Page 37 of The Player

‘Yeah, though we lost touch over the last few years.’ Pain flickered in his eyes and she wished she hadn’t probed. ‘We caught up infrequently in person. Snatched phone calls here and there.’

He shook his head, the deep frown slashing his brow indicative of a deeper problem. It looked as if she wasn’t the only one with parental issues. ‘I resent that distance between us now. He had a heart condition and didn’t tell me until it was too late.’

Appalled, Liza resisted the urge to hug him. ‘Why?’

Wade shrugged. It did little to alleviate the obvious tension making his neck muscles pop. ‘I guess he didn’t trust me to be there for him, considering I’d deliberately distanced myself from him.’

Liza didn’t know what to say. She despised trite platitudes, the kind that Cindy copped from ignorant, condescending people. And it was pretty obvious Wade had major guilt over his relationship with his dad, so nothing she could say would make it any better.

But she knew what it was like to be let down by a parent, knew the confusing jumbled feelings of pain and regret and anger.

‘Kids and parents grow apart. Maybe it wasn’t so much a lack of trust in you that he didn’t mention his heart condition and more a case of not wanting to worry you because he cared?’

Wade’s startled expression spoke volumes. He’d never considered that might’ve been his dad’s rationale.

‘So you’re a glass-half-full girl?’

‘Actually, I’m a realist rather than an optimist.’ She had to be, because it was easier to accept the reality of her life than wish for things that would never eventuate. ‘And whatever or whoever caused the rift between you, it’s not worth a lifetime of guilt.’

His steady gaze, filled with hope, didn’t leave hers. ‘I should’ve been there for him and I wasn’t.’

A mantra taken from her mum’s handbook to life, too.

‘He loved you, right?’

Wade nodded.

‘Then I think you have your answer right there.’ She tapped her chest. ‘If it was my heart and I had people I cared about, I’d rather make the most of whatever time we had together, even if it was only phone calls, than field a bunch of useless questions like “How are you feeling?” or “Is there anything I can do?”’

She lowered her hand and continued. ‘I wouldn’t care about how often I saw the person or waste time worrying over trivial stuff like the length of time since we spoke. I’d remember the good times and want to live every minute as if it were my last.’

‘Dad did travel a lot the last two years…’ He straightened, his frown clearing. ‘Thanks.’

Uncomfortable with his praise and wishing she hadn’t blabbed so much, she shrugged. ‘For what? Being a philosophising pragmatist?’

‘For helping me consider another point of view.’ Wade gestured at the office. ‘Dad did a great job building this company and we were close. Until he got distracted.’

His frown returned momentarily and she knew it would take more than a few encouraging words from her to get him to change his mindset and let go of the guilt.

Deliberately brusque and businesslike, he shuffled papers on his desk. ‘I’m here to ensure the company regains a foothold in the publishing market.’

‘I thought that’s why I’m here.’

She’d hoped to make him laugh. Instead, he fixed her with a speculative stare.

‘How do you do it?’

‘Do what?’

‘Live your life under a spotlight. Fake it for all those people.’

Increasingly uncomfortable, she shrugged. ‘Who said I was faking?’

He ran a hand over his face. ‘Something my annoying stepmother said, about WAGs leading fabricated lives.’

A shiver of foreboding sent a chill through Liza. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did Babs Urquart know something? Or was she making a sweeping generalisation?

Hell, if her fabricated life ever became known they were sunk and Wade would look at her with derision and scorn, not the continued interest that made her squirm with longing.

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