Page 7 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
‘Unlike you, I did my homework,’ he said pointedly, picking up a document from the exploding tray. ‘Your standards have slipped.’ He smirked as he passed the papers to me.
I stared at the back page of the project implementation plan and there we were – the whole project team, including me and Alex, with names, job titles and headshots. I mentally added getting a new, far more flattering photo to my list.
I looked back up at Alex and bristled. But I couldn’t throw my company under the bus and say that I’d been staffed on theproject at the last minute, or that I’d prioritised date night with Matt over reading the project brief.
‘Working together is not a good idea,’ I said.
‘We’re both adults,’ he replied, in an irritatingly reasonable voice. He picked up a mini basketball, which had been buried beneath a notebook. He lobbed it towards the basket and it dropped straight through the hoop and bounced on the floor. Alex stood up and caught it.
‘You’re playing with a toy,’ I replied, unable to stem the derision in my voice. ‘Look. We ended... not well. We both know there’s going to be weird energy between us if we work together.’Because you’re the only person on the planet I never wanted to see again. ‘So...’
‘You’d like me to go away?’ He reached my point before I had to make it.
‘Umm . . . yes,’ I said. ‘Please.’
He threw the basketball into the hoop again. Before it could bounce on the floor I stepped forwards and caught it. ‘There must besomeoneelse in this enormous multinational company that can run this project,’ I said.
‘No one else has as much skin in the game. If I can help them to “optimise the value of the company’s newest asset” over the next few months,’ he said, repeating a phrase Miranda had used in our meeting, ‘the asset being the diagnostic tool created using my research, then they’ll offer me a new contract to fund the next stage of my work. Which I’ve dedicated my life to.’
‘Aren’t universities all over the world falling over themselves to throw money at the work of the great Dr Alexander Lawson?’ I asked.
‘It’s the great Associate Professor Alexander Lawson now. And yes,’ he said, without a trace of humility. ‘But universities are too slow. I’m sick of waiting for grants and writing applications and dealing with a thousand layers of bureaucracy.I need to move quickly. I want the tech to be out there in hospitals, making an impact, saving lives.’
‘And of all the companies in all the world, you had to sell your life’s research to one headquartered in Melbourne?’
‘Someone once told me it was a beautiful city,’ he said.
I felt my heart begin to race again. Was he actually here because of me?
‘And they happen to be one of the biggest players in the world,’ he continued. ‘Though the fact that they’re Australianwasthe reason I went with them. Patriotism and all. Also, I’ve had enough of freezing to death during winters. I’m sick of hostile environments.’
There was a cheeky glint in his eye. He was trying to bait me again.
‘So there’s no chance you’ll recuse yourself from this project and let someone else step up to the plate?’ I asked as evenly as I could.
‘None,’ he said. ‘Not when there’s a research and development pot of gold up for grabs.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’llbe the sensible one.I’llrequest a transfer to another project.’ I threw the orange ball back to him.
‘The sensible one? You’re going to request a transfer on the grounds you don’t want to work with your university ex?’ he asked, looking amused. He made it sound so silly, though of course he would. Because then he didn’t have to take responsibility for breaking us up, for breaking my heart, for hurting me.
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘I’ll say... I want more exposure to the heavy industrials sector.’
‘What a fascinating life you lead,’ he said.
‘Youdon’t get to minimise the life I’ve chosen anymore,’ I said. A rush of pure irritation, anger even, more than I had felt for years, worked its way through my body.
He threw the ball over my head. It went straight through the net again. He stepped forward, caught it on the bounce then sat down and swivelled his chair towards one of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that made up two sides of his office.
‘We seem destined to only meet in places with spectacular views,’ he said, ignoring me.
‘Destiny is just a way for humans to try to make sense of their unconscious thoughts and feelings,’ I replied, before I could help myself.Curses too, I added silently.
‘Discuss,’ he said. It had been an in-joke between us, shorthand for ‘I don’t agree with you – prove me wrong’. I didn’t smile, though I did turn towards the window.
It was a gorgeous view – a sweeping one of the best parts of the city. His office overlooked the manicured green gardens of Kings Domain and, beyond them, the bay, which on this perfect midsummer day was the same sparkling blue as his eyes.
He turned back to face me. Had his teeth become whiter in America or did his summer tan just make them gleam more brightly? And had his strong nose always had a tiny kink at the end, like it had been broken, transforming his perfectly symmetrical face into one filled with character, as if he was always on the cusp of telling a wry joke. For the first time all morning he smiled warmly, and it was still as disarming as the first time I saw him.
