New York Nights (Heart of the City #2)(36)

Nicholas Worthington stood from his chair and began to clap. 'Young lady, you have just done what many have wanted to do for years.'

'Oh, that's nice.' Alistair winced, flicking a hanky out of his pocket to block the blood coming from his nose.

'Five minutes back in New York and you're already causing trouble again.' Nicholas's voice was like thunder, rolling over the room and commanding respect. It had me stepping aside, and it gained Alistair's attention as he straightened. The full weight of his father's stare was his problem now, more so than a potential broken nose. 

'Time we reevaluated your travel plans, I think.'

'But, Father, I -'

'Oh, I know, you're in the prime of your life,' Nicholas said mockingly as he walked over to a desk in front of his library. 'All the more reason to send you somewhere where you can be a help more than a hindrance.'

Alistair looked dismayed. 'I'm not leaving New York.'

'Now, Alistair, I have it on good authority that one of my most trusted and valued friends is setting up a medical practice in Slovenia, and could certainly do with a helping hand while his wife cares for their young children. Seeing as you have such tremendous people skills, I thought you would be a fine help to the cause.'

'Slovenia?' Alistair and I said at the same time  –  Alistair in horror, me in surprise.

I thought about the hardworking, no-nonsense Liebenbergs, and the remote rural setting where Alistair might stand to learn something of value, and smiled broadly at Nicholas Worthington.

'You are familiar with Slovenia, Miss Williams?'

'Oh, you know what they say,' I said, turning a smug smile to a glowering Alistair. 'Slovenia is always a good idea.'





Chapter Thirty-Five


I packed my belongings and sat them near the front door. I'd booked driver Dave the day before to ensure I'd make my flight home. I had spent the evening cleaning and prepping the house to leave it exactly how I had found it: soulless, unlived in and unloved. I had almost believed that, in the past weeks, I could feel a shift in the house, a change, but it was not to be. I'd gotten up early with the sole purpose of writing Ben a letter, to thank him for allowing me to be a part of their beautiful little family, but with three days gone and not so much as a word from him, I'd reconsidered, thinking it best to do as he had asked, and leave.

I had one thing left to do. I would never get to say goodbye to Grace, so as much as I knew I would never forget her, I wanted to leave her with something to remember me by.

I stood back, tilting my head to the side to survey the scene before me. In a series of white, wooden A4 frames, I had created the ultimate New York City scene on Grace's blank bedroom wall. Illustrations in full colour of a girl venturing to Times Square, strolling past Tiffany's, standing near the fountain of Washington Park, sauntering through a leafy Central Park landscape. A whole array of New York scenes telling of a girl's love for the city and for the family she had lived with. I could think of no better way to tell Grace my story. Even if Ben tore them down, I wanted him to see them too, to know that regardless of how things ended, in the short time I had been here, I had seen and discovered so many things.

I took one last look and smiled, before switching off the light and closing the door behind me. I went downstairs, lingering in the hall, not wanting to take that final walk through a house I had become attached to, not just because it was beautiful, or because of the warmth I had come to discover in the least likely of places: Grace's smile; Ben's arms. This had somehow, without me even realising it, become my home. And now I was leaving it behind.

I grabbed my bag and opened the door, dragging my suitcase out behind me. I sat on the steps and waited for Dave. New York always inspired such romantic endings in movies, where the hero would come chasing after his leading lady, kissing her in the rain or meeting her on the rooftop of a skyscraper. Everyone lived happily ever after, but as Dave finally pulled up out front, greeting me with a smile and putting my things in the car, I knew that this wasn't a movie. Ben wasn't coming for me, and I would just have to accept it.

Dreading the long flight home and feeling at my self-pitying best, I lay down in the backseat, no longer able to watch the commotion of New York streets whizz by; it would only make my heart ache for all the things I could not have. I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the car soothe me into calmness.



       
         
       
        

'How long does it take to get to the airport, Dave?'

'It's quicker than you think,' he said.

'Oh, secret shortcut?' I said. 'Very good.' I pulled myself up on one elbow and looked out the window. 'Dave, we don't go anywhere near Lafayette Street, do we?' I asked in a panic.

He looked at me in the rear-view mirror. 'No, Miss Williams.'

