When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (16 page)

‘I’m going to see if she’s okay.’

‘Whoa! That is a really bad idea,’ Kisani said, and she stood and lifted her arms as if she could block my path. ‘What’s gotten into you?’

‘Leo,’ Brad said quietly. ‘Take a deep breath and think about this. There’s been a misunderstanding – it’s just going to be awkward if you go over there. Why would Laith even care if she came and said hello to you?’

I brushed Brad’s hand off my elbow and walked across the room. I was all the way across the floor when I noticed that the presenter was walking towards the middle of the stage to give a speech, and the rest of the guests were returning to their seats. I walked faster, and made it to the
Torrington Media
executive table just as the announcer reached the podium.

Molly turned and I knew in an instant that Kisani was right; her eyes were puffy and still red. It was the pain in her gaze that burnt me – she was hurt and embarrassed and bewildered.

I felt an internal snap as surely as if I’d broken a bone.

I forgot that I was one of the only people standing in a room of four hundred of my peers. I forgot that I was standing beside a table that was right next to the stage, and I no longer saw the announcer staring down at me in bewilderment.

‘Hi,’ I said, and I was impressed with my own ability to sound polite when pure fury was pulsing through my veins. ‘Laith, Danielle – it’s so wonderful to see you both again. Entrées were fabulous this year, weren’t they?’

But Laith was not going to pretend to be polite. He narrowed his eyes at me and I watched the tide of furious red creep along the skin of his cheeks. In the ten years since I’d known him he had aged – his hair and body seemed the same, but the skin on his face had sagged, pulling his mouth down and creasing his forehead into a permanent frown.

‘What do you want, Stephens?’

No one moved – the entire auditorium seemed to have fallen silent. I took a moment to ponder – was I really so out of line, approaching them? The timing was bad, yes. But I’d done nothing wrong – so far.

I was making a total idiot of myself and maybe I’d regret it later, but I knew I would have regretted it more if I hadn’t checked in on her. The only thing that mattered to me that moment was that Laith had made her cry
.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to speak to him with my fists and make him say sorry to her. I wanted to teach him to respect her for the person that she was, not the person he was trying to force her to be. I wanted to make him pay for all of the ways that he’d hurt Molly – and Declan – and the way that he’d always treated me.

Laith and I locked gazes. I could see the utter loathing in his eyes, and I hoped that he could see it mirrored mine. I slammed my hands into my pockets to hide my clenched fists and turned my gaze to Molly.

‘I just wanted to come and see how your night was going, Molly. And to make sure you’re okay.’

‘No,’ she said, calmly. ‘I am
not
okay. I would like you to take me home now, please, Leo.’

She rose slowly and slightly unsteadily – and held her hand out towards me.

I stared at her outstretched fingers and then I took her hand. We entwined our fingers in a way that left absolutely no doubt as to the relationship between us, and I smiled at her tenderly. ‘It would be an honour, Molly.’

She slipped out from her chair and lifted her purse from the table. Danielle was gaping at us and I looked pointedly to Laith, just in case he had somehow missed the body language between his daughter and me. ‘Have a good night,’ I said, nodding at him calmly, and then with a smile at the rest of the table, I turned away from them to find that the entire auditorium was indeed staring at me – at
us
. I raised my chin and quickly lead Molly towards the exit.

W
e didn’t say
a word at first. My phone, nestled in my pocket, was vibrating continuously – I checked it briefly, and saw several missed calls from Brad, Penny and even Kisani – but they could all wait. As soon as we were outside, Molly started to cry.

‘What the hell happened?’ I whispered, and I turned to cup her face in my hands. I stared down at her in the semi-darkness and the sight of the tears rolling down her cheeks was enough to make me want to storm back into the auditorium. ‘All you did was say hello to me.’

‘He told me I wasn’t allowed to talk to you, can you believe that? Not allowed,’ she whispered. There was a stubborn set to her jaw but misery in her eyes. ‘I told him he had no right to tell me who I could or couldn’t talk to. He said some things about you…’ She broke off, and her gaze fell.

I tilted her face towards mine. ‘What did he say about me?’

‘I don’t even want to repeat it, Leo. He used words that would hurt you,’ Molly whispered, and her gaze dropped. ‘And I lost my shit at him.’

‘That’s not what I heard,’ I said gently.

Molly laughed weakly, then her face fell and the tears started to flow all over again. ‘And then
he
lost his shit at
me
, and he’s much better at it than I am.’

‘God, Molly! I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m not. It was overdue.’

‘Did I do the right thing coming to your table? I kind of lost my mind.’ My phone vibrated again, and I sighed and released her to slip it from my pocket. A text from Brad –
What the hell is going on?

I suddenly realised the very obvious option I’d overlooked.

‘
Fuck
,’ I groaned. ‘Molly, I should have just sent you a text.’

