Forget Me Not (Escape Contemporary Romance) (5 page)

She didn’t belong here, shouldn’t be here, but it was too late now.

Claire wished there was a magazine on the coffee table for her to flick through, something to keep her occupied. Looking down at her hands in her lap, she tried to empty her mind, to think of nothing. She didn’t want to think about what Stefan might find here, didn’t want to think there might be clues to a life he’d enjoyed that were better than the one he’d had with her.

Minutes later, Claire heard the door open and saw Stefan heading towards a small cabinet, on top of which the flat-screen television sat.

‘What’s in there?’ she asked.

Stefan rummaged around, knocking the contents around. ’A heap of CDs. That’s all.’

Moving on, he bounded towards the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and then slamming them shut, searching

Puzzled, Claire called out, ‘What are you doing?’

Stefan came back into the living room and stood, hands on hips. ‘There’s nothing here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s nothing here,’ he repeated. ‘The kitchen has the bare basics and nothing in there looks like it’s been touched. There are some toiletries in the bathroom, clothes in the closet and that’s about it.’

Stefan, standing there with his goatee and too-long hair, had chosen this apartment and lived here after he left her. Yet as he stared at her, those striking blue eyes glimmered with something unpleasant—frustration or perhaps blame? As if she could be held accountable.

‘What else were you expecting?’ she asked

‘Signs of a personality, a life, some clues about the man who lived here. This is driving me crazy.’ He glanced around, his lip curling in disgust. ‘God, there’s got to be something here.’

‘The apartment is very…minimalistic,’ Claire said, stumbling upon the right word.

‘No, it’s not. It’s horrible. This apartment has got about as much personality as the hospital. It’s somewhere a person might come to sleep while they’re in town on business, but not somewhere to live and be comfortable.’

‘You always worked long hours. Maybe you didn’t spend much time here.’

Stefan rolled his eyes. ‘I can see why. It’s dire.’

‘It’s clean.’

‘Is that the best you can come up with?’

Yes, it was, but there was no need for him to be rude. Damn it, this was hard for her too.

Claire stood. ‘What were you looking for? Find it and we can go.’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know. I wanted clues to my former life but there’s no sign of a life here. What kind of person lived here? What does this say about me?’ He strode ahead. ‘Come on then.’

‘Didn’t you find a suitcase? What about your clothes?’

Stefan stopped at the door and turned. ‘I don’t want them.’

That was the main reason they’d come. If he didn’t want his clothes, why had they bothered?

‘What’ll you wear?’

‘I can get by with the clothes back at your place. That closet is full of designer suits and pressed shirts and silk ties. I can’t wear those things. I’m not that man anymore.’

No, but you were once and will be again.

Exasperated, Claire pulled open the door. ‘You can always come back if you want something.’

Stefan shook his head. ‘There’s nothing here. It feels so cold and lifeless, a lousy place to live. How could I have lived here?’

Claire closed the door behind them.

She knew the answer.

Because I wasn’t here
. Because this clinical, austere home he described as being as bad as the hospital was better than the apartment that they’d shared, had been better than their empty marriage.

Because anything had been better than living with me.

Stefan looked up at the buildings and towers overhead, then across at Claire. ‘I don’t want to go back to the law firm today.’

She regarded him tentatively, as if about to argue but she didn’t want to upset him. ‘But that’s why we came into the city centre.’

He shrugged. ‘We came here so you could show me around.’

‘True, but I thought we could kill two birds with one stone.’

She didn’t push him. Stefan knew what she was thinking. Seeing his old apartment hadn’t done the trick, but going to his office might spark something.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said.

He didn’t have the heart for it today. Didn’t want to be disappointed again, and he was feeling good for a change. After they’d left the apartment, Stefan had suddenly felt like anything was possible.

God, it felt liberating to be out in the open, to feel like he was part of something bigger, to see people going about their day-to-day business.

Four young women in pencil skirts and blouses chatted as they walked past, take-away coffee cups in their hands, high heels clicking on the pavement. A silver-haired man in a suit glanced surreptitiously at the group as he strode by but didn’t look twice at two other women pushing strollers.

