11 | A gambit
11 | a gambit
WILLIAM
Rain fell like a metronome, setting a steady rhythm as Andy and I emerged from the warm embrace of the restaurant. Forewarned by the forecast, my umbrella was already on duty, while Andy was a duck caught off guard by the river’s sudden swell. He edged closer, seeking refuge under the dark, domed shelter, an action that lent us the air of a long-married couple as we navigated the wet pavement toward the Tube station.
‘Have you told anyone else?’ His question cut through the patter of raindrops.
I shook my head. There had been a chance to confide in Jason during our Tuesday gym session, but the thought of burdening him with the knowledge gave me pause. He would have to face Cara every day, aware that the man she was seeing could potentially be the father of another woman’s child. I trusted him, yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to lay that weight on him. I wanted to spare him from that pain.
‘Cara’s in the dark, then,’ Andy said.
I nodded, guilt carving its burden into my features. ‘Mentioning it seems a bit… premature.’
‘I agree,’ he said, squinting up at the black umbrella, its inadequate size leaving us to sacrifice a shoulder each to the rain.
‘Do you?’ My question emerged more as a statement. Andy was predictably self-preserving, after all.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But I’m surprised you do.’ He cast me a sidelong glance, his brow creasing.
I exhaled heavily. He had touched on a stark truth; it was uncharacteristic of me to mirror his approach. A part of me yearned for the clean pain of confession, as I had always placed truthfulness on a pedestal, but fear of the con sequences held me back. And in that reluctance, I recognised my hypocrisy. By withholding this truth from Cara, I was acting out of self–interest, denying her the opportunity to make informed decisions. It was an uncomfortable admission, a look at a side of myself I truly detested.
‘Look, Andy, I’m at my wit’s end,’ I said. ‘I can’t shake the fear that dropping this bombshell might blow everything up. Remember how hard I had to work just to get her to date me? This news is going to give her second thoughts, isn’t it?’ As I spoke, a shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold but the brutal reality of my plight.
My relationship with Cara, in its present form, was a fragile seedling, vulnerable to the slightest upset, and this news would come down on it like a storm, threatening to uproot it before it could truly take hold. The relentless rain pouring around us seemed almost symbolic.
Andy nodded, his face etched with solemn understanding. ‘And throwing the prospect of step-mum duties at her might just send her packing.’
‘Exactly. I’m not even sure Cara wants children, let alone another woman’s.’ I swallowed hard, my throat tightening as the magnitude of the situation began to press on me. ‘And if the child does prove to be mine, I’ll be lumbered with a responsibility that could stretch our relationship to its breaking point. The full-on job of looking after a newborn, the sleepless nights, the non-stop demand for attention – I can’t see how it wouldn’t affect us.’ I halted mid-stride, my hand subconsciously gesturing for emphasis. ‘I mean, this is hardly what she signed up for, is it?’
Andy rested a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Look, mate,’ he said, his voice showing a steadiness that I envied, ‘you’re dealing with some rough what-ifs here. Remember, nothing’s set in stone yet.’
With a shake of my head, I resumed walking, my shoes squelching on the rain-soaked pavement.
Telling Cara now, I feared, would be like throwing a spanner in the works. Our progress, already delicate, could be stunted, and for what? A possibility? It would only serve to incite panic. I didn’t want to expose her to that turmoil, not if it was avoidable, and certainly not if it turned out to be unnecessary – the whole predicament hinging on the looming question of paternity.
‘I’m going to hold off on telling her until I’m certain,’ I said as we arrived at the mouth of the Underground station. Beads of water dripped off my umbrella as I collapsed it, the steady drumming of the rain shifting to a dull echo in the tunnel ahead.
Andy nodded, his face grave as he scanned his card and passed through the ticket barriers. ‘Sounds like a plan, Will. Honestly.’
‘But there’s a snag,’ I said as we stepped onto the escalator. ‘She might not trust me again.’
‘You mean because you’re keeping her in the dark?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the railing.
‘Yes,’ I said, the word tasting bitter in my mouth.
