Marshall (Mayfair Model Series Book 1)

by Claire Castle

  “Can we stay here forever?” he said, obviously thinking the same as me.

  I leaned up to kiss him but didn’t answer. It was too frightening to think about it. The future. What if he was never ready to tell the world? Would I just continue to meet him in secret? And yet, I would never force anyone to come out before they were ready.

  Eventually, sleep came for me.

  The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee. Feeling the bed beside me, it was still warm, but empty. Strange. I listened and heard banging around in the kitchen. Fuck. Maybe he’d had another unwanted visitor. I decided not to go out in case I walked into something I wasn’t invited to.

  And I waited. There were no voices, so I thought, fuck it. Let the cards fall where they may. Out in the kitchen I saw Marshall’s bag by the door and took him in, dressed perfectly in a tailored suit. Jess sat at his feet.

  “Uh, hey, Marshall. What’s going on? I thought we were going to leave this afternoon.” Worrying that he regretted yesterday and last night, I realized I was becoming a nervous wreck over everything now, doubting everything, which was so unlike me. And in some ways, I hated it. But I’d give him a chance to explain.

  He came over and gave me a peck on the cheek. Completely cold and as if he was at a work event. “Change of plans. You stay as long as you want though. I’m sorry but I have to go to a casting call, you see. Can you get a taxi back, or Jamieson maybe?”

  “What?” I stomped over to him. “A taxi? That would cost five hundred quid.”

  He put a cup of coffee in my hand, as if trying to distract me, or thinking that would be sufficient. “I’ll add it to your pay. I’ll make sure of it, if that’s an issue.” He shrugged and spun on his heel.

  Just as he bent to pick up Jess in the travel container, I grabbed the elbow of his perfectly-pressed suit. “Marshall.” Meeting his eyes but trying not to beg, I said quietly, “Uh, leave Jess then if you want. Go straight to the airport. We’ll keep each other company.” I shrugged my shoulders. Secretly, I hoped he’d take me in his arms and say fuck it all and stay, but that was a stupid thought.

  “Thanks, Stu, okay.” He sighed, put down the carrier, and walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said to Jess, my words seeming to echo through the house. I slammed my fist into the wall and quickly regretted it. “Dammit.” Slowly I dragged myself back to the bedroom. I didn’t even know the fucking address here. Maybe he had it written down somewhere.

  I grabbed my phone and sat down on the edge of the bed. I dialled Jamieson, and as it rang out, I realized he was on a flight heading back to London. Fuck. Then I called Damien. His voice sounded like someone who had smoked for fifty years.

  “If I didn’t get you pregnant, please hang up and try your call again,” I heard over the line.

  “Damien, it’s Stuart.” Then I chuckled. “And I’m not hanging up. Or calling you ‘Daddy.’”

  There was rustling in the background and then he cleared his throat. “Hey, what do you need.”

  By god, I did love him. “Can you come pick me up? Sorry to spring this on you. I can’t tell you much either”—I paused—“okay?”

  “Sure. Just give me the address and I’m there.” I looked through the drawers as he kept talking.

  “Okay, two minutes.” On the fridge, there was a business card. “Ah, it’s 93 Holly Lane, York. Shit. Sorry, is that too far?” My voice quivered. What an idiot I was becoming.

  “No, give me a couple of hours. It’s fine.”

  “Thanks.” I made coffee and paced. I checked my phone about twenty-million times, but still nothing from Marshall. What did I expect though? I was a fling. An afterthought. A secondary thought, if it fit his precious schedule. Why did I expect I was anything different?

  I sighed and sat down with Jess. “How long has your dad been an idiot for?” I rubbed her head. “No, wait, don’t answer that one.” I showered and got changed and much as he was a big grump, I missed him. When had I become that person? I absently wondered.

  As soon as I heard car tires come up the drive, for a split second, I hoped it was Marshall returning, but no, it was Damien in his ‘67 Mini. While Damien could be a mother hen, I had decided to keep as close to the truth as possible.

  Plastering a fake smile on my face, I raced outside with my stuff and Jess and realized I couldn’t lock the place. Oh, well, he could deal. No, I wouldn’t be an asshole. I hugged Damien and put my stuff and Jess in the car.

  Trying to sound normal, I dialled Marshall, praying he’d pick up. “Hello,” he answered, sounding professional and distant.

  “Right, ah, it’s Stuart, the dog walker. How do I lock this place up for you?”

  “See the red planter under the window? There’s a key there.” He let out a breath. “Thanks.”

  I hung up before I started to say something ridiculous; instead, I grabbed the key, locked up, placed it back under the planter, and got in the car. “Thanks, man. I owe ya one.”

  He rubbed my neck. “You’d do the same for me. Don’t worry. Who’s the lucky man? And why isn’t he bringing you home?”

