Just in Time (44 page)

And all the same, she would sit here and look at all of it until she couldn’t see it anymore. Until she was in a darkened cabin, flying through the night back to her real life, her lonely life, drinking one too many glasses of wine and watching a movie she wouldn’t really see, just so she could finally find the comfort of sleep.

She would go back to her life, she would live it as best she could, and she would try to be grateful for what New Zealand had given her. Even if that was only book material.

She didn’t realize the shout was for her at first, so lost in her thoughts was she. But as the second one came, she was rising in disbelief.

“FAITH!”

It was a bellow, and other passengers had turned to check out the disturbance, but Faith barely noticed them. She was hurrying through the gate area, her laptop bag swinging from her shoulder, banging against her side. And then she was screeching to a stop at one side of the security post.

Because, of course, the bellower had been Will.

Will, standing smack-dab in the center of two beleaguered security agents who were on their feet now, his legs planted as if it would take an army to move him. Showing, for once, how much of the easygoing manner was a disguise for the steel beneath.

“Will,” she said weakly. “Why?”

“We were going to talk,” he said. “Remember that?”

Her heart, which had begun to beat so hard at the sight of him, settled right back down again. Sank, if the truth were known. Of course that was why he was here. He thought she was running away so she didn’t have to face him. And it was true, but not in the way he thought.

“If you came here to yell at me some more,” she said, “I guess you’ve got the right. I’m here, and so are you. So go ahead.” She wrapped her arms around herself to bear it. “I thought this would make it easier for you. That you could say whatever you needed to say about me that would make things better, without worrying about hurting me. Because I knew you’d worry about that, no matter how angry you were. I thought that this way, I could be gone. I could have run, have used you and dumped you. I could just be the bad guy.”

“And you think that’s all I care about. You think that’s all that matters.” His own arms were folded across his broad chest, and he looked nothing but fierce. Nothing but furious.

“I know it is,” she said sadly. “I know how much it matters. You care so much about rugby, and you care about taking care of your family. Which is nothing but good, and which is what makes you so…” She swallowed. “So special. But what I did, what I am…it’s in the way of both things, and I don’t want to get in your way. I’m trying to do the right thing, and it’s so…” She took a breath and tried to still the trembling that was taking over now. “It’s so hard. But I’m trying to do it anyway. So say what you need to say to me, and I’ll listen, and then I’ll leave.”

“That would be brilliant,” he said, “if that was what I wanted. But I care about more than that. This thing coming out right now—it isn’t good. I’d be lying if I said it was. But it isn’t the end.”

“But it
is
the end, whether I leave today or tomorrow. It was always the end.” It hurt so much to say it. Even more than it hurt to know it.

His arms weren’t folded now, and he was leaning forward a little. Looking like he wanted to walk straight through the barrier, and her heart had begun to beat out a wild tattoo of wishing. Of longing. If only…if only…

“Only if you want to go,” he said, and her heart was galloping so fast now, it was about to leap from her chest. “Only if we make that true. But we have a choice. We can choose to ride it out instead, and there’s no reason in the world we can’t do that. All right, you wrote some sexy books, and there’ll be a bit of excitement about that. And so what?”

“So…plenty.” She fought to pull herself back under control. He
wanted
her? He did? How could that even be possible? “Plenty, because they’ve got your picture on them. And because I wrote them, and because my hero looks exactly like you. Because everybody’s going to think he
is
you, and if I’d known everything that would happen, I’d never have done it, but I did, and it’s out there, and it can’t be undone. Because I can’t put the genie back in the bottle. It’s too late.”

The two security agents, who had sat down again, were twisted in their chairs now, looking between the two of them with some fascination. “Really?” the woman said.

“Yeh,” Will told her. “This is Faith Goodwin. My girlfriend, who’s written some sexy books with my photo on the covers. You can read all about it tomorrow. And you can read the books, too. You should, because they’re good. Even though, sorry to say, they’re not about me.”

“You didn’t…” Faith tried to say. “You didn’t read them.”

“Yeh. I did. And you’re right, and you’re wrong. Hemi isn’t me. Nothing like me. And Hope isn’t you. But you haven’t just written sexy books. You’ve written a story, and it’s a bloody good one. You’ve written something real. You made me choke up, and you may even have made me cry. You made me care.”

“I…I did?” She couldn’t believe it. She’d made him
cry?

“Yeh,” he said, and his face was so—so sweet. “You made me need to read the end, to know that Hemi’s going to be able to convince Hope that she can trust him. I need to know that he’s going to be there for her and Karen. And I wouldn’t say that I’m your target audience. So if you want to write stories, I think you should go on and write them. We all need to do the thing we’re best at. I need to play rugby, and you need to write books. And I think we need to do those things together.”

She made a little gesture, just a rise and fall of her hand. Helpless. Hopeless. “But it’s…we can’t. Not now, not with all this happening. It’s too late.”

“No. No. I’m not going to believe it’s too late. It’s never too late. Meeting you, knowing you, all of this? It happened at the right time. The only time I could hear it. The only time I could know it. It happened just in time.”

“I need to…” She was having trouble breathing. “I need to go back. I have a ticket. I have…jobs.”

“I know you do. But it seems to me—” Now he was the one hesitating. “That you could have a new job. Just one this time. That you could stay here and write books. That you could stay with me.”

“With you?” She still had her arms wrapped around herself, and she was still shaking, but for a different reason now.

“Yeh. With me. You could stay here, and we could see. I know it’s mad. I know it’s too soon, and I don’t care. Because I also know it’s right, and I think you do, too. And I can’t stand to let you get away without trying to hold you. I don’t know many things for sure, but I know this. When you put yourself to the test, when you put everything you have on the line—that’s a risk, because you could find out that you’re not good enough. You can play your guts out, and it still may not be enough. But if you don’t play, you’ll have no chance at all.”