Andy looked thoughtful, his gaze trained on the steps below us. ‘From what I know of Cara, she’s got a knack for seeing things from others’ perspectives. It’s plausible she might understand your position and see this as a one-off, given the delicacy of the situation. It’s a sensitive issue, mate. I doubt she’d only consider her own feelings, ignoring the mental wringer you’re going through. Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot – say she finds out she’s pregnant, and it could either be yours or Aaron’s – I’d wager she wouldn’t tell either of you until she had concrete answers. Suppose, just like you, she can’t opt for an abortion – she has to carry the child to term. Would she break that news to you before knowing who the father is? I’m not convinced she would.’
As he flipped the script, my heart clenched as though gripped in a vice. The thought of Cara in my shoes, carrying a child that might belong to Aaron, sent a surge of nausea clawing up my throat. I tightened my grip on the escalator handrail, concentrating on each breath I took.
‘Shit. You all right, Will?’ Andy’s brow furrowed, his eyes running a worried assessment over my face.
‘Yeah,’ I grunted, managing a weak nod. Though unintended, his words flung open a door to that dreaded possibility: Cara leaving me in the fallout of this situation, eventually starting a family with another man. The mere hint of such a reality was gut-wrenching, too unbearable to even graze my thoughts. Her departure would shatter me, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.
‘You’re not about to throw up again, are you?’ Andy asked, a wince creeping onto his face. ‘Please don’t.’
I shook my head, fixing my gaze on the monotonous churn of the escalator steps, trying to combat the swirling dizziness and encroaching nausea. ‘Just… don’t talk about Cara pregnant with another man’s kid, all right?’
Andy’s expression softened. ‘Struck a nerve, did I?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But you see my point, don’t you?’
‘More than I’d like,’ I muttered. ‘And it drives home the fact that I wouldn’t want to be caught in this web of uncertainty if I could avoid it. To agonise over whether the child was mine or Aaron’s for days, weeks, or even months – it would be unbearable, just as it is right now with regards to Francesca. It swallows every thought, leaving no space for anything else. If Cara could spare me from that torment, I’d want her to.’
‘Exactly. And I’m sure Cara would want the same, so you’re doing the right thing. I know I wouldn’t want to know, either.’
I nodded, though Andy’s hypothetical scenario did make me wonder: if the child had turned out to be Aaron’s, what then?
The question was as daunting as it was unwelcome. As I navigated the uncertain terrain of my future, I found it near impossible to envision a life void of Cara’s presence. So, if faced with such a trial – if Cara mothered a child that was indeed Aaron’s – would I endure?
The acceptance would not come without its struggles, surely. Yet, the more I mulled over it, the stronger grew my conviction that I would, at the very least, have committed myself to making an attempt. Only time would reveal the longevity of my resolve, but I was prepared to confront the challenges. After all, this innocent child would carry a part of Cara within it, and that alone merited my genuine affection.
A faint spark of hope ignited within me at the realisation that, yes, I would have embarked on this journey, so perhaps Cara would, too. The path would undoubtedly be strewn with hardships, but I was willing to shoulder them. The stark difference, however, lay in the certainty of my love for Cara; she owned my heart completely. I wasn’t so sure she felt the same way about me.
Nevertheless, Andy’s argument reinforced my belief; breaking the news to Cara before I was certain would be a massive misstep – it could even be seen as inconsiderate. As I saw it, the only benefit of confessing would be the alleviation of my conscience, which would, in the end, make it a selfish act.
‘On a brighter note,’ Andy said as we reached the base of the escalator, ‘if you do end up being the father, we might be nappies-deep at the same time.’
The surprise nearly tripped me up. ‘What?’
There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. ‘Yeah. Chloe and I are trying for a baby.’
I was momentarily stunned. I had suspected he was warming to the idea, as I had told Chloe, but I hadn’t anticipated him coming around this quickly.
‘Are you having me on, Andy?’
‘No.’
A transient sense of relief swept over me. I was pleased for Chloe. I imagined the euphoria that must be coursing through her veins.
‘That’s fantastic news. What turned the tide?’
Andy ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘I just couldn’t keep it up,’ he said, refocusing on me. ‘I’m not myself without her, and don’t you dare call that co-dependency, because it isn’t. We’re simply two halves of a whole,’ he said, the words tumbling out in a rush.
