11. Mai
Mai
Mai didn’t look up at him. “I know,” she whispered and wiped at her eyes to clear them of the tears she knew she had no right to shed.
”I was twenty-two, and I’d lost my parents.
I was getting panic attacks. I ran. I’m not trying to pretend I did the right thing, and it wouldn’t be what I’d do now. ”
“What would you do now?” Ford sounded strained.
Mai’s eyes rose, and met his. He stared back, straight into her soul. She blinked and willed the tears not to fall.
“I would have spoken to you. When I lost my mum and dad, my heart tore apart. I never told you, but before every concert, the only way I could stop myself from having a panic attack was to talk to Mum. And when I lost her, I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Ford’s face registered his shock. “I thought it was a ritual. Speak to your mum, have a great show.”
“No, I needed to talk to Mum, or I couldn’t get onstage. The bigger our shows got, the worse it got.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ford ran his hand through his hair—a move she recognised. He was agitated and unsure what to say or do.
“I’ve thought about that a lot, I think maybe I didn’t want you to think less of me, to see a weakness.”
“What?” Ford sounded incredulous. “I loved you. We could have dealt with anything together.”
Mai sniffed, and the tears nearly spilt at his words. “All I can say is twenty-two-year-old me was a total fool. I should have spoken to you. Explained how I was feeling.”
“Instead, you ran.” Anger laced Ford’s words, and Mai flinched.
“I ran.” She squeezed her eyes closed so she didn’t have to look at the resentment on his face.
“What did you do?” he asked quietly.
Mai opened her eyes in surprise. She expected recriminations and accusations, not the bone-deep sadness ringing in his voice.
“I took a year off while I worked out what I wanted to do. I got into medical school, and I’ve been working ever since,” she said. Her whole life was about her work.
“What type of doctor are you?”
“I’m a paediatrician.” Mai’s knees were weak, and she leaned her back on one of the gum trees, the smooth trunk cool against her skin.
“Children’s doctor?” he clarified.
“Yeah. My speciality is neonatology, which means I look after the premature babies and newborns that are sick.” It was so much easier to talk about work than why she hid from him.
“Do you have any kids?” Ford stared at her, and she didn’t miss the bite in his voice.
“No. I’ve never met anyone to have them with.” The words spilt out of her mouth before she could stop them. He didn’t need to know about her lack of a dating life, especially since he always seemed to have a supermodel or actress on his arm.
She'd met a few men over the years, but nothing lasted. If she was honest with herself—which she rarely was to protect her heart—none of them were Ford.
“Oh.” He nodded.
She didn’t ask him if he had children. He was world-famous; she already knew he didn’t.
“Are you happy?” He changed the subject.
“Yeah. I love my job. It’s where I'm meant to be.” Mai made the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his eyes bored into her.
“I didn’t ask if you liked your job. I asked if you were happy.”
She opened her mouth to lie, and it stuck in her throat. He deserved the truth, so she shook her head.
“Honestly, no. I’ve spent my whole life hiding. Burra Creek is the first place since I left…“ Her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat. “Since I left you. That I’ve felt settled and began to make friends.”
“Donnie saw you at the concert?” Ford asked.
He was giving her whiplash with the speed he jumped from topic to topic.
“He did,” Mai whispered. “He came to see me at work.”
“And you told him who you were?”
“No. I lied to him,” she admitted.
“How did you hide so easily?” Another sharp question, and another change in direction.
“Sie Harrington isn’t my real name. Darren Harrington was actually my stepdad. I was a toddler when he met Mum. I took his name after they got married, but he never adopted me, so it wasn’t my legal name.”
“And when you left?” Ford prompted.
“I changed it back. I walked out the door, left Sie Harrington behind, and became Maisie Jones.”
“It was that easy?” Ford laughed bitterly.
Mai stared at him and waited to speak until his eyes met hers, hoping he would hear the sincerity in her words and see the truth in her face.
“No, nothing about it was easy. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“And no one recognised you?”
Mai chuckled quietly. “Why would they? You were the star of Midnight Thunder.”
“You wrote the music.”
Mai blinked in surprise. Had he just… defended her? “It didn’t matter. You’re Midnight Thunder’s front man, and I was the angry girl behind you with a guitar.” She dropped her voice. “That they all said wasn’t good enough for you.”
Crap. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
But even after all these years, the things that were published about her in magazines still tugged at her mind. Articles that linked Ford to any woman he was seen with, speculating he must be cheating on her, then detailing all the reasons that she was wrong for him.
“I never believed that.” His statement was barely more than a whisper.
