Adam’s Boys (22 page)

Justin looked away from her and began to touch upon some of the implications of his announcement, but Abbie wasn't listening. Her heart and mind were in too much turmoil. In fact, it felt like she'd been swept up inside an avalanche and was being carried at wild, uncontrolled speeds down a steep mountain. Yet she wasn't afraid—all she felt was exhilaration.

Suddenly everything and anything felt possible. And as she stared blindly across at Justin she knew she had to ask herself that question once again, the one that had been tormenting her beyond reason for the entire weekend. Adam had said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but how was he so certain she'd make him happy?

At that moment a seemingly random memory filled Abbie's mind and radiated to every one of her five senses. It was so vivid that she could smell new cut grass and the aroma of coffee drifting from a nearby cafe. She could feel the warm breeze kicking up the ends of her hair and playing with them so that they tickled her cheek. She could hear the sounds of children playing, and then she could see Henry, launching himself into open space from the top-most rung of the monkey bars.

How was Henry so certain that Adam would catch him?

And the answer to that question struck Abbie as violently as a sudden wave knocking her off her feet and rolling her over and over within the rip curl of its enormous power.

Henry's leap hadn't been a leap of certainty; it had been a leap of trust.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Abbie murmured out loud as her hands fluttered around her face like whirling dervishes.

Every man had his limit and surely she'd reached Adam's. It had to be over for good this time. And this time she had no one to blame but herself.

“I've got to find him now,” Abbie whispered breathlessly.

“Who, Abbie?” Sophie asked distractedly. She'd been listening to Justin and hadn't noticed Abbie's rapid spiral into near hysteria next to her.

“I've got to go,” Abbie murmured quickly.

“What? Where to?” Sophie asked in surprise as her friend got to her feet.

“I've got to find Adam.”

“Now?” Sophie asked in bewilderment.

Justin caught sight of Abbie standing up. “Where are you going, Cassius?” he demanded to know, clearly deciding she should go by the name of the Shakespearean villain who'd plotted with Brutus to murder Caesar. It was a barely concealed reference to her role in the potential downfall of his London office. But then he let her know with a wink that he wasn't really serious and was feeling better after making his announcement.

“Actually, Justin,” Abbie said as she began to sidle around the table towards the door. “I really, truly do know who would make a great managing partner for your all-important London office.”

“Is that right?” he asked in fascinated amusement. “And who might that be?”

“Me,” she replied, flashing a bright smile of radiant happiness at him. “But you'll have to excuse me as I need to talk to Adam about it right away—there's not a second to lose.”

With that she rushed out of the conference room and through the corridors of Griffen Murphy Lawyers to the lifts. But it wasn't until she'd reached street level that she was finally able to break into a wild sprint up King Street in the direction of the Supreme Court.

It took her less than a minute to find Adam's trial on the court list. Then it was a matter of barging into a lift behind a dense crowd of robed and wigged barristers, pressing herself back against their bulky frames so that the doors had room to close in front of her.

“I think you're going to take us over the maximum weight level for this lift, Abbie,” George Rogerson commented drily as he alluded to her petite size in comparison to the portly barristers around him.

The other barristers chortled away appreciatively, going on to exchange slights about each other's waistlines. Although Abbie knew a few of them well and would normally have joined in their sparring, she just smiled distractedly. She was far too preoccupied with thinking about what she was going to say to Adam to make things right again.

Finally escaping the lift she was able to make her way to his courtroom. When she pushed open the door she could see that it was empty except for the clients, their legal teams, the judge and her staff. The judge was sitting quietly behind her bench, listening carefully to Adam's barrister make his opening address. Adam was sitting behind him at the solicitors' table, taking notes.

With a small bow to the judge, Abbie walked quietly up to the row of seats behind Adam and sat down next to his clients, her heart thudding painfully in her chest as her eyes drifted over his hunched figure in his dark navy suit. But the problem Abbie then faced was getting his attention, for he was completely focused on the things going on in front of him rather than behind him.

With fingers pointing and hands gesticulating Abbie drew on her best charades skills to let his clients know that she wanted them to get Adam's attention for her; unlike her, they were within reach of him and could easily give him a poke in the back if necessary. But there was clearly a communication breakdown because they were staring at her with blank looks on their faces, at a complete loss as to what she wanted them to do. After thirty seconds or so of unsuccessful miming attempts, Abbie's blood froze in her veins as she heard the judge interrupt Adam's barrister.

“Excuse me, Mr Madden, if I could stop you there,” the judge began in her silken yet frighteningly judicial tone. “I think your instructing solicitor's partner would like to speak to your instructing solicitor. Is that right, Ms McCarthy? I'm finding your facial expressions and hand movements a little distracting.”

“Yes, Your Honour,” Abbie replied, shooting to her feet as Adam swung around to face her, his jaw dropping. “Please excuse me for interrupting.”

“Very well, Ms McCarthy, but I hope you're interrupting my court for something which is either of vital importance to this case or a matter of life or death, and for no other reason.”

“Yes, Your Honour,” Abbie replied, her voice cooler than she'd expected it to be. “If I must choose one of those categories then I would choose the second.”

“This Court gives a very narrow interpretation to life or death, Ms McCarthy. And I must say, both you and Mr Cooper appear to be in rather good health at the present time and nowhere near death's door.”

“We may, or perhaps I should say,
I
may not remain in such fine health for very long if I don't speak to Mr Cooper urgently.”

Justice Murray raised her eyebrows and suppressed a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Mr Madden, can you spare Mr Cooper whilst he attends to this … emergency?”

“Of course, Your Honour,” Mr Madden purred and then added hopefully, “Unless Your Honour thinks it might be an appropriate time for a luncheon adjournment.”