‘Tell me, what happened?’
He sighed, his eyes drifting toward the oncoming train. ‘She rang me after work yesterday, in floods of tears, asking if we could talk. When I arrived, she told me she didn’t care about having kids anymore. She just couldn’t bear this distance between us. And I know this might sound ridiculous, but that changed everything for me. The fact that she’s ready to shelve her dream of motherhood, just to be with me – that she’d sacrifice something she’s wanted for so long, just to make me happy, just so we can be together… It made me realise I’ve been a selfish prick, that it’s about time I became the man she deserves.’
I couldn’t suppress my smile. ‘Better late than never.’
‘Yeah… So, one thing led to another – no contraceptives involved – and this morning, I told her to skip the morning-after pill. And now I’m freaking out, though not in a bad way. I’m just,’ he paused, searching for the right word, ‘boggled. If she does get pregnant, I’m going to be a dad. Can you imagine that? Me?’ He gestured toward himself, then shook his head in incredulity.
‘I’m very happy for you, Andy,’ I said, meaning every word. ‘You’re going to be a top-notch dad. Do you reckon she’s listened to you?’
‘She’s been dropping me texts every hour, asking if I’m certain, reminding me she’s still in the window to take the pill. But I’m not going to change my mind. I’ve had years to consider this, and last night, I finally made my decision. And when I make up my mind about something, it’s final – especially with matters of this magnitude.’
‘Good. I’m proud of you, Andy.’
He gave a smile. ‘I’m proud of me, too.’
As I regarded him, the stark disparity of our situations came into sharp focus. This was the proper reaction to the prospect of fatherhood – brimming with joy, jubilation, and anticipation. A glaring contrast to my own reality. Andy and I found ourselves in ostensibly similar situations, yet they were underscored by polar emotions. An unbidden sting of envy seared through me, even as I was genuinely happy for him. I found myself longing for that joy, wishing it could have been me.
It was at that moment I realised that, if Cara had been the one to bear the news of a pregnancy, of our child, my reaction would have been closer to Andy’s. It would have been precipitous for us, certainly not ideal, but it wouldn’t have been marred with the dread I currently wrestled with. My concerns would have been of an entirely different nature: sorting out the practicalities, suggesting we move in together, scouring for a home suitable for a child.
Yet, that was a reverie, not my reality, and its indulgence only served to amplify my anguish. Still, there was a sliver of solace in the fact that Andy and I might be venturing into the world of fatherhood together. We could bond over the tribulations of parenting, and our children could grow up side by side.
But it would not alter the truth that my child would not be Cara’s, and it might still end up costing me the woman that I loved.
§ § §
As the office building materialised in our path, a surge of apprehension propelled my heart into a gallop. There, within those walls, would be Cara, her eyes the colour of late-twilight skies, holding me captive with their enigmatic allure.
I drew in a deep breath, steeling myself against the flood of emotions. As I prepared to face her, I put on that mask of indifference, a charade that felt repulsive, designed as it was to deceive her, ultimately betraying my principles. But it was only temporary, I consoled myself. As soon as I had the answers, I would tell her everything.
Relocating her back to the open-plan area had been a wise decision. There were moments when I teetered on the brink of collapse, and her constant presence might have tipped me over, causing an untimely confession. I barely managed to maintain my fa?ade around her, and I knew she was beginning to sense that something was not right. She had inquired about my erratic behaviour more than once, and with each evasive response, I was only postponing the inevitable. It was only a matter of time before she pieced together the fragments and recognised the pattern, amplifying her vigilance. And if she finally insisted on full transparency, I doubted my capacity to continue this deception. I would break under the pressure, whether I was ready or not. My only hope was to have the answers before that day arrived.
‘I think we should bring Alex up to speed,’ Andy said as we entered the lift, casting me a cautious glance. ‘If you’re comfortable, of course.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘Wouldn’t want him feeling left out,’ I said. ‘But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be the one to do it.’
