Whoa. Stop.
The images lingered in the air and then dispersed in the chandelier-lit illumination of reality.
‘There you go again. Life doesn’t work like that. I can’t just drop everything and go to Milan for a week.’
‘Why not?’ His expression was serious. ‘You said you’d been made redundant from your sales job. I’m sure we can manage to get you time off from the cleaning job. You’re looking for work; I’ll pay you well. So, unless you’re moonlighting as a surgeon or a teacher, why not?’
Sarah told herself that there quite simply hadn’t been any reason to mention Jodie up to now, but guilt nipped her. Had she not wanted to tell him? Not wanted him to know, to judge? Yuck! And no way. Jodie was the very best thing that had ever happened to her. Jodie had given her the strength to turn her life around, to reverse her downward spiral towards apathy and despair. She had been determined not to take her daughter down with her.
‘Because I have a daughter. And I can’t and won’t up sticks and leave her.’
There was a silence.
‘Could your husband or partner look after her?’ he asked.
‘No husband or partner. Jodie’s father isn’t on the scene.’
More silence, and now his cobalt blue eyes held something else. Something she couldn’t identify, though it didn’t feel like judgement or censure. More like shock.
Meeting his gaze full on, she said, ‘Which is fine by me.’ No way did she want him to see her as someone to pity. ‘But the point is I can’t take off to Milan at the drop of a hat.’
‘How old is Jodie? Could you bring her?’
Sarah blinked. ‘No, I couldn’t. She’s six, and she’s at school...and I can’t leave her for a week. I’ve never even left her for a whole night.’
The idea was impossible, and yet for a treacherous second regret panged at the lost opportunity.
Enough. The whole idea was nuts.
‘So I really appreciate the offer but I can’t do it. I’d be happy to chat by email?’
He shook his head. ‘Thank you for that, but I need more. I want your opinion on the fashion shows, on the catwalk. The new range is due out soon. I want your opinion on if I’ve got it right. If it reflects the catwalk...if you have any ideas I can use to tweak it if need be.’
‘But that’s insane. You’ve got designers, PR people—experts. Why do you want my opinion? I’m one person.’
‘Call it gut instinct. I believe you’ll bring something unique to the table.’
He pushed his plate away and she sensed his energy, knew that he’d like to be up and pacing as he thought.
‘And you could model the clothes—wear them in Milan, give me your personal opinion. Which will also be a great form of advertising. This is a good idea. I know it.’
‘It’s not even a real job,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re making it up on the spot.’
He grinned an audacious grin and her toes curled.
‘That doesn’t mean it’s not valid. I trust my instinct. You would be my promotional consultant. I’d pay you a one-off fee for your opinions on my range, and in Milan you’d represent the whole idea of the ordinary as extraordinary.’
His enthusiasm was contagious, and his almost Pre-Raphaelite sculpted features expressed such belief in himself. A self-belief she could only envy even as she recognised that the scenario he described was no more than a fairy-tale fantasy. Things like this didn’t happen to her. This was his world. Ben Gardiner was a man with a vision—a man who made things happen and lived a life larger than hers. That scared her. The risk of it all was almost a taunt to the universe. Better to keep her head down, behind the parapet, so the universe didn’t notice her. Didn’t drop any more hammer-blows.
It was time to pop the bubble.
‘It may be a great idea but you’ll have to find someone else. Which really shouldn’t be too hard. Isn’t that the whole point? The ordinary is extraordinary? If you go into one of your stores tomorrow you can find someone just as ordinary as me who will jump at the chance of going to Milan. I have responsibilities here.’
He picked up his glass of wine, swirling it contemplatively. ‘I get that. But I’d like to see if there’s a way to figure out a way round them.’
‘There is no way round a flesh-and-blood six-year-old.’
And no way she could or would leave Jodie for a week. The idea twisted her gut with its sheer impossibility. What if something happened to Jodie in her absence? Some horrible twist of fate that took her daughter from her. The risk could not be taken.