he wasn't about to live the rest of his wretched life without giving it his best shot.

Winning a woman like Laura was not unlike winning a soccer match against a top team, he conceded. You couldn't just barge back into her life, running around like a chook with its head cut off. You had to have a decent strategy. A plan.

By Monday morning Ryan still wasn't sure what to do. He could hardly just ring Laura up and tell her that he loved her; that wasn't going to work. He needed more time to think. At the same time he needed to get back to work. Unfortunately, three days out of the office meant he had a lot of calls to return, one of them to Laura's boss.

‘Ryan Armstrong,' he said when Greg Harvey came on the line.

‘Ryan, so glad you called. I gather you'll be needing a new lawyer now that Laura has left us.'

‘What? Laura's
left
?'

‘You didn't know? I thought she would have told you. She resigned late last week. For personal reasons.'

‘What kind of personal reasons?'

‘I guess there's no reason you shouldn't know. Her grandmother died. Apparently they were very close.'

Ryan suppressed a groan of dismay.

‘We offered her time off,' the man rattled on, ‘But she said she needed a complete break. We're sorry to lose a lawyer of her ability but life does go on, doesn't it? Look, there's a young
chap who's just joined us. Brilliant legal brain. What say I send him down to meet you, see what you think? His name's Cory Sanderland.'

‘Sounds perfect, Greg. But not right now. I have to go out shortly and I won't be in for the rest of the day. Leave it with me and I'll give Cory a call later this week.'

‘Fine.'

‘Have to go, Greg,' he said, and hung up.

But he didn't leave the office straight away. First he tried ringing Laura's mobile but it was turned off. After pacing around for a few minutes, he charged out to his PA's desk.

‘Judith,' he said. ‘I want you to contact Laura Ferrugia's PA and find out the phone number of Laura's best friend. Her name is Alison—that's all I know, I'm afraid. I know it's an odd request but just do this for me, will you?'

Judith, who was a sensible woman who liked her job, didn't argue. ‘Fine.'

Five minutes later, she handed Ryan a piece of paper with a phone number written down on it.

‘She didn't really want to give it to me,' she said. ‘You didn't tell me that Laura no longer worked there. I had to say it was an emergency.'

‘It
is
an emergency,' he told her.

‘Care to tell me more?'

‘Not right now.'

‘Just as well I'm not a curious type,' she said, and went back to her desk.

He called the number straight away, his heartbeat quickening as he waited for someone to answer. At last, a woman's voice said, ‘Hello?'

‘Is that Alison?'

‘Yes? Who is this?'

‘Ryan Armstrong.'

He heard her sharp intake of breath. ‘What on earth are you doing ringing
me
?'

‘I just heard about Laura's grandmother,' he said swiftly.
‘I've been trying to ring Laura but her phone's switched off. I was hoping you could tell me if her grandmother's been buried yet. I'd like to go to the funeral.'

‘Laura wouldn't want you there.'

‘I'd still like to go.'

‘Oh, for pity's sake, give the girl a break, will you? And just stay away from her. She doesn't want any more to do with you.'

Ryan decided then and there that if he wanted to win Laura he also had to win her best friend.

‘She doesn't want anything to do with the man I used to be,' Ryan said. ‘She might want to have something to do with the man I am today.'

‘And what's that, pray tell?'

No doubting the cynicism in her voice.

‘A man in love.'

Now he heard an even sharper intake of breath.

‘I love Laura, Alison. And I want to marry her. Now tell me when the funeral is.'

‘Oh Lord, it's today. In a couple of hours.'

‘And you're not there with her?' he threw at her somewhat accusingly.

‘I would have been but my little boy isn't well. He's asthmatic, you see, and has a bad bout of hay fever today. I daren't leave him.'

‘I see. Is it being held at the chapel near the Hunter Valley gardens?' he asked.

‘Yes. How did you know?'

‘Never mind. I have to go, Alison, if I'm going to make it in time.'

‘Yes, yes. Just go. And Ryan?'

‘Yes?'

‘For what it's worth, I think Laura loves you too.'

A wild joy flooded Ryan's heart. ‘What makes you think so?'

‘I've thought so from the day after she went to bed with
you. Laura only has sex with men she loves. She's that kind of girl.'

Ryan smiled. That was one of the reasons he loved her.

‘Have to go, Alison.'

‘Hurry, Ryan. Laura needs you.'