The idea of going over my problems again was exhausting. Discussing them once with Andy had been a weight lifted, but having to repeat those fears and uncertainties felt like a tedious chore I’d rather avoid. And the image of Alex’s reaction, his eyes brimming with pity, held no appeal.
‘Fair enough,’ Andy said. ‘Any details you’d like me to leave out?’
I shook my head. ‘Share as you see fit, but do ask him not to ring me about it. I’d like to be the one deciding when it’s time to chat about this mess.’
‘Duly noted.’
The lift’s display illuminated each floor we ascended, my breathing syncing with the rise, becoming more laboured as we climbed higher. As the tenth floor’s glowing numeral greeted us, my breath hitched in my chest. Andy threw me a concerned look, but I paid him no mind, my focus narrowing to a tunnel-visioned path as I stepped out.
I was half-resolved to ignore Cara’s presence should she be at her desk. It was a coward’s tactic, born out of the heartache of encountering her warm, adoring gaze – a gaze I knew I hadn’t earned the right to receive.
However, sidestepping her would be unwise. She would naturally expect a casual acknowledgement, and any absence of such would certainly raise questions. And so, with some reluctance, I scanned the open-plan area. As I had anticipated, Cara was there, her long brown hair cascading down her back as she intently studied her laptop screen.
The perfect opportunity presented itself: I could slip past unnoticed, later feigning concern about disturbing her work if confronted. But I decided against it, knowing it would be more prudent to act as usual. So, against my first instinct, I strode toward her, reminding myself of the bigger picture – this would all pay off in the end. At least, that was the hope.
Yet, just as she lifted her gaze and registered my approach, my phone vibrated, tucked away in the inner pocket of my suit jacket. An unknown number flashed on the screen. With a pointed look at Cara, I lifted the phone to my ear, signalling that our interaction would be delayed.
‘William Night speaking,’ I answered, my gaze still locked with Cara’s.
‘Hello, this is Robert Simmons,’ came the response.
Recognition lit up my mind. This was an important call. I pointed to my phone and then to my office, reassuring Cara with a look that this was an unexpected interruption, nothing more. She nodded in understanding, and I turned away to continue the conversation in private.
‘Mr Simmons,’ I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. ‘I appreciate you reaching out.’
‘Yes, well, when I saw your message, I figured I’d at least hear you out,’ he replied, a note of hesitation lacing his voice. But I could hardly blame him.
I had come across Robert Simmons during my investigation into Gastronomy Group earlier in the week, as I trawled through public LinkedIn profiles of former and current employees. It was an investigative tactic I had picked up over the years – uncovering inconsistencies in employee profiles often led to valuable insights. Amidst the predictable progression of careers, Robert’s departure as Strategy Manager nine months ago stood out like a sore thumb. Had he resigned, or had he been sacked? And why? His prior role in strategic planning meant he might have useful information regarding the company’s expansion tactics. In the carefully concealed world of corporate subterfuge, an insider’s perspective was worth its weight in gold.
Before making contact, I had cross-referenced his LinkedIn profile with a company report on Gastronomy Group, which I had requested from Day & Night’s business intelligence service for extra verification. Robert’s name was there, confirming his former employment and his role. With that assurance, I reached out to him on LinkedIn, sending a carefully worded invitation for a conversation. And now here he was, his hesitant voice hinting at untold stories.
‘I’ll get right to it, then,’ I said as I closed the door to my office. ‘As you read in my message, I’ve been doing some due diligence on Gastronomy Group, and your name came up as someone who might have valuable insights.’
Silence ensued. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head.
‘What exactly do you want to know?’ he asked.
‘I’m interested in understanding their strategy, particularly their expansion tactics,’ I said, choosing my words carefully. ‘You were in a key position, and your input could be instrumental.’
Again, silence followed. I held my breath, realising that Robert’s next words might have a significant impact on my investigation.
‘This isn’t a conversation I’m comfortable having over the phone, Mr Night,’ he said, his tone suggesting he was weighing his options. ‘Would you be willing to meet for dinner? Say, tomorrow evening at seven o’clock?’
I was taken aback, but pleased. This was better than I could have hoped for.
‘Sounds like a plan, Mr Simmons. Where should we meet?’
