Page 65 of Hidden Gem
***
LUGGING HER SUITCASEbehind her, Marnie stumbled down the spiral staircase, almost slipping on the last step. She had to get away. She’d thought she was helping him, but instead she’d bring him down, she’d ruin his life. First, his career, then his hopes of being a father. He’d played it down, but underneath, the desire for a family remained, an age-old instinct. Once he got his sleeping on track, he’d want it again, and she’d disappoint him. She’d disappoint so many people: him, his mother, the whole country. Even if she could somehow learn to live with his publicity, deal with people like Kathleen and all the strangers who thought they owned a piece of him, she couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t be a mistake he’d regret later.
Marnie pushed past Jason, going for the door. Sensing him right behind her, she made it down the stairs, to the small parking bay. Fingers shaking, she tried to locate the Uber app on her phone.
Before she launched it, Jason locked her arm in a tight grip. “Where are you going?”
She hadn’t bothered to wipe her tears. “I’m sorry.” She almost choked on the words. “It’s better that I go.”
“No, it’s not! I was out of line, and I’m sorry. But please don’t leave me here. We can work through this. We’ll figure out a way.”
“I need to think. Clear my head.”
The pain behind his eyes cut to her core. “Why?”
“Because I’m so out of my depth. I’m not right for you. You’ll regret this.”
“No, I won’t,” he insisted, still holding her arm. “Please.”
She relaxed her arm, planting her feet on the gravel, sighing from desperation. Every moment she spent here, with him, she fell deeper and deeper in love. In shit. In something she couldn’t climb out of.
His phone rang, slicing through her thoughts like an alarm.
***
JASON TRIED TO IGNOREthe phone. Why had he brought the damn thing? Like a nervous tick, it took so much effort to leave behind.
“Could be important?” Marnie glanced at his ringing pocket.
“It’s not,” he said, grabbing it anyway. A quick peek at the screen told him it was Malcolm. He never called on a Sunday. Not unless it was urgent. Jason fought the reflex to pick it up. He had to show Marnie she was more important.
She made the decision for him, taking the phone off his hand and swiping the green bubble to answer. “Yes? He’s here. Sure, hang on.”
She handed the phone to him.
“You found her, then?” Malcolm’s cheery voice bellowed in his ear. “The mystery woman?”
“Yes.”
“Attaboy! Listen, I hate to cut your weekend short, but I just heard, and you may have not looked at your email, especially if you’ve been otherwise busy”—he chuckled—“but the time has come! The PM wants to hear the empty homes tax findings next Tuesday. Are you ready?”
Jason drew a sharp breath. That was little over a week. Their working group was a month away from any kind of presentable recommendation. “No, we’re not. I thought Kathleen was going to can us this week.”
“It seems she’s not well. PM has stepped in take some things off her plate.”
“Is that right?” Jason glanced at Marnie, his stomach tightening.
They’d done it.
“Great timing, eh? So if we drop everything and put in the work, we might be able to present this tax. They want to release the results as part of the fiscal strategy report.”
“That was never the plan! It’s not about saving money, it’s about housing people! It’s about the principle.”
“I know. But if we can show on paper that the new tax will mostly hurt overseas investors and generate enough to, say, pay for one of those new housing developments, like the one you visited in Hamilton, that might sell it. Concrete made from recycled socks. People love that stuff.”
“It wasn’t all socks—”
“Whatever. It was cheap, right? That means it’ll sound impressive. Thousands of families housed by tapping into existing housing stock and thousands more homes built by taxing overseas investors. Everyone will love it!”
