I HEAD AFTER HER, my long strides only faltering as I answer my phone, which vibrates in my pocket.
It’s Kit.
‘The specialist called—he has a cancellation for this afternoon. Can you make it?’
I curse, skid to a halt and look at Blair’s retreating back, but the worry in my brother’s voice pushes everything else from my mind. ‘Of course—I’ll meet you at Dad’s.’ I toss my phone down on the desk and then grab it again, my grip surely threatening the glass of the screen. I should chase after Blair, explain why I put a halt to the mural. Tell her how it knocked me for six—visual confirmation that, whatever the outcome of today’s appointment with the specialist, and however hard I try to make it different, to atone, I can’t change a damn thing for Dad. He’s part of the past in the business he founded.
I should have reacted differently, seen it from Blair’s point of view, realised that, as much as I feel threatened by what my father’s demise means for me and the family business, what I did made Blair feel threatened too, for Cameron Interiors. I stalk downstairs, pent-up frustration tensing every muscle in my body. The mess I made with Blair needs dealing with, but it will have to wait. Graham, my family, the Faulkner, as always, take priority.
After a gruelling two hours, I emerge from the specialist’s office, drained. The prognosis for my father is uncertain, as expected. He’s likely to continue to have good days and bad days, and, as today is fortunately one of the former, he’s fully cognizant of everything the Harley Street specialist had to say. And the news reiterating that routines are helpful and the prescribed medication might delay a worsening of his memory loss is as I expected. Only the blow is amplified, because I can’t share my concerns, my helplessness with the only person who makes any of this situation better, a person I want, a person who, despite everything, has become a part of my life, which is perhaps why her keeping the mural from me felt like such a knee to the balls after everything we’ve shared.
‘Are you going back to the office?’ asks Kit from the back of my car, his eyes a little tired.
I slide a glance at Graham beside me in the passenger seat, aware that someone should perhaps be with him after the news we’ve just received. I swallow, torn between comforting my father and rushing to Blair. ‘I have something I need to do first,’ I grit out, cursing my stupidity anew.
‘Can you drop me off on Oxford Street?’ says Kit. ‘I’m picking up a gift for Mia.’ He brightens at the mention of her name, and I literally wish I could kick myself up the arse, because that’s how Blair made me feel and now I’m caught in a self-inflicted prison between a rock and a hard place.
‘Sure.’ Although I want to take it back, the urgency to make things right with Blair beating at me like shock waves.
We’re in the car, heading towards Oxford Street, when Graham breaks the tense silence as he reaches for the rolled-up mural. ‘What’s this?’
I mutter a curse, wishing I’d thrown it in the boot, out of sight. The last thing I want to talk about is some tribute she saw fit to make a permanent feature, without my consent. A tribute which highlights the end of my father’s role in the family business, as much as the depressing possible prognosis the specialist outlined in a fit of absolute disclosure.
‘It’s something I need to talk to Blair about.’
Graham unrolls the mural, his small smile a blow, knocking the wind from me and telling me he’s already seen it. ‘Blair...she’s an incredible woman, isn’t she? I remember when she used to splash around in the Faulkner pool with you and Drake—such a cute little girl and so smart.’ He directs this to Kit, who rolls his eyes and grins as he accepts the roll of paper and opens it up for a look.
‘Did you know about this?’ I ask, my eyes flicking between my brave father and youngest brother, so many emotions warring inside, it’s a wonder I don’t explode.
‘Of course,’ says Graham. ‘She and I discussed it many times—it was my idea, but she came up with the mural concept. She has a talented artist friend. His work is amazing.’
Nausea pushes my heart into my throat. I grip the wheel tighter and mash my lips together, because if I speak I’ll have to ask my brother and my father to get out of the car so I can go and repair what I’ve done.
Why can’t my father stay as lucid as he is today for ever? What a terrible disease, robbing him of himself, and how selfish am I to think about what it means for me to mourn the man he was instead of simply celebrating the man he is still, even after the morning we’ve had—fearless, insightful and an inspiration?
‘You’re in love with her, aren’t you?’ Graham’s astute statement causes me to almost rear-end the car in front.
Kit snorts and Graham chuckles. ‘You and Drake were right,’ he says to Kit, and then to me, ‘I think she loves you too. Mind you, she was always a bit smitten with you, so I suppose it’s no surprise.’
My mind spins at the dizzying possibility of his words. Could it be true? Could someone as wonderful as Blair take a chance on me? A divorcee workaholic ten years her senior? Perhaps at one time, but not now I’ve fucked things up for the final, fatal time.
‘I don’t think so.’ I slide Kit my promising-retribution look in the rear-view mirror, but he just lifts a mocking brow, as if I’m the last person to catch on.
I sigh, wishing Graham’s words were true and the mess I’d made of everything could be that easily rectified. ‘Well, regardless, after today I think she’ll be done with me.’ And I don’t blame her. She gave me all of herself, she was there for me, she even tried to give Graham the love and respect he deserves through her tribute, and I steamrollered in, assuming the worst, belittling her and acting as if I knew best, when all along she’s been wiser and more open, and at times shown more integrity.
My palm slaps the steering wheel. ‘Fuck!’
Kit chuckles. ‘I know—it sucks to realise you’ve been a total knob, but it’s not too late to make it right.’
‘It feels too late.’ What if it is? I knew what her ex did to her, and I let her down too. In a worse way. All because I like control and need to be at the helm of the business. But do I like it enough to be without Blair for the rest of my life? Would I walk away from the Faulkner Group if it meant she’d give me another chance?
Yes...
My father’s hand grips my shoulder and I focus on the traffic to stop myself from hurling.
‘Don’t be stuck in the past. I know you feel like you have to take care of us all, but we’re a family, one I’m proud of. You boys have grown into fine men. In fact, your younger brothers seem to have their shit together a little better than you these days. Perhaps you should follow their example. Take care of your needs. Take care of the woman who loves you. You’ve worked tirelessly by my side to ensure the business is as solid as ever—it’s okay for it to take a backseat in your life.’
I’m stunned silent, reeling at what others can see when I’ve been blind and desperate to reveal my fate, to see if it’s one revelation too late. We arrive and I pull into a No Waiting spot, frantic now to shove Kit out of the car and race to find Blair.
‘Do you want to join me shopping, Dad?’ says Kit, as if sensing my urgency.
‘Sure.’ Graham pops his seatbelt, casts me one last look, so reminiscent of teacher, mentor, boss Graham I’ve spent my whole life learning from, I sit up taller, praying I can do him proud in this challenge—the fight for Blair’s love.
‘Do you want me to wait for you?’ My offer isn’t heartfelt, my thigh jiggling with impatience.
‘Nah, we’ll get a cab home,’ says Graham.
I pull back out into traffic, formulating a plan. Then I abandon the plan—trying to control everything is what landed me here in the first place. Time to simply trust my feelings, which have been pointing the way since Blair came back into my life.
I love her. I think I knew the minute she challenged my father to a game of chess. How could I have been so stupid as to focus on the things that matter the least? The Faulkner, while important to me, to our family, to the business, is just a building. Bricks and mortar.
People matter. People you love.
Blair matters.