‘Would you like to see the menu?’ a smiling waiter offered, but Emma declined, glancing at her watch and realising she’d better get a move on.
These coming days were without a doubt going to be the biggest, scariest days of her life, but she’d prepared for it. Taking a deep breath, she doused the butterflies that were starting to dance.
It was time to get on with it!
Sydney was much the same as she remembered. The breathtaking view of what was surely the most beautiful harbour in the world matched her mood as the plane glided in.
The roads were as busy, the buildings as big, and the people in as much of a hurry.
And the luxury hotel Zarios was staying in, and where the ball would be held tonight, was as bland and as soulless as his Melbourne home.
She was sick of white bathrobes, Emma thought as she hauled herself out of another sunken bath.
She wanted red, Venetian Red, or Manganese purple—wanted to wrap herself in beach towels that still smelt of the beach and sunscreen, no matter how many times they were laundered!
And for the first time in the longest time she wanted to capture those colours. Wanted to dip her brush in bold primaries—wanted to squeeze out the oiled pigment and craft it into images that breathed and danced into life beneath her fingers.
And she would.
Drying herself with the safe white towel, smiling as her spray tan smeared the bleached cotton, she caught sight of her naked reflection in the vast mirror, for the first time seeing the very real changes that were taking place within her body.
Her breasts were swollen, and the areolae seemed to have doubled in size, and…She frowned down at her stomach. Oh, it was way too early for her to be showing, but there was a softness there, a sort of roundness, that reminded her that this wasn’t her secret to keep, that a baby really was growing inside her and that Zarios had every right to know. And somehow, before this weekend was over, she had to find the words to tell him.
Her hands cradled her stomach as she imaged the little life growing in there—filled with love and wonder for the tiny miracle inside her. The fear and grief that had been her companions for so long now were replaced instead by hope—and not just for her baby, but for its parents, too!
She took for ever to get ready. The beautician and hairdresser the hotel had supplied to prepare her did a wondrous job. Tonight she wore her hair piled high on her head, her blue eyes shining bluer thanks to the glittery silver-kissed eyelids that matched her shimmering dress and shoes, while her throat and wrists gleamed with the jewels the sponsor had insisted she wore tonight.
But even when the beautician had gone, even when she stood more groomed and poised than she could ever have imagined, still there was work to be done!
Her shaking hands lit candles, hoping the dimmed lighting would hide her blush, hoping that Zarios wouldn’t roll his eyes at her pathetic attempt at romance and seduction.
She placed a hand low on her stomach for reassurance—they had made a baby; there was at least one very good reason for trying to make this work.
Except as the minutes turned into hours, as the candles hissed their farewell and drowned in molten wax, Emma felt more angry than foolish. It had never entered her head that he mightn’t come. Over and over he had reiterated how important this night was, but as the hands of the clock crept towards 8:00 p.m., Emma realised that Zarios’s idea of important differed widely from hers.
She was tempted not to answer the phone when it rang.
‘My flight was delayed.’
‘I checked on the Internet.’ Emma refused to be lied to. ‘You landed over an hour ago.’
‘We did,’ Zarios agreed. ‘And then unfortunately not one but two passengers chose to be taken ill, in their wisdom, and the plane was quarantined until a medical officer could verify that the cases wasn’t related.’
‘Oh!’
‘Was that a sorry?’ Zarios asked.
‘No,’ Emma said tartly. ‘That was a “you could at least have rung!”’
‘I was on another call, trying to appease Tania, the charity’s president…’ He grimaced into the phone. ‘For the first time in my life I have a genuine reason for being late, and no one believes me.’
‘That’s what an appalling reputation does, I’m afraid.’
He smiled at her tartness. ‘Can I ask a favour?’
‘No.’
‘Can you go ahead without me? I will get changed at the airport as soon as my bags come through…’
‘You are kidding?’
‘No.’ Zarios winced. ‘There are pre-dinner drinks—Tania said that if you at least can put in an appearance the guests will accept that I am just delayed. I’ll be there in half an hour—forty-five minutes at the most.’ Pulling out his passport in preparation for Customs, Zarios did a very rare thing. ‘Emma, I really am sorry.’ He awaited her martyred sigh, frowning when it never came.
