Nick dumped everything he was carrying on the deck, lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and narrowed his eyes as he inspected the damage. ‘Frequently.’
‘If I’d swallowed my pride and accepted the money you offered me,’ I said, adding the drill and the screwdriver to the pile, ‘I would probably have finished my studies. I might have pursued a career in marine conservation and already have achieved everything I want to for the turtles.’
‘You wouldn’t have had to live in a flat share and survive on soup.’
‘True,’ I said with a tilt of the head. ‘But I’d still have resented you for it, I suspect. And it’s not been so bad really. I’ve lived the last eight years on my own terms and I know I can rely on myself and there’s value in that.’
Nick picked up a plank and a hammer and handed me a box of nails. ‘You can rely on me.’
Could I? Who knew? As the terms and conditions of our contract stated, past performance was no guarantee of future results. ‘I prefer not to.’
‘I know.’ He lifted the plank into the space where one was missing and gestured to me to hold up one end of it. ‘It’s disappointing.’
I held out the box of nails and he extracted two. ‘It’s nothing personal.’
‘It feels pretty personal.’
An incomprehensible surge of shame and regret swept through me then, but I pushed it back down because there was no reason to feel either. ‘So what would you have done differently in this parallel universe I’m imagining?’
‘I’d have let your comments that afternoon at your pool slide,’ he said, banging in the nails and reaching out for more, which I duly furnished him with. ‘We’d have ended up in bed a whole lot sooner than yesterday and wasted a lot less time.’
‘But it would still have been just sex and it still wouldn’t have lasted.’
‘It would have lasted a damn sight longer than the couple of days you’ve set aside for it, trust me.’
‘But you see, that’s exactly the problem.’
Nick paused, hammer aloft, and looked at me quizzically. ‘What is?’
‘Trust.’
He frowned. ‘You said you trusted me.’
I stared at him. ‘When?’
‘Yesterday. When I asked you if you thought it was me who leaked your news to the press.’
Ah. ‘I said I trusted you with my money.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘And that’s it?’
I nodded. ‘That’s it. I don’t trust anyone. I want to, somehow, but I can’t. It’s simply too ingrained. An impossible habit to break, if you like.’
‘Stemming from everyone abandoning you at a time you needed them most?’
‘Quite.’
‘That’s understandable,’ he said, and stood back to admire his handiwork. ‘But I disagree about it being an impossible habit to break. Trust is a choice.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ I said, annoyed at the way he was so casually brushing aside something that I felt so deeply. ‘You haven’t been let down by virtually everyone who’s supposed to be on your side.’
‘I’m on your side and I haven’t let you down.’
‘It would only be a matter of time.’
He turned to me, the intensity in his gaze nearly taking out my knees. ‘Do you really believe that?’
‘Yes. Why?’