‘Yeah,’ she laughed, and then I started to laugh too. ‘That would have been slightly less dramatic.’

‘I heard he made you cry and my brain kind of melted.’

‘Who told you that? I did
not
cry!’

‘You obviously did,’ I said wryly, and I ran my thumb over her cheek.

‘Well… still… I
am
a professional, you know – except for the whole arguing with Dad in front of the staff thing. Any crying I may or may not have done, I did in the bathroom. God, this industry is full of bloody gossips!’

‘Isn’t that kind of the point?’

‘I’ll bet it was someone from TM,’ she muttered, and suddenly wrapped her arms around my neck, moving with such force that I stumbled backwards a little. ‘I don’t care what he thinks, or what anyone thinks. I think I’m falling in love with you, Leo Stephens, and I don’t care who knows it. Do
you
?’

I replayed the words over and over again before I spoke.

Love.
That’s what this was.
How had I not realised it yet? I’d been too busy enjoying it to step apart from it and identify it, but now that she’d said it, it made perfect
sense.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you too,’ I whispered, and Molly gasped.

‘You did
not
just say that!’

‘You said it first,’ I protested, confused by her shock.

‘God, Leo! I’ve been known to say it to the clerk at the bakery for giving me a cupcake! I mean it, of course, but I just didn’t expect you to say it back. I figured I’d be hanging on for years and years, hoping you were thinking it, never really being sure…’

I laughed and shook my head at her. ‘Well, this whole night hasn’t been a bust, then.’

We kissed again, slowly, savouring the moment.
Love
. I kept saying the word over and over again in my head, marvelling at it.
This is love. I love her. I am in love with her.
I wasn’t sure where it would lead us but she mattered to me, and I mattered to her. It was beautifully simple, and simply profound.

After a while, I broke the kiss to gaze into her eyes.

‘Are you going to have a job to go back to on Monday, Molly?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, and then she shuddered. ‘God, Leo! I don’t even know if Dad will forgive me. We embarrassed him and Dad is
all
about saving face.’

‘It will be okay,’ I promised her. ‘We’ll figure it out together, whatever happens.’

I
am
fragile after my breakdown at the terrace. I am clingy with Leo too, and although he doesn’t seem to mind, I’m embarrassed about how reluctant I am to let him out of my sight. We stay at the terrace together for hours, and even when I see him tiring, I ignore his hints about heading back to the facility. Instead, I order a meal to be delivered from Totally Thai and we sit at the new dining table to eat. Leo asks me questions about our life together. They’re innocent things – carefully selected discussion items, I suspect, because he stays entirely away from the issue of his travel or the periods of our marriage we have spent apart.

We talk about the easy moments and I try to frame my answers about things that should feel familiar. I remind him about how he
always
insists on taking the left side of the bed, and how he was adamant when we met that it was just as easy for me to put the toilet seat down before I used it as it was for him to put it down after he’d finished with it. He laughs when I tell him how I’d go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, forget that he’d been there and fall into the bowl. I thump him for laughing.

He asks me about our best moments together, and I tell him about the quiet ones. Those small moments really are my favourite memories of us. It was Leo doing the dishes in the early days so I wouldn’t complain about the dishwasher, and me being so overwhelmed with love for him that I’d come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist just to hold him.

It was Leo recording
The Bachelor
for me when I was stuck at the office one night, even though he hated the show and teased me mercilessly for watching it.

It was the mornings when we woke beside one another and the first communication that we had of the day was just a contented smile.

It was Leo kissing me in public, which he always
liked to do – he was just so proud to be with me, and that made me feel proud too.

It was the way he’d stand in front of me and smile, and run his hands down over the back of my hair and then cup my shoulders to gently hold me in place, as if he wanted to show his affection for me from head to toe.

That was who we were before we broke. And just like the previous day at Circular Quay, reliving those moments with him is both unbearably painful and a precious gift. I want to keep talking about these light-hearted things all night, and Leo is treating me so tenderly after my tears earlier in the day that I have a feeling he’d let me. I battle an irrational urge to beg him to stay with me. I don’t ask, but I want to.

Eventually I broach the subject of his return to the clinic and he calls for the van.

‘Please let me go with you,’ I say for the fourth or fifth time when the van arrives at the gate, and Leo smiles sadly at me and shakes his head.

‘Molly, you are absolutely exhausted. You are going to take yourself up to bed and get a proper night’s sleep. Promise me.’ I am still holding his hand tightly within mine and he brings my wrist to his lips and kisses it gently. ‘Good night, Molly.’

He releases my fingers but I hold onto his. I can’t bring myself to let go. I bend, and although I know it’s completely wrong, I gently kiss him. Leo responds with surprising enthusiasm for the kiss, and before I know it, I end up sitting on his lap and we are making out in a laneway like teenagers while the driver waits patiently in the car beside us.