As the man approached, Stefan noticed he was checking out Claire’s backside with an appreciative nod. A pair of faded jeans hugged her hips, tightly cupping her butt; a simple sea-green tee-shirt showed off her waist and bust without being revealing. Claire looked amazing, almost without even trying. Stefan couldn’t blame the guy for looking.

Further up the street, a group of senior tourists in walking shorts and sensible shoes—cameras slung around their necks—had taken up the whole pavement. Suddenly, they parted like the Red Sea, as a middle-aged man pushing an old woman in a wheelchair made his way through the crowd, nodding his thanks.

There was a real world out here, a vibrant city full of life. Stefan found that both intimidating and comforting. He’d been told about this city, its people, about the businesses and the infrastructure. Finally, he was seeing. And he was starting to question where he fitted in with it all.

‘If we’re not going in to your office, we can do some sightseeing,’ Claire said. ‘It’ll help get you oriented.’

That morning, she’d shown him a map of Sydney and had pointed out the main places of interest. She’d done well, giving him a good description of the layout, so even though he was seeing these streets for the first time, he didn’t feel lost.

.’ He pointed up George Street. ‘North is that way.’

Claire raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ve always had a good sense of direction. I don’t know how you do it.’

‘And you?’

‘I’m completely useless. I can get lost in a car park.’ She shrugged, adding, ‘I
do
get lost in car parks.’

‘Then, between us, we should be able to work it out.’

‘Let’s head to The Rocks first. That’s a pretty part of town, and very historic. Also, you can see both the Opera House and the bridge from there.’ Peering up the street, she added, ‘We can take a cab.’

Stefan shook his head. ‘Let’s walk.’

‘It’s a long way on foot.’

‘I’m not an invalid. We’re walking.’

He wasn’t going to look out at the city through the windows of a cab. He wanted the experience, firsthand.

‘What do you think?’ Claire asked, gesturing at the city around them as they strode ahead.

‘I’m not sure what to make of it.’

To be truthful, after his initial excitement had faded, the centre of the city wasn’t as brilliant as he first thought. The CBD has an unpleasant feel about it, but Stefan found it hard to nail down—it just seemed cold and unfriendly.

The buildings looked almost nondescript as they passed, no matter whether they were old heritage buildings or new office towers; the traffic seemed nightmarish, even from the point of view of a pedestrian; and the pollution and car exhaust was dreadful.

What had he seen in this place? Claire had been born in Sydney, but he didn’t have that history. He’d been a visitor from the States, so perhaps he had fallen in love with the city. Or, perhaps with Claire. ‘Is there a different route we can take?’ he asked. ‘This haze is making my eyes water.’

Claire pointed to a side street. ‘We can turn down here, then go up the next street.’

The air seemed fractionally better, and the sight of a couple of small contemporary cafes and funky little coffee nooks set up for office workers made him feel more comfortable. Yet, as they kept going, a freeway began to dominate the streetscape.

He remembered the freeway from the street directory Claire had shown him. It had been a mix of highways, expressways and distributor roads with a few tunnels thrown in.

‘Are there freeways everywhere in the city?’ Stefan asked.

‘I’m afraid so. You get used to it, though.’

‘Really?’ He wasn’t convinced, but was glad he’d insisted on walking. The exercise felt therapeutic, and despite the exhaust fumes and general heaviness of the air, Stefan finally felt like he was getting somewhere.

When they’d reached The Rocks district, they wandered around, and Stefan could see why Claire had suggested the area. The Rocks was obviously a tourist spot. For a start, it was cleaner than the rest of the city; there was signage pointing out areas of interest; and the pace of life here seemed slower, with people seeming more appreciative of their surroundings. Stefan took his time, too, admiring the historic sandstone buildings.

‘Let’s go a bit further up that way,’ Claire suggested. ‘We can head to Dawes Point.’

‘Sure.’

It wasn’t as though Stefan had any better ideas. It was one thing seeing a map and working out how to get from A to B, and another to know what to do and which places to visit. And, at the moment, everything was new and exciting.

When they reached the peak of the walk, Stefan stopped and looked around.

