But he was stuck on the fact that Tori hadn’t told him. He’d have dropped everything to be at her side. His career could’ve taken a back seat for a few weeks.
Had they ever been right for each other? He’d believed so, still wanted to believe it, but the facts showed differently.
Had they been in lust rather than love? No, he wouldn’t accept that. He still held her in his heart, and knew he always would. But getting back together was a recipe for disaster when they couldn’t tell each other the really important things. It seemed that when the chips were down they reverted to being individuals who didn’t communicate, who deliberately kept things from each other. He’d expected total transparency from her.
Hypocrite.
Yep.
But hadn’t he stood his ground and faced up to his shortcomings despite the old man’s fury? Yep. But he hadn’t told Tori. He’d been gutless, hadn’t trusted her to love him enough. And now he wasn’t trusting her again.
‘Can you fasten your seatbelt for landing, sir?’
Ben blinked, stared out and down, saw the green fields of England speeding beneath the wing. ‘Sure.’
England. The place he called home these days. He waited for the usual buzz of excitement to touch him. It didn’t happen.
He needed a distraction. Not one with long, red hair and eyes the colour of emeralds that filled with excitement and sadness and guilt and laughter. Any old everyday distraction would do fine.
He got one. Striding out into the arrivals lounge, he was greeted by Jason, one of the partners he worked for at the cardiology clinic. ‘Hey, Jason, what brings you out here?’
Jason shook his hand. ‘How was the conference?’ Obviously not in a hurry to answer the question.
‘Excellent.’
‘I hear your ex was in Nice, and that she went to the Paris teaching hospital, too.’
Jason wasn’t afraid of treading on toes—he leapt on them. ‘Yes, Tori was in both places. Yes, I spent time with her. No, we’re not getting back together.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
‘Jason, shut up, will you?’
The damned man just shrugged. ‘The car’s outside the main entrance.’
The car, as in the chauffeured Bentley. ‘I’m getting the royal treatment.’ Not that Jason wasn’t averse to offering his friends a lift, but to have swung by Heathrow seemed a bit extreme. ‘What’s up?’
‘We’ll talk in the car.’
Ten minutes later Jason told him, ‘Maxwell’s not returning to work. He’s resigning his partnership. Mary has liver cancer and the prognosis isn’t good.’
Ben had known Maxwell’s wife was ill but this was worse than anything he’d expected. ‘Surely Maxwell can take leave for as long as he wants?’
‘He doesn’t want to. Says he should’ve resigned before and now it’s almost too late.’ Jason stared out at the passing scenery.
‘I’m very sorry.’ Life was precarious. John’s cardiac arrest had told him that. Friends were precious. As was his ex-wife.
‘Of course, Maxwell might change his mind later, and if he does we’ll work something out, but right now we have to accept his wishes.’
And I thought I had it bad, leaving Tori in Paris. At least she was fit and well and he knew exactly where to find her if he couldn’t control the urge to see her and hold her and kiss her again. But he felt raw. Raw and aching and desperately in need of resolution.
Jason cleared his throat. ‘The partners, me included, have been discussing where to from here. We’re offering you a partnership.’
Yes. I’ve done it. Yee-ha. It was hard not to punch the air.
Tori would.
A great lump of pride and gratitude clogged his throat. A partnership in Harley Street. Seven years on from disaster and he’d finally paid his dues. He wanted to tell Tori. First. Then John and Rita, and his family, especially his father. Take that, Dad. Honesty did pay.
Gloating isn’t attractive.
Gloating was what his father did. Ben gulped. He didn’t want to sound like him. Hell, was he like his old man? Shock stunned him. He couldn’t be. He could be. Hell. Ben nearly choked. No way. But he was just as driven.
‘You can take time to think about it,’ Jason said with a dollop of disbelief and a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Ben turned to him, his face split into an easy smile. ‘I don’t need to.’ But again he hesitated.
Are you sure? Is this what you really want? To be permanently in London? Cutting off any chance of getting together with Tori?
Tori and he were over. Had been since the night he’d walked out of their apartment. These past days had been an aberration, a bit of fun with a woman he’d once loved, still loved. There was no future for them.
Jason’s offer was real, waiting for him to sign up. ‘This is what I’ve been working for.’
‘That’s a yes, then?’
Ben put out his hand. ‘Definitely a yes.’
‘Good. The partners will be pleased. You’re expected at dinner tonight. My place.’
Despair nearly swamped his happiness. Why couldn’t he just accept this amazing offer and what it entailed? Hell, he had accepted it.
Ben leaned back into the corner of the car and took the glass of champagne Jason held out.
‘This is just a quiet toast between you and me.’ Jason tapped his glass. ‘I knew I’d picked a winner when you came for your interview.’
Sipping the champagne, Ben finally grinned. ‘Thanks.’ Suddenly excitement gripped him, making him want to shout out to everyone they passed. Partner in a renowned cardiac clinic. Amazing. The only glitch was the reason a partnership had become available.
‘You haven’t hauled out your phone and told anyone about the partnership,’ Jason observed with a wry smile. ‘I would forgive you in the circumstances.’
‘I’ll get to it. At the moment I’m celebrating with one of my partners.’ Even while wanting to shout this fantastic news from the rooftops, Ben felt unusually reticent.
Growing up, every time he’d achieved something big and rushed to tell his dad, expecting high praise, he’d got a curt nod and been told to do even better. It had always taken the gloss off his achievement. He didn’t want that this time, even if his father wouldn’t be the first person he told.
And who would that be? She would only congratulate you and hang up. Is that what you want?
* * *
Of course, it started to rain when Ben was farthest from his apartment. ‘Typical,’ he growled as he ducked into a pub close to Southwark Bridge. But the weather did suit his despondent mood.
‘I’ll have a pint, thanks, pal,’ he told the barman as he settled onto a stool. Looking around at the noisy patrons, he shook his head. What a difference seven days made. This time last week he’d been in a restaurant in Paris, having a wonderful meal with Tori before going to the show. Now John and Rita were ensconced in his apartment with their kids, Tori was back in Auckland, and he’d been made a partner in the Harley Street practice, thereby achieving his goal.
‘Here you go.’ The barman pushed his drink into his line of vision and waited to be paid.
‘Cheers.’ Shoving his wallet back into his pocket, Ben took a thoughtful mouthful of the beer, which turned his mouth sour. Nothing wrong with the beer, just his mood. He should be on top of the world.
He missed Tori. That was all. Nothing else bothered him. Much. Tori was everything. Even London wasn’t the same without her to talk to, and she had never been here. He hadn’t phoned to tell her about the partnership. How could he when he’d left her that note in Paris?
Yeah, moron. Saying you’d learned the two of you weren’t meant to get back together wasn’t exactly your brightest move.