“Calling your flight,” the male security agent told Faith helpfully. She looked back behind her and hesitated.

“No,” Will said, and she looked back at him. “Stay. Please, Faith. Stay. Walk to me. Just take the walk.”

“And then what?”

He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have a clue, because this isn’t a book, and I’m not a billionaire, and I don’t have all the answers. I’m just a…bloke. I don’t own a company, I don’t have a jet, and I don’t have a limousine, and I never will. I’m just a bloke who makes a pretty good wage that could end the day I get one too many concussions or bugger my knee one too many times. I’m a bloke who’s got two mortgages, and a mum, and a grandmother, and a brother and sister to put through Uni. I didn’t send you a necklace while I was gone. I barely sent you a text. But for better or worse, this is me. No more pretending. This is everything I am. Just a man, standing here in front of you and telling you that I want you, and I need you, and I…I think I love you.”

She stared at him, and tried to think of something to say, and failed completely.

“You don’t think I mean it,” he said. “Or you don’t think I can do it. And the truth is, I don’t know either. I don’t know the first thing about being in love, and I’m sure I’ll stuff up all over the shop. But I know it’s there, I know it’s real, and I don’t want to let it go. I can’t let you go without a fight, because we’re worth taking a chance on, if you think…if you think you might be able to love me, too.”

“I don’t…” she said. “My suitcase is on the plane. I don’t have any clothes. And your mother hates me.”

He laughed a little at that. “Oh, baby. We can go shopping. And your mother hates me just as much. It doesn’t matter. We’ve got all the time in the world to change their minds. Just…stay. Please. Stay. Even though I’m not a billionaire, and I’ve never been the hero of anybody’s story. I’m nowhere close to perfect, and I know it. But I need you to believe in me all the same.”

She couldn’t help it, the tears had spilled over again, and she was crying. Because maybe, just maybe…it was true.

“Of course you’re a hero,” she told him. “You’re your family’s hero, and you’re mine. You’re such a good man, and you don’t even know it. And I love you, too. Of course I do. I think I’ve loved you since that night on the roof, when you opened your heart that little bit to me, because your heart is…it’s beautiful. There’s so much more in you than you show, and it’s so special. I don’t know why you don’t know that, but if you need me to believe in you, you don’t have to wish for that, because I already do. And why would I want a billionaire if I could have you? Why would I want a tortured soul? If I didn’t write you, it’s only because some things are too precious to share. Some things are just…mine. Some things are only for my heart to hold. I don’t want Hemi any more than I hope you want Hope. I want you.”

“Well, that’s good.” He was smiling a little now, even though his smile didn’t look very steady. “Because I don’t want Hope. Not that she isn’t awesome. But she’s not funny enough for me, and not curvy enough, and not saucy enough, either. I don’t want Hope. I want Faith. Because hope is…hope is wishing. But faith is believing.”

She was
really
crying now. Standing there on the other side of the barrier and completely losing it, and behind her, they were calling her name.

“Please, baby.” His face was so sweet, and so urgent. Like this was all he wanted. Like it was everything. “Walk to me. Stay. I need you. Please. Stay.”

It was a choice, and it was no choice at all. She took the walk. Right through the barrier, and straight into his arms.

“Closing the door,” the female agent said.

“Yeh,” Will told her, his arms around Faith, holding her so close. Holding her so tight, her face buried in the damp cotton of his shirt. “You tell them to go on and close it. Faith’s suitcase can go all the way to Vegas. But she’s staying right here.”

Two months later

“What do you think?” Faith burst out as if she couldn’t help herself.

“Shh,” Will said. “Let me finish.”

He could feel the tense expectancy vibrating in her where she lay stretched out beside him on the deck of the sailboat. It made him smile a little, and touched him, too, that she cared so much about his opinion.

She’d refused to publish the final installment of her novel until the fuss had died down over what she called “my dirty stories,” and until she’d known that he was securely back in the New Zealand rugby fold. Today, though, two weeks into the Rugby Championship and with his starting position on the All Blacks secure, she’d pushed the button, and Hope and Hemi’s final episode was live.

There’d been a few rocky weeks in there, it was true, but nothing the two of them hadn’t been able to ride out together. And the delay, the publicity, the anticipation hadn’t hurt her sales one bit. Faith had become, in fact, almost the only person he loved who didn’t need his money, and wasn’t that something?

And yet, despite nearly two months of delay, she hadn’t allowed him to read this final episode until she’d published it.

“I can’t stand to,” she’d tried to explain when he’d asked. “If you don’t like it, what do I do?”

“I’ll like it, though. I know I would. I’ve liked it so far, haven’t I?”

“You
said
you did. But if you thought it was cheesy…” She’d hid her face in her hand. “Oh,” she’d groaned. “What if it
is
cheesy?”

“Well,” he’d said reasonably, “that could be why you’d want me to read it.”

“No. Not until it’s up.”

So he’d waited. Now, he held the tablet up against a backdrop of stars and read. And when he finished, he set the tablet down, barely knowing what he was doing, put a finger and thumb to his eyes, and sighed.

“What?” Faith asked, her voice anxious. “What? Bad?”

“Sweetheart.” He laughed a little. “No. You’ve made me…” He did a bit more repair work. “You’ve made me cry.”

“Really?”

“You don’t need to sound so pleased about it,” he said a little crossly. “Bloody hell.” He sniffed. “They’d better not make a film, or I’m going to lose it.”

She sighed gustily with relief. “Oh, good.”