  “You look rough,” I elbowed him.

  “Hey, I can let you out at the side of the road, you know.” He laughed out loud and Jess barked. “And don’t change the subject.”

  “Well, you know, a client needed his dog picked up.” I raised my hands up and smiled. “And so I aim to please.”

  He glanced at me before starting the car. “Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it. But I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell all. And I mean all.”

  Smiling, I leaned on his shoulder. “Thanks.” The rest of the way home went in mainly silence. Both of us obviously lost in our own thoughts. “Hey, thanks again. You have a good night last night?”

  “Fabulous, darling. As always. I sang my heart out.”

  I thanked Damien profusely when he dropped off me and Jess, and then I checked my phone, but there was nothing. Why was he such a jerk. I sighed. I had no idea what I was doing. Really, I needed to talk to Jamieson. He somehow knew what to say to me, though he had no idea what he was doing with his own love life. I laughed to myself. Like I had any more of an idea.

  Curling up in front of the television with a blanket and Jess in my arms, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself. No, I just had an extra day to be alone. That was good, right? Except I hated not being busy.

  “Well, Jess, whatcha wanna do?” I asked, pressing her cold nose to mine. “I had planned to spend the day in bed with your dad, but he’s gone. Where? I do not know.”

  We must have dozed off and then Jamieson bustled in with a stunning man in tow and his hands all over him. I didn’t know what to make of that. “Ah, oh, Stuart, I thought you’d still be away with Grumpy.”

  He tried to hide the man behind him but not very well. Then he ran over to me. “Hey, are you okay?”

  I nodded, not really feeling it and went back to petting Jess. I guess I wasn’t paying too much attention because, suddenly, Jamieson had shoved the man out the door.

  “Spill,” he said, handing me a spoon and the tub of ice cream.

  I took it from him and started eating. “Well, I went away for the weekend with him, and then this morning, he just gets up and leaves. We had a moment, Jamieson, more than one moment.” I glanced at him and went back to the ice cream. It was easier to talk this way. “It was really fantastic. Us and Jess. Everything just clicked. Then this morning, he leaves. Just takes off. Says he has a casting call. Fuck, I don’t ask a lot, but really?” I laughed. “I need your advice again it seems. And who was the hottie there?”

  He avoided my question and lifted my legs to sit under them beside us on the couch. “Well, that was kind of an asshole move, but he’s not used to it. I see the way Marshall looks at you. He obviously hasn’t had more than fucking in dark clubs. He hasn’t had to think of anyone but himself, you know. Has he called since?”

&
nbsp; I screwed up my face, making my brows move closer together. “I don’t know. I haven’t checked my phone,” I tried to say with a straight face.

  “Oh, yeah, sure. You are so far gone with him. It’s not just him.” He proceeded to eat the hugest spoonful of ice cream I’d ever witnessed before continuing, “Give him another chance, can you?”

  I sighed and already knew I would. “I don’t do this though.” Speaking out loud seemed to help. “I don’t wait around for some barely sufferable guy. What am I doing? I used to be so carefree.”

  He moved the ice cream out of Jess’s reach and pulled me into a hug. “He’s worth it to you, right?”

  “I thought so. Well, maybe. But to treat me like that? Why should I just let that happen. The best time together is ruined now.”

  He hugged me. “No, listen, don’t say that. Don’t ask me how I know. Maybe a story for another time, but really, remember the good times. I once had that special someone. He’s gone now, but I won’t forget the cherished moments.”

  “Ugh, I’m just so mad at him right now.”

  He reached over and moved my head as if I were nodding on my own. “But he’s worth it, agreed?”

  I nodded on my own then and let out a gasp. “Thanks, Jamieson. You’re the best.”

  He stood up quickly then. “You know what you need? A night out.”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No, really, I don’t.”

  Obviously ignoring my incoherent mumblings, he tried to pull me up off the couch. I tried to resist but he was stronger than me. “Yes, there’s no choice in the matter. We’ll go see Damien and hang out. While it might have sounded like I asked a question, it really wasn’t.”

  I guess I didn’t really resist much because there I was sitting at the bar while Damien sang his heart out. The same bar where I’d first noticed Marshall and stamped over to his table. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me as I sipped my drink. Pulled out of my reverie, I turned away from the bar towards Damien—Dame Onyx. She must have come right off the stage and over to see me. She placed her hands on either side of my arms. “Now darling, Jamieson said you’ve been down in the dumps, and I won’t accept that.”

  “But … Well, it’s complicated …” I started to say. Then I leaned into her heaving bosom and sobbed a little. I could feel her stroking my hair. Somehow it made me feel better. I made a blubbering noise and then sat back up on the stool, wiping my eyes with the corner of my sleeve.

  “Darling, I’m here for you if you need me, however you need me, but no tears and snuffles. And you know why?”

