Just in Time (37 page)

He should never have left her with his family with his mum still believing so badly of her. He couldn’t fix that, not now, because that wasn’t a conversation he could have over the phone. But he could tell Faith that he planned to tell them. He’d do it when they were together in Auckland again, before she left, when they talked about what they were going to do about this thing between them. If he could visit again, or she could. Or…what.

He didn’t have a clue how that was going to turn out, but at least he could do the right thing here.

“Because I lied about her,” he told his teammates. “It was all a lie.”

He saw the startled expression pass over Mako’s face, saw it change to something else as he went on. “She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was a friend, least I thought so. I mean, I thought that was all she was. Having her come over here…that was a stupid idea my agent thought up, to make there be a reason for what I’d done, a reason beyond my own bad judgment. And…” He swallowed, then put it out there. “I paid her to do it. And I’m sorry about all that, sorry I didn’t tell Ian where he could shove his idea. Sorry I didn’t face up to what I’d done and take all the consequences, except that I can’t be sorry. She wasn’t just a friend, and maybe there was a reason I said yes, besides that I was afraid for my career. But I’m tired of lying about it, and I’m not going to do it to all of you. Not anymore.”

Nate was exchanging a look with Mako, the seconds ticking by in silence. Five. Ten. And then Koti laughed.

“Bloody hell,” he said. “That is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. Stupidest way to get a girl I’ve ever,
ever
heard.”

There was some more laughter around the table. Disbelieving, maybe. Appalled, certainly. But laughter all the same.

“What?” Will asked. “Nobody here ever had to pay anyone to pretend to be his girlfriend?”

“Nah,” Hugh said, a smile splitting the dark stubble on his hard face. “Don’t ask us how many of us would’ve, though. Or how many of us have done some famously stupid things when it comes to women.”

Mako brought them back to reality. “We’ve all done stupid things for one reason or another,” he said. “And yours isn’t the worst we’ve done, either. I know, because I’m still carrying that title. But this goes nowhere,” he told Will. “It stays right here with us, because nobody else needs to hear it. Long as you’re not lying now. Long as that’s it.”

“That’s it,” Will promised. He hadn’t been planning to say it, not even close. But now that he had, he was so light with relief that he could have floated straight up to the ceiling. “That’s all for me,” he said again. “No more lying. No more pretending. No more secrets.”

“One more thing.” Koti was speaking up now. “Hope you’ve rung Hemi and talked to him about this, done some major apologizing. I don’t know whose idea that name was, but if it was yours…”

“It was mine,” Will said. Another secret revealed, that he’d been the one who’d named his dark, dangerous alter ego after his longtime predecessor in the All Blacks’ No. 10 jersey. Hemi Ranapia, family man, team man, and about the furthest thing from Hemi Te Mana it was possible to imagine. “I thought it was funny, and that it would be my own private joke, and no, it didn’t turn out that way, and that’s on me, too. I rang him about it straight away, yeh, soon as the whole thing came out. Right after I rang my mum. Nowhere to go but up after that, eh.”

“And?” Koti prompted.

“And…” Will laughed a little, ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “That wasn’t so bad, because actually, he thought it was a bit funny, too. Privately. But then Reka grabbed the phone from him, and…” He blew out a long breath. “If I don’t have any hair left on this side, it would be because she scorched it straight off me. Haven’t had an earbashing like that since I was a kid.”

That one got some genuine laughter from everybody. “You got Reka backed into a corner, defending her man?” Koti said. “That wins some sort of bad-idea prize. Better you than me, cuz. I wouldn’t accept an invite to dinner anytime soon, put it that way. Likely to find her standing behind you with a steak knife, eh.”

Nate smiled, then stood up, bringing the rest of the men with him. “I’d say we’re all done here. It’s over, and time to move on. And if you plan to be directing us around the paddock on the night,” he told Will, “we’d better get on the bus, get out there, and start getting ready. We’ve got a series to win.”

Faith sat down at the desk and opened her laptop. Seven o’clock Tuesday night, and Will had been gone nearly thirty-six hours. She’d had a text from him the day before saying he’d arrived in Auckland, that he’d had lunch with Mals before flying down to Dunedin.

Talked about his marks. Time to get serious.

Whether that meant Will getting serious with his brother, or telling his brother to get serious about school, she didn’t know, but either way, the thought of him doing it, and telling her he’d done it, too, had warmed her heart. She’d texted him back, had had to erase and re-start a few times to get the tone right.

Good for you. Good luck this week. Looking forward to watching you.

Now he was getting serious in Dunedin, she was sure, which would be why he hadn’t called her. Well, that and that he’d never said he’d call her. He’d never promised her anything.

She didn’t need to think about that now, though. She could set it aside and go to a better place, where the problems were so much bigger, but were under her control. Where there would be a happy ending, because she could make things turn out the way they ought to be instead of the way they actually were. A better world, where true love was real, and men didn’t leave. She opened her document and started to type.

The minutes ticked by, one eternal second after another. I sat in an armchair that should have been comfortable, except that nothing could possibly be comfortable now, and waited. Because that was what you did in a waiting room.

My mind tried to skitter down into panic, and I began to count the petals on the flowers in the huge framed watercolor opposite me in a desperate attempt to reverse it, or at least to stop it. That wasn’t going to help. I needed to stay calm. For myself, and for Karen. When Karen opened her eyes again, she was going to see a sister who was smiling, who was telling her that everything was going to be all right, and who could make her believe it.

Surely it would be true.

I yanked my mind back to the flowers again.
Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.

“All right?”

I dragged my gaze to Hemi, and he must have seen what I was trying so hard to hide, because he was closing his laptop and setting it down beside him.