“No, Mr Madden. I'm yet to digest my morning tea. And if you don't make more headway towards the point you're making, I fear it will quickly turn into indigestion. So let's press on without Mr Cooper for a few minutes, shall we?”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” Adam muttered as he got to his feet and followed Abbie out of the Court after bowing towards the bench from the door.

“What on earth is wrong?” he threw at her anxiously when they'd moved away from the door of the court for privacy. “Are the boys okay?”

“Yes, yes, they're fine,” Abbie nodded drinking in the sight of him, because all of a sudden she was looking at the man who she knew with absolute certainty she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, starting that very day.

“Well, what is it? I can't believe you interrupted the Court like that. You're a litigator, Abbie, you should know better. All I can say is that it's lucky for me that Justice Murray clearly likes you.”

“I know, I shouldn't have interrupted you but it couldn't wait. Justin told me, or rather, he told the whole management meeting just now about you wanting to live in Sydney permanently because it's where I want to be.”

Adam stared at her, his thought processes moving at a million miles an hour across his face.

“Justin shouldn't have done that,” he said finally, annoyance underpinning his tone.

“He's worried about the London office, and you know what Justin is like. When he's worried about something, he workshops it.”

“Still, he shouldn't have said anything. Anyway, we both know that my feelings behind that comment are ancient history now.”

Abbie stared at Adam as her mouth fell open.

She was too late. There was too much damage done.

“Why did you tell him that in the first place then?” she asked in a hoarse whisper after managing to find her voice at last.

“Because I loved you, I wanted the four of us to be together, and I knew you couldn't make the move to London.”

“So now what's changed? You don't love me? You don't want us to be together?”

Tears began to roll down Abbie's cheeks as the shock and dismay of final rejection struck her like a body blow.

“Don't cry,” he said gently but firmly. “It's not fair to you or me.”

“I can't help it. I feel as though you and I have been coming in and out of revolving doors for years. We never seem to find each other on the same side of the door at the same time, do we?”

Adam's eyes searched her face, the tension lines around his eyes growing more marked with every passing moment.

“I'm sorry, but sometimes revolving doors are a sign it wasn't meant to be. Between Ellen's death, my commitments and your insecurities about family life, it was just never going to get off the ground. I'll always care for you because you're Henry's mother, and somehow we'll make this work for the boys, but it's over between you and me.”

“It's not over. How can you do this?” she retorted, anger now propelling her disappointment to a whole new level. “How can you tell me one day that you love me and then two days later tell me you feel nothing?”

“It's not that I feel nothing,” he threw back at her in open frustration and despair. “But I'm a realist and you're … you're an emotionalist—and if there's no such word then there should be. That's what's gotten us into trouble all along. I look at choices and I weigh them up. I'm not saying I don't make plenty of mistakes, but I make the most sensible decision I can on the facts and then I set my course. But you, you're raw emotion. You react with your instincts and your heart to every single setback. But it's not just that. You've had your untrustworthy radar pointed at me since the day I walked back into your life. I've done everything I can to make you believe in me, but I'm not going to try and prove myself to you anymore. I can't live like that—it's over.”

“It's not over, Adam,” Abbie railed at him furiously through her tears. “I'll take on the office in London and you can run for politics there. We'll live in your house with the boys and become the family I should have jumped at becoming last Saturday morning.”

“Don't, Abbie. Don't do this. I told you, I can't do the roller coaster ride anymore. The boys deserve more than a roller coaster ride, too.”

“But I need you—more than I've ever needed anyone before. I want to be with you,” Abbie declared stridently, knowing she was fighting for him harder than she'd ever fought for anything or anybody in her whole life. “I've always loved you, from our first night together, and I know you love me.”

“Sometimes love isn't enough,” Adam muttered, looking at her with a mixture of longing and concern. “I've got to go back in now.”

And turning away from her, he walked back towards the court and all the duties and obligations that lay in wait for him—not just beyond that courtroom door, but everywhere he turned in his life.

Adam slipped his key into the lock of his front door, but didn't turn it. Instead he swung around and rested his back against it and then knotted a hand in his hair. All of a sudden he felt he needed to take a few deep breaths before walking into the next stage of his day as a father.

It had been a tough week: morning and afternoon conferences with barristers and clients; full days in court; the showdown with Abbie three days ago. But the worst part of every day had been the bit he was in at that second—the bit when he had to walk through the front door, knowing she wouldn't be on the other side.

Adam sighed in exhaustion. He'd followed the dictates handed down by his head and broken from her once and for all. There was no doubt that his arguments for walking away from her were irrefutable. And yet irrefutable or not, everything felt so incredibly wrong.

All week he'd watched on as a judge and two Senior Counsel did battle with one another like warriors of words. They had the finest legal brains in the country—utterly cerebral, utterly intellectual. No room for any emotion there. As Aristotle had said, ‘law is reason free from passion'. In testament to that, Adam had seen cases won and lost over the placement of a comma in a sentence.

But life was not a court case. Life was not just about reason and logic. As Abbie had told him the same day she'd told him about Henry, life called for more than just reason, duty and expectation. Life called for instincts, passion and feelings too. Yet he'd been stubbornly resisting the call since the day Ellen had died.

Wandering along the front of his terrace, Adam looked through its front windows. In the lighted rooms within he could see Henry and Pete watching television. Mrs Cook, their temporary nanny, was stacking the dishwasher in the kitchen beyond.

He wanted to rap on the window and tell the boys to turn the TV off. Abbie didn't like them watching it midweek; she said it sucked the creativity out of them. But worried that he might frighten the living daylights out of Mrs Cook he kept his knuckles to himself and made his way back to the front door.