awkward silence in there. But somehow it had happened. His tone had been too sharp, too quick.
He didn’t know what to say next and he definitely didn’t want to delve too deeply into the dark side and deflate her high, so he gripped her hand and steered her into an Asian fusion restaurant overlooking the millionaires’ yachts in the Viaduct harbour.
The lights from the buildings reflected in the dark water, giving the place an eerie glow. Bittersweet memories dallied with his heartstrings. This was the last place he’d seen his parents, so it was kind of spooky and special in equal measure. ‘Wine? Mojito?’
‘For a non-date, you’re trying pretty hard to woo me.’ She cast him a sarcastic smile. ‘Lemonade, please.’
He ignored the jibe. Some called it wooing, he called it trying to be friendly. ‘You sure you don’t want a mojito?’
‘No. I’ve got a bit of residual stomach griping from that vomiting bug.’ Swiping her hand across her abdomen, she smiled. ‘No biggie.’
‘Yeah, it hit everyone hard. Took some of my interns weeks to get over it, or so they said. I thought they were just yanking my string.’ Underneath those rosy cheeks he saw shadows. ‘You okay, though?’
‘Fine.’ And now she looked embarrassed to be talking about herself like that.
He took her to a table, ordered the drinks and let the subject drop. ‘So what about you, Gabby? You trained in Wellington?’
‘Yes. It was a bit of a hike, travelling in every day, but I didn’t want to leave Mum and Nonna to do all the work at home.’
‘And yet here you are.’
‘I know. The black sheep.’ She blushed. He got the feeling she was picking her words carefully. This was obviously difficult territory for her. ‘I still feel bad, but I just had to leave. I couldn’t bear it anymore.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh...’ Again she seemed cagey and unsure but also like it was a relief to let it out. ‘My mum and I haven’t got on for years, but I stayed for Nonna. Because of Nonna. When she died a few months ago I decided it was time to start fresh somewhere else. So I chose here.’ Her words tumbled out in a stream and he was grateful she’d chosen him to confide in. More than grateful, especially when he knew he’d struggle to do the same with her—with anyone.
When he looked deeper into her eyes he saw a flicker of trust there—tiny and wavering, but there. For a moment he didn’t know if he could bear that responsibility when he couldn’t give it back. Something in his chest constricted but he directed his focus on her. This was about Gabby. Not him. ‘Was your mum happy about that?’
‘My mum is generally not happy about anything I do.’ She laughed, but it wasn’t forced, more like she accepted her lot. ‘She’s not a coper, and relied on me and Nonna for way too much. But I decided she needed to learn how to stand on her own two feet. Actually, I decided to be the adult, so I enlisted some cheap labour to help her out and then I came here. So let’s just say I left under a cloud. But it’s nothing new. I had a lot of those growing up.’
‘Why?’
‘Lots of reasons—I was a surprise, not a happy one. Then I was the great hope. Mum was a single parent. We had little cash. I was...’ she raised her eyebrows '...destined for great things. Mum and Nonna pegged me to be a doctor and buy them out of their financial mess. It’s safe to say I let them down.’
‘Being a nurse isn’t a let-down.’ Although the pain behind her eyes told him there was something she wasn’t telling him. Something deep that still hurt now. Had she failed her exams? Had she not been cut out for it? Had she plain not wanted to be a doctor? ‘Believe me, I know it’s hard to carry the hopes of those around with you. Never quite meeting expectations, always feeling that you’d failed.’ He knew all about not being good enough. No wonder they shared a connection.
‘Not being a doctor is more than a let-down in their eyes. My having an independent mind and spirit never sat easily with them. I was raised to do what I was told and be a good girl. Or else...’ She toyed with her silver necklace, ran her fingers over the diamond locket. ‘Okay, spotlight back on Max.’
‘Ugh.’ He took a drink. ‘You