On top of Libby exposing Leo’s parentage to the town’s scrutiny, actively encouraging their friends to exclude Jess, and the vitriolic letter stripping her of the title and role of godmother to Indi and Lucy—who she loved like daughters—did she think Jess would just roll over and agree to the limited and unsatisfactory access arrangements? Did her former best friend think that because she decreed it, everyone would fall into line?
“Stuff this.” She dialed Libby’s number. She might have been blocked, meaning her texts were never delivered or her calls answered, but she could still leave voicemail.
“You told me you don’t want to have anything to do with Nick’s son. That means you gave up your right to dictate terms. Nick and I decide what’s best for Leo.”
Nick and I ...
Jess’s twenty-second summer had been a watershed. Libby was in Peru doing an elective as part of her medical degree. Without her company in the bay, Jess had planned to stay in Melbourne during her enforced work break between Christmas and New Year. Her mother had other ideas.
“I’m the only family you’ve got. You’d be a cruel bitch if you let your mother spend Christmas on her own.” Linda’s sharp words burned down the line before changing to wheedling. “I’ve already got the fruit soaking for the plum pudding.”
It was an annual tradition for Linda to soak the fruit in a cup of brandy and herself in the rest of the bottle. Over the years, Jess had thrown the fruit out after Christmas more times than a pudding had ever been made. As she listened to her mother, Jess glanced at the tiny live Christmas tree in a pot and the beautifully wrapped gift Libby had left underneath it with the instructions, “Don’t open it until Christmas morning.” The house suddenly seemed quiet and empty, as it would be on December 25th.
“Come home,” Linda said. “It’ll be nice. I miss you.”
And just like that, Jess made the long drive back to Kurnai Bay.
Her mother managed to excel herself that year. She was sozzled by noon and incapable of eating the lunch Jess had prepared. Furious at Linda, and at herself for believing things might be different this year, Jess avoided her mother as much as possible for the rest of the vacation, spending her days on the beach and her nights at the usual shack parties. While she waited for Nick to show, she fended off the usual suspects of drunk blokes, some of whom had more reason to hope than others. Nick didn’t turn up to any of the parties.
When New Year’s Eve tipped into New Year’s Day—an assignation they’d shared enough times for her to consider it a tradition—and Nick still hadn’t made an appearance, she finally cracked and asked Trent Fallon, “Where’s Pirelli these days?”
“He was only ever playing at slumming it with us. These days he’s drinking the good stuff with the other rich kids at the yacht club.”
The next day, Jess visited the pier at various times until she ran into Nick. Dressed in the Pirelli summer uniform of navy polo shirt, white shorts and boat shoes, nothing about him showed even a hint of the good-time boy she’d known and enjoyed. His stance stated he owned the pier, the fleet and the respect of the town. His g’day was polite but restrained, his gaze just off-center. Clearly, he was uncomfortable talking to her.
Memories assaulted her. The two of them laughing together. Her sitting on his lap at parties, his arm flung casually around her waist. The time he said it was her “no bullshit, take-charge attitude” he found as sexy as hell.
Now he couldn’t bear to look at her, but it was his embarrassment that slashed and scarred her heart. Made her feel dirty. That night she got drunk for the first time in a long time. It was Will Azzopardi who took her home, held back her hair while she puked, then plied her with water. It was her reflection in the mirror the following morning—a young version of Linda before the ravages of alcohol had wrought their worst—and her mother’s tart comment about being a drunk slut that had shocked her out of her pity party.
She realized Nick was returning to his roots and answering the call of the preceding generations of Pirellis, who lived by the rules of society—hard-working, law-abiding, honorable citizens who put family first. Everything Linda had failed at. Now Nick associated Jess with partying hard, recreational drugs and questionable choices. Not only did he want to leave all that far behind him, he wanted to forget.
The devastating irony was that, in so many ways, Jess had left her white trash life far behind, qualifying as an accountant and securing a well-paying job. She only dropped into the old crowd and the parties when she visited the bay so she could see Nick. But if Jess wanted him, she needed to show him she’d left that life far behind too and that she belonged in his world. But how? Linda’s legacy of being thrown out of almost every venue in town meant Jess never received a warm welcome unless she attended with Libby.
Her gut churned at the idea of involving Libby and her WASP respectability to get close to Nick. Every survival instinct told her not to introduce them. No, there had to be another way to ooze into Nick’s world.
When Will called in later that morning to see how she was feeling, his visit and solicitude took her completely by surprise. She’d only met him a couple of times—he’d moved to the bay since she’d left—but if his actions were anything to go by he was a decent enough bloke. Embarrassed that he’d seen her heave her stomach contents into
