‘All those people all those centuries ago were just as real as all the people down there now. Different clothes, different outlooks, but essentially the same as us—all part of humanity.’
‘Yes, it’s humbling to realise how ephemeral our lives are in the context of time, but it doesn’t make an individual life any less vital and important just because it’s one of billions. Every life is important and worthwhile.’
His voice was quiet, but ringing with vibrant sincerity, and she nodded.
‘Each of those people down there has their own problems, and it doesn’t matter if they’re rich and powerful or poor and without any influence.’
She gave him a sideways glance. ‘Do you really believe they’re equally important? Doesn’t that become harder when you’re rich and powerful yourself? Surrounded by successful people? Isn’t it a bit like standing up here and thinking everyone else looks like ants?’
‘No. It won’t happen to me.’
‘I bet that’s what they all say. It must be difficult to maintain perspective—after all, that’s why you hired me, isn’t it? Because you were worried you’d lost touch with the ordinary world?’
Doubt touched his face and then he shook his head. ‘I will always believe that everyone is equal. Because I know what it’s like to be seen as an ant—insignificant, invisible.’
She sensed that up here, amidst the glory that had endured for so many hundreds of years, it was easier for him to share, and quietly she said, ‘Tell me.’
There was a slight hesitation and then he shrugged. ‘When my mother got divorced she ended up losing her lifestyle. Her middle class, affluent life crumbled and I saw her become invisible. Unimportant. Her friends looked through her; it was as if she wasn’t even there. I won’t treat anyone like that. Ever.’
‘I’m sorry.’
And she was—not just for his mother, but for the young Ben, who would have watched his mother’s humiliation. For a moment she could see that younger version of himself in the shadows in his eyes. She wondered what ramifications the divorce had had on him.
Without thinking, she shifted closer to him so they were side by side. ‘Divorce sucks.’ It was messy and complicated—maybe that was why Ben was so anti-commitment.
‘It does. But I vowed that I’d make it up to her, and I did. She will never want for anything again.’
Sarah frowned. Make it up to her? That almost implied he felt it was his fault.
‘She must be very proud of you,’ she said. And now she wondered if his drive to succeed and make money had been in part at least for his mother. To give her back the lifestyle she’d lost.
‘Yes. I hope so anyway...’ But there was doubt in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that tugged at her heart.
‘I can guarantee she is. And not because you’re rich. But because she’s your mum. I bet she was just as proud of you when you made your first sale in the market stall as she was when you made your first million. Am I right?’
‘Yes.’
But he sounded as if he were humouring her in order to end the conversation, and she knew there must be a shoal of messy complications behind the story. But right now she regretted that she’d made him sad, and without thinking she reached up to smooth the crease from his brow.
Once started, she couldn’t stop. Her hand trailed down his cheek over the jut of his jaw and she felt the small shudder than ran through his body. Oh, God, how she wanted to stand on tiptoe and press her lips against his. But she couldn’t—she mustn’t. No more kisses. That was the rule.
So she let her hand drop to her side and they stood for a long moment, their gazes locked, his cobalt eyes dark with desire. She saw his hands clench against his thighs and knew the movement was to stop himself from pulling her into his arms.
‘Let’s go down,’ he said, his voice rough with frustration and edged with desire.
‘Good idea.’
Once in the interior of the cathedral she lost herself in its beauty. She counted the pillars carved in dark stone, studied the marble floor with its stunning black, pink and white design, and gazed in awe at the stained-glass windows.
Once her sanity was restored, she suggested, ‘Time to shop?’
It looked as though he too had found a way back to friendship mode, and he turned himself into the equivalent of a tour guide, giving her a running commentary as they headed to a shopping mall.
It was the oldest in history, with an impressive glass-covered arcade. He helped her find the perfect store for silk scarves for her mum and Georgia, and guided her to a more touristy place to pick up souvenirs for Jodie.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, holding up a snow globe with a miniature model of the cathedral inside and shaking it.
‘It’s cute.’