LITMIR.BIZ

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about it. Realising I needed to tread carefully, I asked, ‘Have you spoken to your father about not wanting the job?’

      He laughed lightly, bitterly. ‘You clearly don’t know my family. It doesn’t matter what I tell him; the job is mine whether I like it or not. My grandfather’s will states that the company is my father’s for life, then it falls to my father’s children, and if I don’t join the business, then it reverts to my uncle’s son and his family inherit it.’

      ‘Surely that saves you.’

      He buried his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes with frustration. ‘It screws me even more. Look, I appreciate you trying, but you don’t understand the situation. It’s too complicated for me to explain, but let’s just say it involves years and years of family shit and I’m smack bang in the middle of it.’

      His fingers were trembling. He rubbed them on his jeans, up and down, up and down. He probably wasn’t even aware that he was doing it. Time to lift the mood.

      ‘Tell me about your job, the job you love.’

      He looked at me, a rare playful look in his eye. ‘What do you think it is that I do?’

      I studied him. ‘A model?’

      He swung his legs off the couch and sat up. It was so quick I thought he was going to dive on me; instead he looked at me in shock. ‘Are you kidding?’

      ‘You’re not a model?’

      ‘Why the hell would you say that?’

      ‘Because …’

      ‘Because what?’

      He was flabbergasted. It was the first time I’d seen him so animated.

      ‘Don’t tell me no one has ever said that to you before?’

      He shook his head. ‘No. No way.’

      ‘Oh. Even your girlfriend?’

      ‘No!’ He laughed quickly, and it was beautiful, a beautiful sound that I wanted to hear again. ‘You’re pulling my leg.’ Then he laid down again, feet up, the smile and the laugh gone.

      ‘I’m not. You happen to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen and so I thought you might be a model,’ I explained rationally. ‘I wasn’t making it up!’

      He looked at me then, his face softer, a little embarrassed, as he tried to figure out whether I was joking. But I wasn’t joking. If anything, I was mortified; I hadn’t meant it to come out like that. I had meant to say he was handsome, but it came out wrong because it came out right.

      ‘So what do you do?’ I changed the subject, picking imaginary fluff from my jeans to avoid looking at him.

      ‘You’ll enjoy this.’

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘A stripogram. One of those Chippendales. Because I’m so handsome and all.’

      I rolled my eyes and sat back.

      ‘Ah, I’m only messing. I’m a helicopter pilot for the Irish Coast Guard.’

      My mouth dropped.

      ‘See, I told you you’d enjoy it.’ He studied me.

      ‘You rescue people,’ I said.

      ‘We have so much in common, you and I.’

      There was no way Adam could go back to that job with him being in this frame of mind. I wouldn’t let him, I couldn’t let him, they wouldn’t let him.

      ‘You said the family company falls to your father’s children after his death. Do you have any siblings?’

      ‘I have an older sister. She’s next in line, but she moved to Boston. She had to leg it over there when it came out that her husband had stolen millions from his friends in a Ponzi scheme. He was supposed to invest it for them but spent it instead. Took quite a bit from me too. Took a whole lot from my dad.’

      ‘Your poor sister.’

      ‘Lavinia? She was probably the brains behind it. It’s not just that, there are other complications. The company should have passed to my uncle, who was the eldest brother, but he’s a selfish prick and my grandfather knew he’d run the company into the ground if it was left to him, so instead it went to Father. As a result, the family was split between those who sympathised with Uncle Liam and those who took my father’s side. So if I don’t take over and it falls to my cousin … It’s difficult to explain to someone who isn’t part of the family. You can’t know how hard it is to turn your back on something, even though you despise it, because there’s loyalty involved.’

      ‘I left my husband last week,’ I blurted out. Just like that, I said it. My heart was hammering in my chest; it must have been the first time I’d said it to anyone, out loud. For so long I’d wanted to leave him, but couldn’t because I wanted to be the loyal wife who followed through on my vows. I knew exactly the loyalty Adam was talking about.

      He looked at me, surprised. For a moment he studied me, as if questioning whether my claim was authentic. ‘What did he do?’

      ‘He’s an electrician, why?’

      ‘No. Why did you leave him? What did he do wrong?’

      I swallowed, examined my nails. ‘He didn’t do anything wrong really. He … I wasn’t happy.’

      He blew air out of his nose, unamused. ‘So you find your own happiness at his expense.’

      I knew he was thinking about his girlfriend.

      ‘It’s not a philosophy I like to preach.’

      ‘But you practise it.’

      ‘You can’t know how hard it is to leave someone,’ I echoed his earlier words.

      ‘Touché.’

      ‘You have to weigh up the risks,’ I said. ‘Together we would have both been miserable for the rest of our lives. He’ll get over me. He’ll get over me a lot quicker than he thinks.’

      ‘And what if he doesn’t?’

      I didn’t know how to respond. The thought had never occurred to me. I was sure Barry would get over me. He would have to.

      Adam disappeared after that. He stayed in the room but vanished into his mind, no doubt pondering the future for him and his girlfriend. Getting over her wasn’t an option; he wanted her back. And if his girlfriend felt for Adam the way I felt for Barry, they hadn’t a hope in hell.

      ‘So what do you do?’ he asked, as if suddenly realising he knew nothing about the woman who was intent on saving his life.

      ‘What do you think I do?’ I played his game.

      He didn’t think for very long. ‘Work in a charity shop?’

      I had to laugh. ‘That’s random.’ I looked down at my clothes, wondering if he thought my jeans, denim shirt and Converse trainers had come from a charity shop. They may have been casual but they were all brand new, and double denim was back in.

      He smiled. ‘I don’t mean your clothes. It’s more … you seem the caring type. Maybe a vet, or something to do with rescued animals?’ He shrugged. ‘Am I close?’

      I cleared my throat. ‘I’m in recruitment.’

      His smile faded. His disappointment was palpable, his concern even more so. And he didn’t try to cover it up.

      In a few hours I would have twelve days left. And so far I had achieved nothing.

       7

      

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