Page 72 of The Soulmate

‘He’s myhusband,’ I say softly. A pathetic response, I know, but the only one I have.

Kat stands suddenly. ‘Fine. But I can’t support you anymore. Not when you keep acting so damn stupid.’ She opens the bedroom door.

‘What if it was Mei?’ I yell after her. ‘Would you stay with her? Support her?’

Kat pauses in the doorway. Suddenly she doesn’t look angry anymore. She looks tired.

‘I’d want to,’ she says. ‘But she would never let me.’

68

PIPPA

THEN

Max Cameron was waiting for me by the automatic doors in the reception area of the huge skyscraper that housed his media empire, NewZ. It was late, and apart from the security at the front desk the foyer was deserted.

‘Pippa,’ he said, when he’d let me in. ‘It’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.’

He was dressed in a dinner suit, minus the jacket. I felt embarrassed to realise he must have left an event to meet me. I also felt flattered.

‘Thank you for meeting me.’

‘Why don’t you come up to my office and we can make a plan?’ Max said. ‘If Gabe shows up, security will ring me immediately. I also have my personal security detail driving around the neighbourhood, on the lookout. In the meantime, if you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to understand better what has been going on with him.’

I noticed a slight slur to Max’s voice and wondered if he’d been drinking when I interrupted him tonight. Even so, he was reassuring. He had his personal security looking for Gabe? It made me wonder why I hadn’t called him earlier.

‘You saw Gabe tonight?’ Max asked, as we took the elevator to the thirty-fourth floor.

‘Yes. An hour or so ago. He seemed pretty . . . I don’t know. Drunk? Out of it?’

Max nodded. He didn’t seem surprised.

‘Was he like that at work today?’

The doors slid open and we exited the elevator. ‘I didn’t see him today. But according to reports, yes, he was in a bad way. I have to say, I’m worried about him, Pippa.’

‘He’s been working hard lately,’ I said, my instinct to play down his behaviour so deeply ingrained I couldn’t help it. ‘He might be a bit burned out. Maybe he blew off some steam, had a few drinks.’

Max watched me for a moment. I got the sense that he wasn’t buying my excuse for Gabe’s behaviour. In a way, I was glad.

‘I want to show you something,’ he said, leading me down the hallway. We stopped outside a large boardroom. The wall was glass, and I could see without entering that it had been vandalised. Chairs were strewn around the floor. There was a giant dent in the wall. The pieces of a conference phone were scattered across the large oak table.

It took me a moment to understand why he was showing me.

‘Oh my God,’ I said, as realisation dawned. ‘Gabedid this?’

Max nodded. He didn’t need to say anything else after that. It was true that sometimes a picture was worth a thousand words. I saw the damage to the wall and recalled Gabe’s bloodied hand. My own hand went to my mouth.

Max touched my shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s talk in my office.’

He led me into a huge corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows, polished concrete floors and an enormous L-shaped desk. In ordinary circumstances I would have been impressed, but tonight it barely registered. All I could think about was Gabe. My husband was seriously unwell. I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t defend it or make excuses. I couldn’t do anything . . . I didn’t even know where he was.

We sat in armchairs in front of a glass coffee table.

‘Do you think he might have gone out with some colleagues?’ I asked. ‘He often goes out drinking with them when they’re working on a project.’

A strange look crossed Max’s face. ‘Pippa, you do know that Gabe doesn’t work here anymore?’