The line went quiet again as he considered his response. I waited patiently, knowing the ball was in his court. After a moment, he gave the name of a restaurant, and we agreed to meet there the following day at the appointed time. As the call ended, I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest. If this meeting went well, I would be one step closer to unravelling Gastronomy Group’s potentially underhanded tactics and safeguarding Fusion’s future.
With a sigh, I settled back into my chair and composed an email to Jian, keeping him updated about the development. Once that was done, I cast a hesitant glance toward my office door.
The choice was simple: stay put and continue working or step out to greet Cara. Given the task at hand, my decision was straightforward – better to utilise the time documenting the meeting with Gerard and Tom Clifford rather than stepping out for the sake of politeness. With that in mind, I powered up my desktop computer and plunged into the work.
I had lost track of time, immersed in the details of the Clifford meeting, when a soft knock broke my concentration. Dread gripped me at the thought of who might be on the other side. I took a deep breath, forcing my face to settle into a neutral expression.
‘Come in.’
Cara eased the door open, her soft features catching the light. Seeing the gentle slope of her small nose, punctuated by a constellation of charming freckles, sent a dull ache through my chest. Her lips curved in a small, intimate smile as our eyes met.
‘Just a quick one,’ she said, her voice as velvety and soothing as ever. ‘I ran into some issues with the compliance research while you were away. I’ve emailed you the details. Not sure if you’ve seen it.’
I nodded, swiftly shifting my attention back to the sanctuary of my screen. Holding her gaze had become an emotional ordeal. It felt like her eyes transformed into merciless mirrors, reflecting back at me the most hideous aspects of my character, whispering the insidious notion that I was unworthy of her. It was a marvel that I had not yet disintegrated under the crushing weight of her gaze.
‘I’ll take a look once I’m done with this report,’ I said, allowing a brief moment of eye contact.
‘Great. How’d the meeting go?’
The question was innocent, but it reminded me of the less glamorous parts of the afternoon. I kept my face composed.
‘It was productive.’ My thoughts pivoted. ‘And the call I just received – it was from a former Gastronomy Group employee. He wants to have dinner tomorrow.’
As I said the words, I could almost see the forthcoming complications entwining like a knotted legal argument. There were arrangements in place – Cara was meant to stay at my flat because Jason was throwing a bash at theirs. But now, this dinner…
Cara swung the door open wider, her expression unreadable as she moved further into the room. ‘Right, no problem. I’ll stay at my parents’ instead.’
The prospect of her staying elsewhere was tempting – a chance to breathe, to gather my thoughts in solitude – but I instantly curbed the impulse. Constantly seeking opportunities to put distance between us wouldn’t foster the enduring, stable relationship I was aiming for. On the contrary, it risked creating an environment of avoidance and uncertainty, a far cry from the safe, cherished space I wanted for her. It would be an act of self-sabotage, a path I could ill afford to tread.
‘No, I’d rather you stayed at mine,’ I said. ‘But it means I’ll have to leave you on your own for a few hours while I meet with him.’
Her shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. ‘That’s all right. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.’
‘Good.’
Her gaze lingered on me, my heart pounding at the silent scrutiny. Was she growing suspicious? Would she confront me? Pose a question I didn’t want to answer?
She finally broke the silence, her arms folding contemplatively. ‘An ex-employee, you say. How did you manage that?’
A wave of relief surged through me at her benign inquiry. To her, my subsequent exhale might have appeared as a regular sigh of weariness.
‘Lots of sleuthing,’ I said. ‘LinkedIn turned out to be quite valuable.’
‘LinkedIn? That’s an innovative approach.’
I made a gesture with my hand. ‘It worked out. Now it’s about seeing how much he’s willing to share.’
‘And his previous role was…?’
‘Strategy Manager.’
Her eyebrows shot up in a blend of surprise and respect. ‘Wow. Impressive find, Will.’
‘Potentially. It could also end up being a fruitless endeavour.’
She held up a hand, crossing her fingers. ‘Let’s hope for the best, then.’
Indeed, I was hoping – not just for this, but for everything else as well. Every decision, every interaction, was a gambit, and the stakes could not have been higher .