Tears collected again in Mai’s eyes, and she thought back to the young woman she was, who had been so in love and so sure of her relationship.
She nodded. “I know.”
Silence hung between them, and Mai knew she should speak. She knew she needed to apologise.
“I’m sorry.” Finally, she uttered the words that had been on the tip of her tongue since she laid eyes on Ford. All she wanted to do was apologise for the foolish kid she had been, and then—
Actually, she wasn't sure what she wanted after that. She couldn't have him anymore, and she could never just be friends with him.
“For leaving or for Donnie recognising you.” The bitterness crept back into Ford’s voice, slicing through her thoughts.
“Leaving,” Mai said simply.
Ford snorted an angry laugh. “Really? You stood in my arms and didn’t tell me. You lied to Donnie’s face. Sounds like you’re more sorry about being caught.”
Mai reached her hand out to him, then dropped it back to her side. She didn’t have the right to touch him.
“No.”
“Sie. You left. You hid. You lied. Why should I believe anything you’re telling me?” Ford paced in front of her.
Mai opened and closed her mouth a few times. What could she say? He was right. In the end, she settled on the only truth she had.
“I can’t force you to believe me. But I’m telling you the truth when I say, I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life.”
“Easy to say now. You had sixteen years to contact me. Apologise, make things right.”
“I know,” Mai murmured.
She’d fought that battle with herself so many times. A small part of her wanting to reach out to Donnie and tell them where she was.
Ford paced more and turned to her, wild-eyed. “Oh, and just so you know— you’re a very wealthy woman.”
Mai’s eyes flew open, her brows pulling down in confusion.
“What?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
He scoffed. “You know how the industry works. Don’t play stupid.”
Mai shook her head and was about to tell him she had no idea what he was talking about when her mind clicked into gear.
Her lyrics, her music.
“The music,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he scoffed again. “I kept your notebooks. I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed some of your lyrics.” His voice dripped with sarcasm; he clearly didn’t care if she minded or not.
Their music notebooks, which they used to scribble ideas whenever inspiration struck, had become a running joke between them. She’d always picked black-covered notebooks, and Ford took to using sparkling pink-covered ones.
When she ran, she left hers behind. Over the years, she’d recognised so many of her words in Midnight Thunder songs.
“Even though you didn’t have the courtesy of saying goodbye, I still gave you writing credit on everything that used your work.” Ford didn’t stop pacing.
“No,” Mai whispered.
That wasn’t right. She left them. The money wasn’t hers.
“I’m surprised Donnie didn’t tell you, but clearly, for some reason, he wanted to set up this fun reunion. You should phone him, you’re worth millions.”
Mai shook her head again. “I don’t want it.”
“Too bad. It’s yours.”
“No. It’s not mine,” she tried again.
“Give the money away for all I care.” Ford flicked his hand flippantly. “It’s nothing to do with me. I’ve got plenty of my own money.”
Mai’s heart clenched. It hurt so much, despite knowing she deserved his anger, to hear Ford speak to her so dismissively.
“You saved me a lot of money.” Ford grinned bitterly at her.
“What?” Mai asked, struggling to keep up with yet another sudden turn in the conversation.
“Yeah. You disappearing saved me a lot of money.” Ford stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her, crossing his arms.
Mai didn’t answer. She couldn’t imagine how her leaving saved him money.
Ford continued. “Yeah. I would have ended up paying a lot in divorce fees otherwise. It’s hard to get married when you already have a wife.”
Shit.
There it was. The one thing she avoided thinking about at all costs.
Graham Ford wasn’t just the love of her life. He was her husband.
“I—I—” she stammered.
“You know what. I can’t do this. I’m leaving. Have a great party.” Sarcasm threaded through every word.
“Ford, I—”
He cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it. I like Taylor and Clara, and I don’t want to make a scene. So I’ll leave quietly.”
With those final words, he stopped his agitated pacing, turned his back on her and walked away.
Mai watched him go and finally let the tears fall. Tears that she hadn’t allowed herself to shed before.
As she cried in the bush clearing, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps until Gloria, Taylor’s mum, spoke.
“Mai. Are you okay? Do you need some company?”
She started in surprise and was about to decline when the older woman offered her a tissue, and instead she sniffed and nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Do you want to talk?” Gloria asked gently.
Mai sniffed again and nodded. After so long keeping it inside, she needed to tell someone.
“So,” Gloria said softly, “tell me why a wonderful woman like you is standing in the Australian bush, and a rockstar has just stomped past me looking like a thundercloud.”