I heard the dread in her voice. This wasn’t one of Leo’s semi-regular ‘flesh wounds’.
‘How bad?’ I whispered.
‘I’m so sorry, Molly. They don’t think he’s going to make it. How quickly can you get to Rome?’
I was on Dad’s jet by the time the sun rose and I didn’t even think twice about whether I should go.
That’s the thing about love. You can abuse it, you can dampen it, you can wrap it up in hate, or try with all your might to destroy it – but once it’s been lit, an ember always remains.
42
Leo – September 2015
It’s late by the time I arrive back at Bennelong. The sun is setting over the city, and the living area is bathed in a warm orange light. The terrace has no western aspect and it’s overshadowed on all sides, so it’s much darker at any hour of the day. That warm light is the one thing I love about Molly’s apartment – other than the fact that it’s also our apartment, if she’ll have me back.
The apartment is still and quiet, but I know she is home – the concierge told me as I came through the lobby. I wonder if she has cried since I left; I wonder if she will be able to see that I have. ‘Molly!’ I call, and I push myself towards our bedroom. I find her lying on the bed, staring away from me towards the window. She doesn’t move when I enter the room, but I see the way that her hands are wrapped around her belly. I move towards the bed, and then I lift myself onto it and sit up beside her.
Molly moves slowly, reluctantly, until she’s sitting up too. She flicks me only a glance before she looks away again.
‘I wasn’t having an affair, you know.’
‘That’s something, I suppose,’ she whispers.
‘The lawyer’s office was next door to that bar. I had to go in for a stiff drink before I could bring myself to go see him. I knew I was making a mistake.’
‘Was it a mistake, Leo? We’re right back there again now. We’ve got exactly the same problem, only it’s even worse now because we realise that we love each other again.’
‘We don’t have the exact same problem, Molly,’ I say softly, and she looks at me properly now, but her gaze is openly sceptical. I reach into my pocket to withdraw a single page. I pass it to her and watch her face as she reads it. She gasps, and then looks back to me.
‘Is this for real?’ she whispers.
‘It is.’
‘You would do this for me?’
‘No,’ I say, and I shake my head firmly. ‘I wouldn’t do this just for you. I won’t be any kind of husband if I’m miserable. I am doing this for our family – for you, for me, and for Henry-slash-Juliette.’
Molly passes the letter back to me and I skim it again myself. I remember now a time not so long ago when Brad accused me of having a magical ability to convince Kisani to approve any request I made at News Monthly, no matter how outlandish, but getting this one signed off in a single afternoon was a stretch even for me.
Updated position description, Leo Stephens.
Role: Senior journalist and consultant on Middle Eastern affairs.
Arrangement: part-time, three days per week, pending return to work clearance from medical team.
Conditions of employment: no international travel will be required to fulfil the role – all assignments will be domestic in origin or will be researched by an assistant.
‘But I do want you to be happy,’ Molly frowns. She looks at me. ‘I want you to be happy more than I want you to be with me, Leo – even if it means you’re constantly in danger. That’s partly why I agreed to the separation the first time around – you’d made it so clear that you couldn’t leave your job.’
‘I know, love,’ I say gently, and I rest my hand on her thigh because I just need to touch her again. ‘But it’s pretty bloody obvious that I can’t work the way I have been and have you and the baby in my life.’
‘Do you think you can be happy here with us?’ she asks hesitantly.
‘I know I can – I have been, haven’t I? These last few months – even with all of the stress of the injury and my damned legs not working – I’ve been happy here with you. I love you more than anything, even my career. I feel like an idiot that it took me this long to figure out that just as I didn’t marry you for your annoying wealth…’ She rolls her eyes at my joke, but I press on, ‘you didn’t marry me for my job.’
‘God, Leo! No one would marry you for your job.’
‘I think it just seemed too good to be true, you know? That someone like you would marry someone like me. And I wanted to – no, I needed to be someone for you.’