Convenience

Part 106

Obviously he had taken her message in that letter and read it in a very different way.

"Left Auckland just to avoid me." He sighed. "After your grandfather's death there had been nothing in our conversations that even hinted at the fact you wanted out." He certainly wasn't expecting to have their relationship ending before it had even had a chance to get going. And he wasn't expecting their relationship to be ended via a letter. "That was like taking an unexpected punch to the gut." He murmured and decided to be completely honest. "The shock of finding out in that letter that you wanted out." Before he could think about it he blurted out. "It hurt."

Disorientated. Unhappy. Upset. Disappointed. Everything, everything in his personal life, things he'd assumed, like he had time to deal with this after he sorted the business. There were more people to worry about in his family business: the employees, the share owners, the board. In his personal life the only person that matter to him, was just Beatrice. His grandfather had looked after him. Of course he had parents. But the only people who mattered to him were his grandfather, and then Beatrice. But in one fell swoop, with that letter, his personal life disintegrated. Before he could even begin to address it. 

He took another deep breath, "It took me a while to process that letter, and what it meant. But, your letter was pretty clear. Obviously you didn't want this relationship to have a chance."

David took a moment. The other thing that he realised that day was a quote by Wayne Dyer. David looked at Beatrice. "Do you know the name, Wayne Dyer?"

She blinked. That was a shift in their conversation. "You mean, the motivational chap?"

Despite having reservations he nodded. "When my grandfather died, a friend gave me a book. " He smiled. But it didn't reach his eyes

Offering her condolences would sound trite. Beatrice frowned. What was going on here? They were talking about the farce with Auckland Anniversary Day, well, for her it was a farce, and she still hadn't told him about that day and why she didn't receive the message. Then he changed the topic to the motivational chap, and now he was talking about a book! So why had he started on that conversation about the motivational chap? That had her blinking again.

Before he could think about it he blurted out, "I was really struggling." He grimaced. He hoped that she wouldn't have noticed that his eyes were anxious. Anxieties and nerves swamped him. Which was odd. He was a confident, poised, assured man and yet here with Beatrice he felt at a distinct disadvantage. He was rattled. It was very unlike him.

Her eyes went wide. Beatrice looked at him. She was thrown by what she was hearing. First the Auckland Anniversary Day debacle and now a confession. He was struggling? Him? She always thought he was a self-assured man. Assertive. Self-reliant. Confident. There was something about the way he carried himself. He was the type who would issue an order and expect it to be followed. Like, clamping her car. The stamp of authority oozed from his pores.

But he said he was struggling?

He has never told anyone that. He wondered just how much to tell her. Then he remembered: completely honest. That is what Millie told him.

"The business was crumbling around me." David said with more than a hint of doubt in his voice. But he carried on. "My personal life was in a hold-pattern. My anchor was gone." He arched away slightly, to look into her eyes as he said quietly, "A friend, a woman," he smiled ashamedly , "you probably think, she was my girlfriend." He smiled as he fondly thought about the woman.

"And she is?" She asked bluntly. David read the disdain in her gaze. David smiled. This was the woman he wanted in his life. Straightforward. His heart gave a little flutter, as a seed of hope bloomed.

His lips curved, "Millie was my nanny!" He tipped his head to one side and he made no attempt to shield his thoughts. "The best. Really the best."

"Oh." She added honestly, and she skimmed a few strands of hair off her face as she admitted, "I did think it was your girlfriend." She winced. He chuckled. " Sorry."

He acknowledged her apology. "As I said earlier, you are fair."

She acknowledged his compliment.

A few seconds passed.

Before she said something really stupid, she prompted him softly, "So Millie was your nanny?" She squared her shoulders. Time to take back control of her emotions. But his next statements wrestled that control from her.