I nodded. 'Good.' I lowered myself down and closed my eyes.



The car came to an abrupt halt, shunting me out of my sleep. A horn blasted and my hands clawed at the leather seat to prevent me from rolling off as I tried to get my bearings and wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

'Are we there?' I asked, hearing the sound of the horn again. 'What the? Have you stopped in a loading zone or something?' I croaked, twisting onto my stomach, trying to find my shoe on the floor.

'Yeah, something like that,' said Dave, getting out and yelling at the driver behind. 'Ha! You tell 'em, Dave,' I muttered as I located my shoe. Then I worked to control my bed hair and straighten my clothes. Dave opened the door, causing me to squint against the light that streamed in.

'Hurry, miss, we're holding up traffic,' he said, offering me his hand and helping me get out; it was difficult to find my feet with one leg asleep, but I soon forgot the hindrance as I stood beside the car. Dave slammed the door behind me.

'Dave? Where's the airport?' I asked, looking around, dumbfounded. 'This is definitely not the airport.' I heard another car door slam and Dave was back behind the wheel again, shrugging and yelling, 'I'm sorry!' through the open window. The other car blasted its horn again, causing him to put his foot on the accelerator and leave me in the middle of the road.

'Hey, lady, out of the way!' the cab driver shouted, and I quickstepped onto a familiar red-brick paving. I stood right before a grand stone staircase leading down to the Bethesda Terrace. Was Dave trying to kill me? Rip my heart out, set it on fire before stream rolling it? I was going to miss my flight. Looking up and down the terrace drive I wanted to scream.

He had my fucking suitcase!

Why hadn't I taken my phone? I had left it and the house keys with Dave, feeling the need to cleanse my life, but now I was screwed.

I walked along the terrace. 'Excuse me, do you have a phone I could borrow?' I asked a family. They seemed to flinch at my manic request, the mum and dad ushering their children away and smiling apologetically. Ugh, where was Penny when I needed her? Don't mind her, she's Australian.

I moved onto a man standing on the edge of the terrace balcony overlooking the fountain, lake and woodland, photographing it all in the golden hour. 

'Excuse me, sir, sorry to trouble you but do you have a pho-'

My words fell away when I glanced down to the plaza paved in an intricate circle. Standing in the centre of the circle was the lone figure of Ben.

As if he knew, he turned from the lake, and our eyes locked.

I swear my heart stopped.

'Are you all right, miss, do you need some help?' asked the photo enthusiast.

I shook my head, unable to tear my eyes from Ben, afraid that if I did, the vision might change.

'No, thank you,' I said, peeling away, running my hand along the top of the balcony's balustrade, banging into a couple of tourists before running down the stone staircase that led to the lower level plaza. I moved so fast I thought I might lose my footing and wouldn't that be a grand entrance. I tried to slow my pace the closer I got. Ben hadn't moved, had only turned to watch me come down the steps.

Dodging more tourists, I made my way over to where he stood. Seeing those cold eyes, I had a good mind to keep walking, maybe punch him in the mouth for his silence. I was so tired  –  of the secrets, the uncertainty from day to day of a man who could be so cold, and then look at me with a fire that burned. How could I be sure of what it would be today?

I looked into his eyes, so impossible to read, and I when I reached him, I stood in silence.

'Getting dropped off to mix with the undesirables?' he said.

'It wasn't by choice,' I replied, trying my best to keep my emotions in check.

'Was breaking Alistair's nose your choice?'

Keeping my poker face was harder than I thought, especially when he was looking at me the way he was.

I lifted my chin. 'Yes, it was. But what does it matter? There are far too many secrets in your family, and it may be the way it has always been, but I want no part of it. It's toxic and ugly, despite the lovely things you surround yourself with as you dig your head in the sand. I am done.'

I used the thought of the all things that angered me to walk away, but Ben reached out for my arm. My chest tightened at his touch, the feel of his skin on mine like a hot brand. The last thing I could afford to do was turn to him, but he was pulling me around.

'What if I told you there was only one more secret, and that was all? No more, not ever.'

I shook my head, fighting against the feelings he evoked in me, the way his thumb stroked against my arm as if to quietly comfort me.