He gusted out a sigh. ‘I think I’m getting an ulcer.’
‘I don’t think that’s the problem.’
‘What do you think the problem is?’
‘I think you’re missing Sarah.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
What was even more ridiculous was that he had never intended to mention Sarah to Maree. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. Because sometimes saying her name made him feel better—who knew how that worked? And eventually he’d dropped her name enough that Maree had made her own deductions.
‘Not admitting something doesn’t make it any less true.’
After a long pause, he shrugged. ‘Fine. I miss her.’ More than he would have thought possible.
He didn’t understand how she had infiltrated his life so completely. Sometimes he’d turn, convinced he’d glimpsed her—the world suddenly seemed full of red-haired women. Other times he’d catch a waft of her scent. Too many times his hand had hovered over his phone. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to share things with her—to tell her that he’d summoned up all the courage in the world and messaged his half-brothers. To tell her that the new clothing range was a hit. To tell her a joke just so he could hear her laugh. It had half killed him not to grill Jodie the two times he’d taken her out.
‘But it will pass.’
Maree raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Any sign of that happening?’
‘Not yet, but it will.’
‘And that’s a good thing because...?’
Now he rose and paced the room. One fist thumped the palm of his other hand. ‘Because it wouldn’t work out.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too risky. And it wouldn’t be fair to Sarah or Jodie. I am not equipped for relationships. I will not bring hurt and chaos into their lives.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you that you might actually bring them happiness and joy?’
‘No.’ His voice flat.
‘Then consider it. Don’t throw away something that has the potential to be incredible and true and wonderful.’
With that, Maree slid off the desk and left the room, but paused to put her head back round the door.
‘Also, Sarah handed in her resignation today.’
‘What? Why?’
‘I don’t know everything, Ben. Maybe you should ask her yourself.’
* * *
Sarah paced up and down the lounge, trying to figure out what to do. Part of her advocated going to find Ben to tell him that she loved him. After all, she’d be no worse off than she was now. Only she would be. Because now she still had the merest sliver of hope...now she could still weave rose-tinted fantasies.
The downside was that her imagination also created other tapestries of what if? What if he laughed in her face? Not possible. OK, so what if he let her down gently, with pity in his cobalt eyes? Yuck. But, then again, what if...?
It would be better to just know.
Which was the exact argument he’d used to persuade her to share more about Kevin with Jodie.
What to do? What to do?
The chime of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts and she walked over to the buzzer. ‘Hello?’