Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Connor stared at her hard. She could tell her tone had been too harsh, had irked and confused him, and now she was angry at herself for the unnecessary show of bad temper. Maybe if David would get in touch she might relax a little.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘let’s do it your way,’ and she reached for her phone. No one was calling or texting – she simply needed to break the moment and get herself under better control.
Leaving the office, she let herself into the meeting room across the hall and closed the door behind her. If someone needed to use the space, she’d vacate; meanwhile, it was somewhere private to make a call.
It was a long time since she’d felt so apprehensive about making a call, and the fact that she was so pent up and worried about it now must mean she had a bad feeling about how it was going to go.
Nevertheless, she pressed to connect to David’s number, trying to think what she’d say, or do, if she went straight to voicemail.
He’d know it was her, obviously, so simply ringing off wasn’t an option.
‘Hi,’ she said, a mix of relief and deeper apprehension tightening inside her when he answered. ‘How are you?’
After a pause he said, ‘I’m OK. How about you?’ His tone wasn’t friendly.
‘I’m … When we spoke last night … Did I say something that maybe … I shouldn’t have? If so …’
‘You can’t remember?’ he cut in incredulously. ‘You didn’t sound as though you’d been drinking.’
‘I hadn’t. I just …’ She really didn’t want to get into anything about brain fog, much less mood swings, but what other excuse could she offer for not remembering what they’d argued about, who had started it, or even exactly how it had ended, apart from badly, obviously?
Realizing she had no choice but to deliver her embarrassing excuse, she simply said, ‘I’m afraid it’s my time of life.’
She waited, cringing when he didn’t say anything, and was about to apologize again when he said, ‘I guess it could explain why you jumped down my throat for asking how the decision-making process was going.’
Remembering how he’d said he didn’t want to discuss it, over and over, her eyes closed.
Maybe she’d imagined it, allowed her own guilt to conjure up an excuse to blame him.
How could she be sure about anything when her mind was a blank?
‘I’m sorry,’ she groaned. ‘I’m obviously not dealing very well with this offer business and taking things out on you and Connor is not acceptable. ’
‘You’ve had a fight with Connor?’
‘Not exactly, just … We’ll get past it. I hope we can too?’
‘Sure, we all have our off days, just maybe don’t tell me again that I’m overbearing and unsympathetic and have no idea how to deal with stressful situations when life is so perfect for me.’
‘Oh my God, I’m sorry.’ She knew she’d said something along those lines, and to a man who’d had to live through his wife’s murder and all the horror it had brought to his world.
Sure, it had happened a long time ago, but nevertheless …
Where the hell had her head been? Who was she turning into, the way she was lashing out at people she cared for?
‘I understand that you were stressed,’ he said, coldly, ‘but the words had to have come from somewhere, and if that is how you feel about me—’
‘It’s not! It really isn’t. David, I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to say to convince you …’
‘I can believe you’re sorry, and I know you’re not an insensitive person, but I’ve been thinking since … I’ve got a lot going on right now, so maybe we should take a pause for a while, think about things and how we actually want to go forward?’
She reeled at the shock of his words.
‘I need to go now,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure you do too. I’ll be in touch.’
As the line went dead, she stared down at her phone, hardly able to make sense of what had just happened. Had he just ended their relationship? Had he actually meant it when he’d said he’d be in touch? Or was it going to turn out to be an easier way of saying goodbye?
Barely knowing what to think or do, she tried again to cast her mind back to the previous night. She must have been a whole lot worse to him than he’d admitted to, or he’d surely never have done this, and it was half-killing her that she couldn’t remember.
Dear God, surely this wasn’t how it was going to be as she moved into her fifties and her hormone-tormented psyche struggled to cope?
What kind of use was she going to be to anyone if that was the case?
How the hell could she even think about taking a high-powered job at the helm of a new media company, when she might not even be able to run her podcast here?
And now, thanks to some insane outburst last night, she had no one to talk to about it – apart from her daughter, maybe, but why on earth would Hayley want to be burdened with her mother’s middle-aged problems when she was working so hard at uni and had her own life to lead?
There was always Meena, a dear and long-standing friend who’d stood by her so many times in the past, but she’d been so snappy with her lately, and considering how she was thinking of abandoning Quinn Studios, what sort of person did it make her even to think of using Meena that way now?
She looked up as someone knocked on the door, and her heart jolted as Connor put his head around.
‘Hey you,’ he said. ‘Sorry if I’m interrupting – we’ve just been going through the supersleuth’s latest report, and there’s some interesting stuff I know you’re going to want to see.’
Why was just the sight of Connor, and the friendliness in his tone, pushing her to the brink of tears?
For God’s sake, Cristy. You have to pull yourself together, and the time to do that is right now.