The simplicity of that, the peace of it, burst in his head and dazzled him—but then the enormity of what he’d done to her, what he’d said, hit him and he staggered, grabbing for the closest chair.
Was it even possible to fix what he’d done?
Terrified, he grabbed his phone, called her mobile.
No answer.
Called her office.
Got Deb. Who had only two words for him: ‘Drop dead!’
He emailed Kate. Texted. Called her again.
He risked the wrath of Deb and called her again. Three words this time: ‘Drop dead, arsehole.’
So he tracked down Shay, because for sure Kate would have told her sister—she was a Cleary, not a Knight, and they were close—and maybe he could grovel by proxy.
And, yep—she’d told her sister, all right.
Dropping dead would have been a kindness compared to what Shay told him to do to himself, with a casual reference to Gus and Aristotle throwing knives at his corpse wrapped around a collection of four-letter words. She followed that up by telling him the most diabolical thing he could possibly hear. That Kate had never been in love before—but she was a Cleary, so that wouldn’t stop her from ripping the love out of her heart and stomping it to a violent death. The Cleary way: fight like the devil—but when you lose, move on. No second chances. No going back.
Shaken, Scott hung up and did the manly thing.
He called Brodie and suggested they get drunk.
It was only beer number one but Scott didn’t mince his words. There was no time to wait for the anaesthetising effects of booze. No time for tiptoeing.
‘I’m in trouble,’ he said.
Brodie took that with equanimity. ‘I think what you mean is I’m in love.’
‘Yep,’ Scott said, and swallowed a mouthful of beer.
Brodie took his own long, thoughtful sip. ‘I don’t see the problem—unless she doesn’t love you back.’
‘She said she does.’
‘And the problem, therefore, is…?’
‘I told her I had more tail than I knew what to do with.’ He grimaced. ‘And that that was how I wanted it to stay.’
Brodie said an enlightening, ‘Aha…’
‘Well?’ Scott demanded belligerently.
‘Well, basically…’ Pause for a swig of beer. ‘You are an idiot.’
‘Yeah, but what do I do?’
‘Call her.’
‘Tried. All day. Tried everyone. Her…her office…her sister. Her assistant told me to drop dead. And I won’t tell you what her sister told me to do with myself because it’s anatomically impossible but will still make your eyes water. I tried Willa. Then Amy. Just subtly, to see if they knew where she was going to be tonight. At least they don’t seem to have any idea there was anything between us, so I haven’t ruined that for her.’
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Brodie hooted out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? Nobody who saw you kiss Kate on that dance floor is in any doubt that you’re a goner. The bartender knew, you moron.’
‘Well, why didn’t I know?’
‘Idiot, remember?’
‘So what the hell am I going to do?’
Long, thoughtful pause. ‘Scott, I’m going to share something with you, even though you don’t deserve it—you big clunk. Four words: From Here to Eternity.’
‘Huh?’
‘That night at the bar, before we got there, the girls were talking about their idea of romantic moments.’
‘And…what?’
‘Four scenarios were mentioned. One was Willa’s—so let’s discount that, because it was something financial.’
‘Yep, that’s Willa.’
‘Then there was one about rose petals being strewn around the bedroom.’
Scott snorted out a laugh. ‘God!’
‘Yep. You wouldn’t say that was Kate, would you?’
‘Er—no!’
‘What about a knight on a white charger?’
‘What the—? I mean— What?’ Scott burst out laughing.
‘Not Kate?’ Brodie asked, his mouth twisting.
‘Hell, I hope not.’
‘Sure?’
Scott shook his head. Definitive. ‘No—that’s not her.’
Brodie gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Then I’m pegging her for From Here to Eternity.’
‘What the hell is that?’
‘A movie.’
‘About what?’
‘How the hell would I know? It’s got to be a chick flick. I mean, come on—eternity? But I’m guessing there’s a clue in that movie.’
‘How’s that going to help me?’
‘Well, dropkick, I’m going to download the movie and we’re going to watch it together. And—sidebar conversation—you are so going to owe me for this!’
‘Okay, okay—I’ll owe you. But what exactly are we going to do after we watch it?’
‘I don’t know—not yet. Which is why we’re watching it in the first place. To figure out what her most romantic moment is. And then, mate, you’re going to give her that moment—because words are not going to be enough. Action is what’s needed.’
Two hours later—mid-bite of a slice of seafood pizza—Brodie paused the film. ‘And there you have it,’ he said. ‘Have what?’ Scott asked warily.
‘That’s the scene.’
‘That? I mean…that? Seriously?’
Brodie replayed it. Nodded, very sure of himself. ‘That. Believe me. I know women, and that’s it.’
‘Looks…sandy…’
‘Suck it up, buddy. Suck. It. Up.’
‘I can tell you right now I am not writhing around in the surf on Bondi Beach surrounded by a thousand people.’
‘If that’s what she wants that’s what you’re going to do.’
‘Aw, hell…’
Brodie laughed. ‘I’m just messing with your head, Knight. Nothing that public will be required. I have a friend down the coast who, as it happens, lives near a beach that is chronically deserted.’
‘And just how am I going to get Kate to drive for hours along the coastline with me when I can’t even get her to pick up the phone?’
Brodie held up a hand for silence. Grabbed his phone off the coffee table. Dialled. Then, ‘Kate?’
Scott leapt off the couch, waving his hands like a madman and trying to grab the phone out of Brodie’s hand.
Brodie punched him in the arm. ‘Nope—haven’t seen him.’ Lying without compunction. ‘Why?’
Scott made another mad grab—got another