Instead came four little words. Only when they were said did he realise how much he’d longed to hear them.
‘I missed you, Zarios.’
For the first time since puberty Zarios realised he was blushing. He was standing in the middle of a busy airport and blushing at the sound of her voice, worried he’d misheard, and terrified he might have misinterpreted, but prepared to take the plunge all the same.
‘I missed you, too.’ He flashed a very male smile at the Customs officer, to show he wasn’t really that soft, but, hearing her voice again, he realised that he was.
‘Can we talk, Zarios?’
‘Please.’
‘Properly, I mean.’
‘I mean it, too.’
He’d chosen to drive himself to the airport, which with the benefit of hindsight had been stupid. No back of a limousine to dress in. Zarios had to slum it in the first class lounge, cursing like a sailor as he knotted his tie, frantic not that he was late, but to see her.
Every red light chose to greet him. A few Zarios chose to ignore.
Depositing his car, dashing through the foyer, he followed the arrows to the ballroom, consumed with the desire to be beside her. Except everybody wanted a piece of him. Crossing the floor, he felt like a bloody politician as he nodded and waved and stopped to make grating small talk. For now, only from afar could he see her.
She looked stunning. Her hair was blonder, her skin golden, the silver dress she had chosen to wear tonight breathtaking. There was an elusive quality to her that shone even from a distance, and it wasn’t just Zarios who could sense it—like moths to a flame she held her audience, and the sound of her laughter was like music to his ears when he finally came up behind her.
She knew he was there—knew even before she felt the heat from his palm on the small of her back—and such was the delight on her face as she turned to greet him that for the first time in his life Zarios felt as if he were home, felt for the first time the simple pleasure of a loving return.
‘Ah, my errant fiancé.’ Her hand slipped inside his and he held it tightly. ‘Glad you finally made it.’
‘We hardly noticed you weren’t here…’ Even Tania, the president of the charity, appeared mollified by Emma’s charms. ‘Zarios.’ She snapped into business mode. ‘We ought to head over to the Governor.’
God, but he earned his stripes that night.
Chatting, laughing, drinking, eating—and yet all the while just wanting her, wanting the crowd to thin, resisting the urge to just grab her hand and take her up to their suite. But there was some sweet relief. When the endless dinner was over, when his speech had been executed, finally he could relax. Could wrap his arms around her on the dance floor and hold her again.
As they danced, as he held her as he had that first night, he was catapulted back to when it had been just the two of them, when it was about laughter and fun and fancy, being bound together for no other reason than that was where they wanted to be. So many nights he had wanted to call her, to apologise for his harsh words on leaving, to offer his help again—and he would do that, Zarios decided. Just not now. Not in a room where everyone was watching. For now he would just have to make do with the pleasurable option of holding her.
‘If we had met for the first time tonight…’ Zarios stared down at her ‘…if this was our first dance, what would you be thinking?’
‘That I wish the night could go on for ever.’
‘Anything else?’ Zarios asked.
There were so many things she could have said, but in that slice of time there was only one thing she wanted. ‘That I wish you would kiss me.’
That he could make happen.
Life was, Emma realised as his lips met hers, a series of kisses—some that mattered and some that couldn’t be recalled. A mish-mash of hellos and goodbyes, of greeting and farewell, but sometimes, like this time, it was about existing.
This delicious human ritual, the blending of flesh, the sweet poignancy of sharing, was surely the part that mattered the most, which made one human—because only a kiss could truly forgive, and this kiss did that.
One kiss—the sustenance they needed to make it through the night—and then, much, much later, another kiss as they stood in the cool midnight air outside the hotel, waiting for the valet service to retrieve his car.
‘Why aren’t we going up to your room?’ Emma grumbled. All night she had wanted to be alone with him, all night they had been aching to get away, and now that they had, now that their bed awaited, Zarios had moved the carrot.