I nodded, trying not to smile. “Yes he does.” Thank God.

“There you go.”

Our conversation drifted to safer places—clothes, movies, her sister’s upcoming wedding and the cute guy who’d just started in the mailroom. I looked at my watch regretfully, knowing I still had a mountain of paperwork waiting for me.

“Come on. I have to get back to work.”

We stood up and found a bin for our sushi boxes.

“I’ll walk you back to your desk.” She winked and elbowed me in the side.

Much to Sia’s disappointment, Heath was on the phone when we got back, but she made several excuses to visit my desk throughout the afternoon as always.

“Here’s the client list,” Heath said, dropping a spreadsheet on my desk towards the end of the day.

“I’ll ensure they all have sufficient funding. Then I’ll send out the paperwork.”

“Good work, Juliette.”

I was a hard worker, good with clients, had a sharp attention to detail, and because I had no career aspirations to be a stockbroker myself, Heath thought he’d hit the jackpot.

Chapter Three

Juliette

It was Thursday evening, and that meant it was time for my weekly boxing session with Zac.

During my first year at uni, I had been walking back to my car after an evening class when I was grabbed and pushed up against a brick wall. In my mind, I’d had the man writhing on the ground, clutching his crotch and contemplating his threatened chances of fatherhood. I’d wanted desperately to hear him cursing me with every profanity his tiny brain contained. I hadn’t been as afraid as I probably should’ve been, despite my inability to defend myself. From somewhere deep inside my reptilian brain, my mind had conjured up the many different ways I could incapacitate and maim anyone who tried their luck with me.

In reality, a security guard had saved me and my attacker was arrested. I’d gotten really lucky. Last I heard, he was still serving jail time for multiple sex offences. I’d joined the gym the next day so if it ever happened again, I’d be better prepared. That was six years ago.

What had started out as learning self-defence had quickly exploded into a full-on love affair with fighting. My mother and Richard would be completely horrified and humiliated, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Zac stood over me as I did my stretches. “Hey, Jules. You alright?” he asked in his cute English accent. His background before becoming a boxer was a combination of European kickboxing and Asian Muay Thai. He was now a passionate trainer, and he wanted me to compete. From time to time, he’d teach me a little of the other styles—a blend of kicks, knees, punches, elbows and grappling were all incorporated to vary my training. He was an exceptional instructor because of his ability to help me understand the techniques, rather than just going through the motions.

“I’m okay. Thanks, Zac.” I jumped up and did a final stretch with my arms over my head. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s do this.”

For the next hour, Zac pushed my body to the absolute limit, and then he pushed some more. By the end, I was dripping with sweat and high on endorphins. For the first half hour, we worked on technique and endurance. The second half we sparred. I’d never come close to beating Zac, but he was an ex amateur boxing champion, so it wasn’t likely that would ever happen. He could’ve gone pro, but he sustained a terrible head injury trying to spar with the much bigger heavyweights without a head guard at a training session. He would often tell me his arrogance nearly cost him his life. He was very fortunate, but doctors advised him any further heavy impacts could give him permanent brain damage.

“You’re a star, Jules,” Zac praised, looking down to me collapsed on the mat. “You’ll get me next time.”

It was the same thing he said at the end of every session, and it made me smile every time. He was a really good guy. I’d introduced him to Sia’s sister, Juniper, a year ago. They got engaged soon after and were getting married in June.

“Hey, Jules. I got a call from the promoter of a gym out in Lilydale last night.”

I looked up at him and wiped my arm across my forehead. “Oh yeah? What did he have to say?”

“He’s looking for female boxers for an amateur night he’s got planned in a couple of months’ time.” A goofy grin spread across his face. “I might’ve mentioned you.”

I bit my bottom lip, unsure what to think. I’d always said no when this had come up before, but Lilydale was well outside Melbourne, so I was unlikely run into anyone I knew.

A shiver ran down my spine and excitement bloomed in my belly. “Okay. Sign me up.”

“Really? That’s awesome, Jules. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

***

Despite insisting I was more than capable of getting home by myself and he should meet me there, Richard met me outside the gym every Thursday evening. He really was chivalrous, and I tried to appreciate that about him. He thought I did aerobics classes at the gym, so I wasn’t going to point out what I actually did with Zac. He and my mother got along famously and it would no doubt come up in conversation. ‘Fighting is not an appropriate activity for a lady,’ she would say with disdain. If they knew I was training for a boxing match, they’d have a conniption.

Halfway across the Yarra Footbridge, Richard stopped.

“Hey. Look at these, babe.” He was pointing to a large quantity of padlocks clipped to the bridge railings.

“They’re love locks,” I informed him.

He lifted a couple of them and read out the names.

“I noticed them a few months ago and did some research.” I remembered how romantic I’d thought it was, even if I couldn’t personally relate to the concept of unbreakable love. “Apparently, it began in Rome around the turn of the century, inspired by characters in a cult Italian novel. I can’t remember the name of it. Anyway, couples in love would inscribe their names on the padlock, clip it to the Ponte Milvio, then throw the keys in the Tiber.”

“Well, it can’t be good for the bridge. They’ll rust and damage it,” Richard said, dropping the padlocks and letting them swing. “I’m surprised the authorities don’t remove them.”

I knew that would be Richard’s reaction, but it still made me feel desperately disappointed for reasons I tried to push away.

Peering over the railings, I watched the dark water flow freely beneath me. The pale silt swirled around, hypnotising me with its chaotic patterns. I closed my eyes and imagined myself leaping over the edge and plummeting into the water below. I was fully submerged, and instead of swimming back to the top, I would allow my body to sink slowly towards the muddy riverbed, my lungs screaming for the air they craved. The rush made me smile—a secret smile just for me.

“I’m starving,” Richard mumbled. “Let’s go.”

“I Want You,” I declared suddenly.

“Really? Didn’t we already do that this week?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” I rolled my eyes. “I just remembered the name of the book that inspired the love locks in Rome. It’s I Want you by the Italian author Federico Moccia.”

“Oh. Right.” He started walking away, leaving me standing there.

When I caught up, Richard didn’t reach for my hand. When my mother had been trying to set us up, he had been quite romantic, charming, handsome and persistent. According to her, he had all the right breeding and social etiquette, not to mention the fact that he kissed her butt at any available opportunity. I wanted to feel something more for him.

When I’d told my mother I would go on a date with him, she looked happier than she had in a really long time. I liked seeing her happy, and it didn’t seem like a giant sacrifice to stay with him for her sake. I did my very best to be the perfect girlfriend, but my happy façade was cracking over time, and one of these days, I was sure they were going to notice.