Eventually, I pull away from him. As soon as I do, Leo wraps his arms around me and pulls me close again. ‘God,’ he whispers, and his breath is hot on my neck. ‘You’re amazing, Molly
Stephens
!’

He doesn’t just say those words – they burst from his lips, as if he couldn’t
not
say them. When was the last time he said that? When was the last time he even complimented me? I can’t remember, and I doubt he’s thought warm things about me at all over our last miserable months. It’s the reminder I need that the night must end, so I turn and kiss him again – briefly but passionately, and then I say goodbye.

F
or all of
her bravado at the function on Saturday night, Molly woke on Sunday morning in a miserable funk. I’d never seen her like that before. She was quiet and pale, and lethargic as if she was physically sick. I had to work hard to convince her to get out of bed, and when she dressed, she wore track pants and a hoody but no make-up. I made an endless series of pathetic jokes to try to cheer her up, but was rewarded with little more than a weak smile each time.

We walked to a café near my house – hand in hand in public for the very first time. I would have been celebrating any other day, but with Molly’s dampened mood I didn’t even draw attention to it. At the café she ordered only a coffee, which she sipped without enthusiasm. We shared the paper, and I silently scanned for any coverage of the scene I’d inadvertently caused. I wasn’t surprised that I wasn’t actually named, but Molly and Laith’s public bust-up was referenced in all of the coverage of the awards night.

T
he annual Journalism Australia
awards ceremony was held last night in a glittering function on Darling Harbour. Rumours are growing of a family rift between Torrington CEO Laith Torrington and his VP daughter, Molly – with a very public family argument played out during the dinner. TM publicity staff declined to comment when contacted today.

‘
L
eo
,’ Molly said suddenly, and I looked up from the paper. She was white-faced. ‘I have to leave TM.’

‘Not if you’re not ready,’ I said cautiously. ‘This will blow over.’

She shook her head, knocking the tears onto her cheeks. I quickly glanced around to check for photographers. It was unlikely, but the last thing she needed was an image of her sitting sobbing in a café to make the news.

‘No, I do. Dad is never going to tolerate…’ she waved a hand between us.

‘Don’t do anything rash, okay?’ I suggested. ‘Don’t jump yet. Wait and see what happens.’

I did want her to leave – but for her own sake. But I didn’t want her to blame me for further damaging her relationship with her father: Molly had to be sure.

That day, it was like Molly’s personality had been forced into mute mode. Her smiles were half-strength at best. I thought it’d pass quickly, but the following day, as we sat down to breakfast, she said, ‘I’m going to resign today.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ she whispered, and then she gave me a wobbly smile. ‘This is what I want, what I’ve always wanted – it’s not even about you, I just needed the push. Please don’t try to talk me out of it, I’m not being impulsive.’

I helped her draft the email.

Laith didn’t respond that day, but the next morning, she woke me with her phone in her hand.

You have deeply disappointed and embarrassed your mother and me. You are welcome to call me when you have come to your senses and are ready to apologise.

I could feel her pain, but I didn’t actually get it. I wanted to, but I just didn’t understand how deeply his disapproval could hurt her. It was as if she’d lost her reason for living, and that seemed ridiculous to me. She still had so much – she still had
everything
– except for a job that she’d never really enjoyed anyway.

If she’d been sad before that email, she was positively miserable after it. I had another trip looming and I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to do if she was still this depressed when the time came to fly out. I started to worry – I dragged her out of the apartment for walks and sunshine, brought her meals and tried to persuade her to eat them – and generally did my best to be both patient and supportive. When I tried to talk to her, Molly only assured me she was glad to have had an impetus to force her to make a change. The relief of those words did not at all match the misery of her behaviour.

I wanted to be supportive and encouraging, and I think I was – at first. But by day I was working on a plan to dig deeper into the growing civil unrest in Syria and the increasingly difficult conditions people there were facing, and by night my extremely wealthy girlfriend seemed to be in deep mourning over the loss of a job she
hated
! It was maddening.

When I could no longer postpone my trip overseas, I decided it was time to take drastic action. I rang her as I left the
News Monthly
office one afternoon. ‘How about you get dressed?’ I suggested quietly. ‘I’m taking you out.’

‘What for?’ she asked, in that almost monotonous tone that did awful things to my soul.

‘I think it’s time to show you my gym,’ I murmured.

‘I’m really not in the mood for a workout, Leo.’

‘I’m not taking you there for a workout,’ I said, and I sighed. ‘I’m taking you there for perspective.’

‘Oh God,’ she groaned, ‘I don’t like the sound of that either! Can’t I just wallow in my self-pity for a bit longer?’

‘Wear running shoes and jeans, I’ll pick you up in half an hour.’