Yes, he agreed silently as he grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the door. Just as much as he needed her. They needed each other, two lonely, seriously screwed-up people whom life had hurt but whom life hadn't totally beaten yet.

 

Laura sat in the front pew of the chapel, trying not to look at her gran's coffin, or the masses of yellow roses which covered the lid. Every time she looked at the yellow roses she wanted to cry. They had been Jane's favourite flower. When Laura had left school and started living in her parents' house at North Manly, her gran had bought her several yellow rose-bushes to plant in her garden to remind Laura of her.

As if I would ever need reminding
, Laura thought as tears threatened once more.

Panic joined her tears, for it was her turn to speak. Uncle Bill and Aunt Cynthia had asked her to give the main eulogy, claiming they were both poor public speakers whereas she was used to it. She'd shied away from doing it at first before accepting that it was the last way she would be able to express her gratitude to Jane for all she'd done for her. She'd written down what she wanted to say, lest she forget it. Now she stared down at the piece of paper on which she'd written the inadequate words, seeing that it was nothing more than a twisted crunched-up mess in her lap. It was impossible to straighten it out.

When Aunt Cynthia nudged her in the ribs, she rose and stumbled up to the podium. Somehow she managed to relate the story of Jane's early life from memory, dry facts really, about where her grandmother was born and where she went to school. She spoke of Jane's love of country life and of gar
dening. She then mentioned her marriage, complimenting her on being a loving and loyal wife, and a devoted mother.

But the moment she came to where she wanted to say how wonderful a grandmother she had been, her mouth went bone dry and a huge lump filled her throat. She looked down and tried to straighten out the crumpled sheet of paper but it was all a blur. Dying of embarrassment, she was staring down the only aisle of the small church when suddenly, through the blur, striding towards her with forceful steps, was the last man on earth she expected to see at that moment. My God, she thought wildly as her heart whirled and her heart lurched. What on earth was Ryan doing here?

He didn't hesitate, crossing the strip of carpet that still separated them, stepping up to stand close to her and slide a strongly supportive arm around her waist.

‘Sorry I'm late,' he said gently as he pulled her against him. ‘Got a bit lost without Jane's splendid directions.'

Laura blinked up at him, having been rendered even more speechless than before.

‘I take it you're having a spot of trouble,' he whispered, having glanced down at the still-crinkled paper. ‘As you can see, folks,' he continued in full voice, ‘Laura is slightly overcome with the situation. Which is understandable, given how much she loved her gran. So I'm going to finish speaking for her. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Ryan Armstrong and I'm Laura's boyfriend.'

Ryan hoped like hell that she hadn't said anything to her family about their having broken up. He suspected that she might not have done so just yet. She was proud, his Laura. He felt reassured by Cynthia's eyes, which weren't looking at him with shock, or even surprise—reassured also by Laura's acquiescence to his arm around her.

‘Now, I didn't know Jane all that well,' he went on. ‘We only met once, over one short weekend. But that was long enough for me to see she was one of those grandmothers that
make the world a better place to live in, especially for their grandchildren. I know something about grandmothers like that. I had one myself. I know how Laura feels, and on her behalf I'd like to thank Jane, as well as all the other amazing grandmothers in this world, for their sweetly giving natures, their unconditional love and their wonderful wisdom.

‘I'm sure if Jane could speak to us today, she would tell us all gathered here in her memory not to be sad. She would want us to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. I know she was extremely proud of Laura, and all her family. Bill, Cynthia, Shane and Lisa: she loved you all dearly.

‘She was also proud of where she lived. She recently showed me the Hunter Valley Gardens, along with this very beautiful little church, saying this was where she wanted her funeral service to be held. Both Laura and I hoped that such an event would be many years in the future. But it was not to be. Let me just say that it was a privilege to know Jane. Goodbye, darling Gran. Rest in Peace.'

Ryan's arm tightened around Laura as he led her back to her seat, sobbing now, taking a guess that she'd been sitting next to her aunt and uncle in the front pew.

‘Well said, Ryan,' Bill complimented, his own eyes shimmering with tears. Cynthia was incapable of saying anything, a handkerchief held up to her face as she wept quietly into it.

Ryan found himself quite choked up too, feeling genuine grief—and some more remorse too, for not flying back to Australia and speaking at his own grandmother's funeral. If only one could go back in time…