“It’s going to be all right,” he told me gently. One big hand smoothed over my hair, and his lips brushed my forehead, and that was almost worse. I was going to cry after all, if he kept doing that. I was going to lose it.

I pushed myself back from him. “I know,” I said. “I know, because Dr. Feingold is the best. I’m all right. Really.” My hands were cold. Shaking. I pressed them together for warmth, for stability, like a desperate prayer.

“I’ll go get you a cup of coffee,” he said, and I nodded. Not that I cared.

That was why he was in the little anteroom when Dr. Feingold came out at last, the green scrubs covering him from cap to toes. Not looking worried, and not smiling, either. Looking perfectly…neutral. But something in his face…

My legs trembled as I stood up and forced myself to walk to him. And if the minutes I’d waited had been long, this walk was a hundred miles.

“It went reasonably well,” he said, and my legs began shaking so badly, my knees were actually knocking together. My arms had gone around myself, and even my lips were trembling, my teeth wanting to chatter, the cold fear grabbing at my heart and lungs. I couldn’t get my breath. And still I waited.

“I’m still thinking we’re probably all right,” Dr. Feingold said. “But I’m sorry, Hope. It’s not quite as clear-cut as I could have wished. We’ll have to wait for the results.”

Hemi was there beside me. When had he arrived? I didn’t even know. “How long?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” the doctor said. “If it’s fast.” He exchanged a look with Hemi, and I knew what that look meant. That Hemi would manage, somehow, for it to be fast. So I would know. So I could cope, and help Karen cope, too.

But for now, all we could do was—

An electronic warble broke the thought, and she jerked her hands from the keyboard, sat back, and tried to gather herself.

Phone. Ringing. Where?

She scrabbled under the papers on the desk, then finally realized that it was hiding behind the screen of her laptop. By the time she pressed the button, it had gone to voicemail.

Another
ding
as she held it, and as she watched, a text came up from Will.

u srsly need 2 call faith

What? Another second, and a second text was appearing below it.

Here I am doing it. Call me back.

She was smiling as she pushed the button, and the phone rang only once on the other end before he was picking up.

“Right,” he said, and she melted a little, just hearing that voice. She had it so bad, no matter what she told herself. “I know I want to call Faith,” he said, “but why do I need to? Specially seriously. Oh, pardon. Srsly.”

She laughed, wishing she didn’t sound quite so breathless. “Was that Talia? Why?”

“Dunno. Waiting to hear, aren’t I. Sorry I didn’t ring you sooner. Finally got a chance, once my roomie left to go find a quiet spot himself to have a chat with his partner. Hard to talk dirty to your woman with your big ugly skipper sitting on the next bed, if you know what I mean.”

“Um…skipper?”
Your woman.

Stop it,
she scolded herself.
Stop it now.

“Yeh. Hugh Latimer. My skipper on the Blues. Captain. My roomie. Never mind. Srsly? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Especially not srsly. Talia took me for that walk on the forest track after school, like you wanted to do, and it was fine. She seemed pretty good, to me.”

“Hang on. I’m getting another one from her.” She waited a moment, and he quoted,
“She’s pining 4 you I think. So quiet.”

“I am not pining. I do not pine.” Well, maybe, but she wasn’t telling him that. “She’s being romantic, that’s all. And all right, maybe I was thinking about some work stuff.”

“Not going well?”

“No, it’s going fine.” She couldn’t really explain about the story that, since he’d left, had filled her head and insisted that it be told, right now. About how impatiently she’d scribbled down her Roundup copy over the couple days since Will had left, had emailed back and forth with the webmaster on Calvin’s site. She’d handled all those details she didn’t care a bit about anymore, nearly having to hold herself in the chair to do it, aching to get back to the real thing. She’d wanted to go out with Talia, of course she had. But her mind had kept drifting back to her story during every quiet moment.

“How’s that whole thing going?” he asked. “I’ve never asked you, I realize. Never wanted to look. The website and all. Must be doing all right, I guess, or I wouldn’t have been found out.”

“You don’t really want to know that. It’s got to be the last thing you want to hear about.”

“Matters to you, though, doesn’t it. I get that. And it’s not your fault that I did a stupid thing in signing on for it.”

“That’s really…” She cleared her throat. “Really generous of you.”

“Nah. Just realistic. And fair, maybe, I hope.”

“Well, then, let’s just say that Calvin’s got a new shoot planned, and that he’s ready to do it all again, because that’s how well it’s going. The subscription revenue is…wow. Beyond all our projections, which makes taking pictures for craft books, of little girls wearing the cute homemade barrettes they made, look a whole lot less lucrative. And you’d better tell your teammates to steer clear of Vegas, because I hate to tell you, but this time there are
two
guys. And a girl, of course.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Variety is the spice of life, I guess. And sharing is special. Going to be auditioning them next week, as soon as I get back.” Which wasn’t the best thing to remind herself of, even as it was exactly what she needed to remind herself of.

There was a little silence on the other end of the line, and then he said, “Yeh. You need to get back.”

“Three jobs,” she said, trying her best for brisk. “And only one of them with my mother. Career path and all that.”

“Anyway,” he said. “You get the hotel booking, the plane tickets, match tickets and all that I sent along for you and Talia?”

“I sure did. Not going to see you, though, I guess.”

“Not till you get back to Auckland, when I collect you at the airport. But you’ll see me on the paddock,” he assured her. “One more New Zealand experience for you, and I’ll do my best to make it a good one. And here’s Hugh coming back in,” he added in what sounded like resignation. “So all the dirty stuff will have to wait. I propose we skip the boring bits and get straight to the important part next time.”