“Please stop messaging me,” I say calmly. Kristy snaps to look at Martin, who is watching me with sad eyes.
“I just want you to know that I am sorry,” he says as Kristy palms his upper arm. I don’t pay her any attention.
“I’m not.” I give them a genuine smile. “Take care.” I stride off and find my smile stretching. It has absolutely everything to do with my gorgeous boss.
I feel lighter for coming face-to-face with them, liberated even. I smile as I pull into my parents’ driveway. The two-storey family home sits nestled in a cul-de-sac, and the weeping willow with rope swing still guards the front lawn.
A small ding has me rummaging for my phone. I expect Martin or Kristy, but it’s worse.
I do hope you don’t plan on staying long?
Just visiting. I will be gone before dark.
Make sure that you are.
My eyes water slightly as I read over the messages. They may be from an unknown number, but I know who is on the other end: Henrik. He and his family have run this town for a long time, ever since they developed the country club and moved into a gated house up on the hill—where the money lives and where he can be lord surveyor, watching over his town. He has gained complete rule. I was too young to watch it happen, and I knew no different or nothing of his callousness. In some ways, I'm glad I was able to escape the life I thought I would have had if I had married his son. I’d been ecstatic when I told Kristy of our engagement. Now, I know why she wasn’t overly pleased for me.
Kristy can enjoy his wrath. He can’t blackmail me forever.
Hearing my car, my mother comes to the front door and waves happily. She is a slight thing with a white pixie cut and big brown eyes. She wipes her hands on her apron as I get out of my car. “Hey, Mum.”
“Oh, Lauren, love. Let me get a look at you. How’s your head?”
“Mum, it's fine.” I laugh. She meets me at the bottom of the path with a tea towel in hand and a bright smile on her face. I lift my fringe. “See.” I show my very normal-looking forehead.
“We were worried about you, Lauren.” Her concerned eyes search mine. She means my breakup too.
“No need. I'm fine.” I lean back in my car and pick up my bag. “How's Dad?”
“He’s inside.” My mum leads the way. “Robert, Lauren’s here!”
“James not here yet?” I check for his car in case I missed it.
“Running late.”
Once inside, I find my dad with his glasses on, watching the football, a beer at the ready, and a discarded crossword to his left.
“Hey, Dad!” I smile, approaching him, and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Who’s winning?”
“Would you even know the teams if I told you?” He twists, looking at me over his glasses.
“Well… erm… no.” I laugh.
My dad pushes himself up from the chair. “Let me get a look at you. Your mother said you had an accident?”
“I walked into an opening door. I was taken to hospital with a very minor concussion. I feel fine now,” I rush to say when his eyes widen in worry.
“Lauren, why on earth wouldn’t you call us?” My dad’s angry tone shakes through the house. “And if not you, then your boss or a friend should have informed us.”
“If it had been any worse, they would have, but honestly, it was fine.”
My mum pops her head around the door. “Drink, Lauren?”
“Please, can I have some tea?”
“So, Dad. How's golfing going?” I change the subject, eager to move on from my bump.
“I don’t like the instructor,” he mutters.