I wish I could explain, but there’s no way I will. I wish I could tell her how worried he’ll be, how much tragedy he’s been through. I wish I could tell her that keeping me safe is everything to Daddy Nick.
I try to figure a way to get hold of him, but the idea of calling him at the office practically brings on a panic attack. What would I even say? And would he be angry?
More angry than he’ll be at me for forgetting my phone?
I probably already made him late this morning, and now this. I feel like such an idiot.
Maybe he’ll punish me.
The thought is right there, and so is the guilty flutter between my legs.
I shouldn’t want that. Definitely shouldn’t want him to be mad with me. Disappointed in me.
I wonder if he’ll use the belt his father used on him. I wonder how much it’ll hurt.
Maybe he won’t.
Maybe he’ll brush it off and tell me to be more careful next time.
I doubt it. And I’m not sure that’s such a bad thing.
“Chill, Laine, you look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” Kelly Anne sighs and takes a swig of her drink.
The nerves are dancing in my tummy, and the tickles tickle between my legs. I feel sick, hot and cold and tingly all at once.
“I shouldn’t have forgotten my phone,” I say.
But Kelly Anne doesn’t care at all.
Nick
I call again. And again after that.
I stare at my phone screen and breathe through the irrational nerves.
Maybe she’s been held up in class. Maybe she’s in a noisy canteen.
It happens.
I’m fooling myself. It’s part of the rules, our lunchtime phone call. She always answers on the second ring. Like clockwork.
Only not today.
I consider my options, contemplating calling the college reception and leaving a message for her, but what would be the point?
I’ll look like a stalker for the sake of easing my paranoia, that or alarm her unnecessarily.
I force myself to get a grip, to reflect on the morning and weigh up the situation rationally.
She was tired and rushed, barely awake when I dropped her off at college. There’s almost certainly an entirely innocent explanation.
Almost certainly.
If there is then I shall punish her for breaking the rules so carelessly, and if there isn’t…
I daren’t even give that a thought.
I struggle through my afternoon appointments, endeavouring to give my clients my professional attention with my nerves wound tight in my chest.
I try Laine’s phone again during a lull in meetings. It rings through to voicemail just as Michael French steps into my room. He’s my joint senior partner, as much of a friend as I’d class anyone, not that the bar’s particularly high.
His smile tells me he’s heard the news. I wouldn’t have imagined anything less, not now I’ve given Penny gossip-worthy detail. I didn’t expect the news would stay a secret, and I’m sure Penny didn’t consider it confidential information, not now I’m officially bringing my partner to the Christmas party.
“Tell me about Laine with the pink diamond,” Mike says and holds out his hand across the desk. “Congratulations on the couple status.”
I shake it warmly. “Word travels fast…”
“Secretaries talk.” He tips his head. “She must be quite a woman to snare a stoic old dog like you.”
“Enough of the old.” I laugh a professional laugh, even though it feels like rusty iron in my throat.
“So,” he prompts. “What’s she like? You kept that one close to your chest.”
I cast another glance at my phone before I answer. No messages. “She’s sweet and kind. Gracious. Beautiful.”
“Blonde?”
I smile. “Blonde, yes.”
“Nice legs?”
I meet his stare. “Nice smile. A nice heart. The legs are merely a bonus, Mike.”
“So she does have nice legs…” He laughs to himself. “Can’t wait to meet her. I’m sure Barbara will love getting to know her.”
Barbara French celebrated her fiftieth birthday last summer. She’s a wildfire, a sharp cracker with a sharp tongue and absolutely nothing in common with little Laine.
Mike’s digging and I know it. I make him wait, pretending to check out a fresh email.
I use the moment to contemplate whether I’m ready for this, but it doesn’t take all that long to consider.
I’m ready for everything Laine brings to my life, including any awkward questions.
I take a breath. “She’s eighteen, Mike.” I hold his stare without flinching.
He doesn’t flinch either. “A sweet young thing, I’m sure.”
“Very.”
“Then I’m happy for you.” His smile is genuine enough. “We should go out one night, celebrate with some champagne. Introduce young Laine to our office family.”
“She’ll be coming to the Christmas party,” I tell him, like he hasn’t already heard.
“Excellent. I’ll be bringing Caroline, she’s back from university and no doubt she’ll be bored enough to come along. I’m sure they’ll get on fantastically. Maybe they could spend some time together. Caroline gets lonely without her uni pals. You know how it is when you’re that age.”
I’m not sure I remember, but smile regardless. “I’m sure Laine would enjoy that,” I tell him.
“Excellent,” he says. “I look forward to meeting the future Mrs Lynch.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s quite a statement.”
“She must be quite a woman,” he says again. “Any woman that can catch your heart after all these years has got to be one to keep hold of.” He tips his head at me. “I’ll get Barbara to pick out a hat ready for the big day.”
“You do that,” I say.
He thinks I’m joking, I’m sure, and on some level I am. Making polite conversation for the sake of appearances. But it’s more than that.
She’s becoming a part of my life.
It feels beautiful, and that only makes me worry all the more.
I try her phone again.
Laine
I rush out through the college gates, sighing in relief to find his car in the usual spot. I throw myself into the passenger seat, full of sorry explanations.
I’m an idiot! I forgot my phone! I rushed out and left it there, right there by the bedside table! I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot.
He doesn’t say a word, just reverses the Mercedes out of the space and heads for home.
I don’t know what else I can say, so I say nothing, just tap my fingers on my lunchbox.
I wish he’d go crazy and tell me how angry he is, just to get it over with, but he doesn’t.
“I was worried,” he says, so simply.
“I know,” I tell him. “I get it. I get how worried you’d be. I’m really sorry.”
“Rushing is a fool’s errand, Laine. Carelessness leads nowhere good.”
I tell him I know that, too. Tell him I’m sorry again.
He says nothing else, just stares at the road ahead.
I hate how it feels to disappoint him.
He pulls onto our driveway and parks up as usual. He opens the front door and steps inside as usual. Hangs his jacket up as usual.
And then he heads through to the sitting room. I follow him, hoping that maybe he’ll break the ice and tell me about his day, but he doesn’t.
He unfastens his cufflinks as I watch, and rolls his cuffs back.
My heart races, and I’m not even sure why. I just know that something’s brewing.