Now his decision made sense.

He’d wondered why he’d chosen to live here when, presumably, he could’ve lived anywhere in the world. Now he knew.

. The sun was shining, the warm air tempered by a gentle breeze, and whichever direction he looked in provided a perfect picture. Boats dotted the harbour, the water a shade of blue reserved for holiday postcards. Behind him The Rocks lay nestled by the bay, and ahead was the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

He turned to Claire. ‘Do you mean that ugly freeway we walked beside leads to that magnificent bridge?’

‘I guess it has.’

Looking across at one of the giant pylons at the foot of the bridge, he began to lift his gaze, eyes fixed on the dark figures overhead on the steel girders. They weren’t on the pedestrian underpass but appeared to be walking across the massive beams in an orderly fashion. Stefan wondered what on earth they were up to.

‘There are people up there,’ he said.

‘Yes, they’re doing the bridge climb,’ Claire replied, as if that explained it.

‘You mean you can climb that thing?’

‘Sure. They have guided walks.’

He felt suddenly excited. ‘Then, let’s do it.’

‘We can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘You have to book ahead and it takes over three hours. It’s expensive, too.’ Claire added, ‘Not that that’s an issue.’

Maybe the fresh air and the outdoors were the cause—such a reprieve after the city centre—or perhaps it was the warmth of sunshine on his skin, but Stefan began feel… good. There was a big world out there. There was hope.

‘Have we done this climb before?’ he asked.

Claire shook her head. ‘You always wanted to.’

‘So, why didn’t I?’

‘I guess you didn’t have the time.’

‘Sounds like a poor excuse.’

Claire raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t blame me.’

‘Okay, I’ll blame the old me. The new me is going to do the bridge climb one day. With you.’

In the sun, Claire’s pale hair shimmered in tones that varied from blond to caramel, the perfect complement to her warm brown eyes. Her lips had curled into a full smile and Stefan realised she was enjoying the day every bit as much as he was. She finally looked relaxed.

‘Let’s make our way down to the park,’ she said.

‘Sounds good.’

They ambled down a steep path, and it seemed that whichever way Stefan turned, there was a vista of perfection before him.

‘I wish I’d brought my camera. I do have a camera, don’t I?’

‘Sure you do.’

He pointed to his left as they reached the bottom of the incline. ‘Because
that
would make a great photo. I could use the bridge overhead and the street post to frame a shot of that amusement park across the water. What the name of it?’

‘Luna Park and, believe me, it’s been in plenty of photos.’

The park in which they were standing was sparse, just a patch of green, but its surroundings it made it spectacular: the bridge, with the Opera House across the harbour and the glorious weather of the day.

Stefan was surprised to see that there were three small bridal parties having their photos taken in the park. One couple was Indian, another Japanese, and the other looked Middle Eastern, the bride’s head fully covered in a Muslim veil.

‘This feels surreal,’ Stefan said. ‘Like I’ve walked onto a film set.’

Claire laughed. ‘I know what you mean.’

‘I wasn’t trying to be funny.’

‘No, but you have a good way of putting things. And you’re right. It does feel odd.’

They watched as the Japanese groom held a small camera out at arm’s length, taking a few snaps photo of himself and his bride while their photographer set up his tripod. The photographer then proceeded to take pictures of an older couple, presumably the parents of the bride or groom. Otherwise, they were alone—the small party must have flown to Sydney just for the wedding.

The groom held the camera out to Stefan and pointed to himself and his new wife asking with gestures if Stefan would take their photo. The day was getting progressively stranger.

Taking the camera, Stefan walked over to the other side of the couple, so the Opera House would be behind them in shot. He snapped the shutter, then took a quick look at captured image on the back of the camera. Deciding the shot would look better with their heads closer together, Stefan tilted his hands together to indicate the couple should move in.

Smiling and nodding to show their understanding, the bride rested her shoulder on her husband’s as he pulled her close. They looked comfortable, as if they fitted together perfectly, and there was still an air of excitement and enthusiasm about them, like they were about to head off on an adventure. Stefan, wanting to capture that feel, took the shot.