Chapter Forty-Three
Christina is still thinking about the phone call with Lindsay. About the prospect of a lead role. Part of her believes she’s due compensation for what she’s gone through and this could be it, even if she has to work for it. So maybe she is still ambitious enough. Just enough.
She outlines most of this for Duncan when they have dinner at his house, which isn’t far from his shop. He invited her over and said he would cook.
Christina walks from her place at sunset, enjoying the changing light, the coolness that comes with autumn.
She’s clutching a bottle of wine that Duncan will say she didn’t need to bring – she knows him well enough now to predict this.
They have the frisson of familiarity that has allowed her to relax with him.
And this, she has discovered, is the greatest aphrodisiac she could imagine.
So a bottle of wine isn’t all she’s bringing with her this evening; expectation is right along with it.
‘A lead role?’ he says as he cuts into a honey-glazed carrot. ‘That’s pretty exciting, right?’
‘I guess so.’ She takes a bite of her steak. ‘This is so good, thank you.’
He grins, all lopsided and charming. ‘You’re welcome. So why haven’t you gone over there already? Will they be holding the part for you?’
She’s taken aback. Does he want her to leave?
‘Um …’ She frowns and takes a sip of wine. It’s a heavy red and it will leave a stain on her lips. When she was acting she never drank red at a dinner out; if someone snapped a photo she could look like she was a vampire.
He stills. ‘What’s up?’
‘Oh.’ She laughs awkwardly. ‘Nothing.’
‘Chrissie.’ He sounds almost disappointed.
‘No, nothing!’
‘Chrissie – don’t do that. Tell me. Please.’
Why is she doubting him? Rather, why is she doubting her own impression of him? He’s only ever shown himself to be generous and open with her. No secrets, he said once, and she believed him. And she wants to have none herself.
‘It sounds like you want me to leave Sydney,’ she says softly.
His forehead relaxes. ‘That’s it?’
‘Yes.’
He laughs. ‘Sweetheart, I never want you to leave. But what I really want is for you to do what you want.’ He pauses. ‘Look, I could be selfish and say stay here, don’t go anywhere else ever, just hang out with me, we’ll find you a job if you want one. You’re not built like that, though.’
She stares at him, not sure if she wants to hear how much he has figured out, because she feels exposed and it’s scary – scarier than the first time she acted in a play and thought she’d be booed.
‘You’ll get bored if you’re here,’ he says. ‘Only here, I mean.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Chrissie, you’re restless. You always were. And you’re meant for big things.’ He laughs again. ‘That was always clear too. I wouldn’t want to hold you back.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ It’s out of her mouth before she realises it implies some kind of relationship – some permanency to what they’re doing.
‘I would if I insisted on you staying here. We’re not even …’ He throws his hands up. ‘What even are we?’
She’s not sure if he’s giving her an out – letting her have a chance to say they’re nothing, that it’s casual – or the power to determine what happens next. And she’s not sure which of those options she prefers.
What she is sure of is that she’s content here in Sydney. Living back at Kurraba Road, enjoying a gentler pace of life and the chance to have deep connections with people – these things have changed her, and she prefers the changed version of herself to the one who lived in LA.
If she leaves Christina O’Flynn behind and puts on the costume of Christina Clarke again, she may find it doesn’t fit.
And if she tries, she may not be able to take it off so easily.
Once she’s back there, she may get sucked in and the sounds of rainbow lorikeets in her mother’s trees, of sailboats clinking on the harbour, of a cruise ship’s foghorn as it leaves Circular Quay, of Joni’s voice on the phone, and Duncan’s laugh in her ear, and Daphne’s cheerful greetings, may fade. Christina doesn’t want them to.
So there’s a decision to be made. One that will be influenced by what comes next.
‘You tell me,’ she says.
Duncan gives her a quizzical look. ‘I don’t think so, m’lady. You’re the one who gets to say. But if it helps, I’ll tell you this: I think the world of you.’
She had kind of guessed this – he’s given all the signs of it – but she still loves hearing it. Which is why she’s grinning at him.
‘You do?’
‘C’mon,’ he guffaws. ‘You know I do.’
‘But you still want me to go to Los Angeles.’
He shakes his head. ‘Nup. What I want is for you to pursue any opportunity you want to, knowing I’m right here to support you. And if it means you’re overseas for a bit … I’ll still be right here. Supporting you. Waiting for you. If you’ll let me.’
She giggles – she can’t help it. It’s the surprise of what he’s saying. Do men really wait and support? It’s not something she’s seen. Her father certainly didn’t support her mother – quite the opposite.
‘What’s so funny?’ Duncan asks teasingly.
‘All of this. Us. Here. Now. After all this time.’
He winks. ‘As I said, I always liked you, Christina O’Flynn.’
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I think the world of you too.’
Duncan half-gets out of his chair, then sits back down. ‘Seriously?’ he says, looking shocked.
She laughs. ‘Yes!’
‘You like me?’
‘Yeah. I’m not hanging around with you because I don’t. And I maybe more than like you.’ It’s out of her mouth before she can stop it.
Now he looks like he’s won an Olympic gold medal or an Oscar.
‘Well, I’m going to say it first,’ he says. ‘I love you, Christina. I think I always have. But it’s … It’s better now. We’re grown-ups.’
This is the first time a man has ever told Christina that he loves her and she feels it in her body. The wave of it. The warmth of it. This is what it means to be loved.
And to love. Yes, that’s what she’s feeling. She loves him. She loves him!
‘We are,’ she says, feeling nervous even though she knows she’ll have a soft landing when she jumps. ‘And I love you too.’
Now he’s out of his seat and lifting her up, kissing her lips, her eyelids, her cheeks, her neck. Telling her how much he loves her, how glorious she is, how he wants her to have the best life and he’ll do anything he can to make that happen.
‘Thank you,’ she whispers as she starts crying, unable to stop but not wanting to either. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’