  I looked up, imploringly, expecting to be greeted by some deep and meaningful message.

  “Because then you’ll set me off,” she said dramatically, waving her arms around. “You know how I can’t see anyone cry. I’ll cry, and it will ruin my makeup.” She precariously made her way behind the bar. “Now, I’ll make you my special concoction, then I’ll go and get changed and come back out”—she looked directly at me—“to listen or not. Whatever you want.” She pushed something towards me that smelled like cranberry and lime, then scurried away.

  Jamieson reappeared, well, I couldn’t be sure how long he’d been away, or where he’d been, but the smirk on his face and his debauched state of partial undress didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  “Um, hey,” I started. I don’t know why I found it so hard to broach the subject with him. It wasn’t. I just never felt the time was right to say “hey, so are you trying out all of London before you settle on someone?” He was an adult after all. And I’d had my fair share of men.

  “Thanks for listening before,” I said, raising my glass to him. He came to sit beside me, nudging me.

  “Aren’t you glad we came out?” If the grin on his face was anything to go by, he sure was.

  “Well”—I couldn’t be bothered to argue much, so I put on a fake smile—“the drinks are good.”

  He laughed. “What? Not my company? Or Damien’s. Speak of the devil.” He waved and I looked over to see Damien walk towards us with tight-fitting jeans and a t-shirt. He was one fine specimen of a man, I’d give him that. He and Jamieson were leaning in close across the bar and acting very chummy. Strange. I wasn’t jealous of them or anything like that—far from it. I just wasn’t aware. I thought I was the glue that held this group together. I chuckled to myself.

  “There you go. I heard that chuckle.” Damien untangled himself from Jamieson and came over. “That’s better. How do you like my concoction? I call it Flaming Fabulous.”

  I was glad for not having to think about Marshall and tried to get back to my usual self. “Delicious. In fact, pour me another.” I pulled my phone out to take a peek, but of course, nothing. I started thinking back to my usual visits here, picking up a hot man for a night of fucking. I contemplated doing that again, for about a split second, but I couldn’t. I slammed my hand on the bar top in a rare show of frustration.

  Pushing my hands through my hair, I took a deep breath. No, this was not me. I would not let him make me an emotional wreck of what ifs and doubts. I stood up briskly. “Let’s get on the dance floor, guys.” I looked over at Jamieson and Damien, motioning that they join me.

  We weaved our way into the middle of the crowd of sweaty, grinding bodies. Usually this would be my stomping ground, a turn on. I tried to enjoy the pounding music, to let my body go and move with the pulsating beat. I closed my eyes and shook my hips.

  This lasted for a few minutes, but I just couldn’t get into it. I was pissed. Pissed off with myself that I was letting him get to me. I pushed my hands in my back pockets, ready to go sit at the bar again. Opening my eyes, I had to blink to take in what I was seeing. Jamieson and Damien gyrating on the dance floor and obviously checking each other’s tonsils out. What the fuck? I must be living in an alternate universe where I wasn’t me, and Jamieson and Damien were making out?

  Brushing past people, I pushed back to the bar and caught the bartender’s attention to order a drink. I didn’t even care what it was at this point. Alcohol was the only requirement. I just wanted to go home and hide under the covers. I suppose I could. Jamieson would hardly notice. Same with Damien.

  Sighing, I rubbed my thumb around the rim of the glass, alone with my thoughts. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked it again. Radio silence. Letting out a sigh, I realized I better get back to Jess—yeah, I really needed that to convince myself. She was perfectly happy in her bed at my place, cozy in the spare bedroom.

  Staring into space, I sensed someone close. Too close. What the fuck? Then there were hands over my eyes. “Very funny, Jamieson. Don’t you need to get back to making out with everyone in the club?” I snapped, I knew it. That was so unlike me. Fuck, I was becoming Marshall—moody and snappy. No, I wouldn’t let that happen. Although there was no answer from him and the music was pounding around me, I had a strange sense of calm, even with the darkness and unknowing. Then, he bent over and bit my ear lightly.

  I spun around, not quite believing it. My gaze met Marshall’s vibrant eyes. He looked in rough shape but still delectable. I wanted to rub against his stubble and then do a whole lot more right on the dance floor. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Oh, hey. So, you’ll just have to wait to go home and get Jess. I’m here with my friends.” I bit my lip. Since when was I such an asshole. But I was still pissed with how he’d left me out at the cottage.

  “Baby,” he moved in closer, crowding me. “Don’t be like this. Come on.” He pushed his hand through his hair, his eyes darting side to side, nervously. “Can we get out of here?” He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

  I signalled to the bartender to bring another drink. “No, actually we can’t, Marshall.” When he brought it over, I took a sip before continuing, “You treated me like crap before, and I won’t take it. Even if you’d told me they wanted you to work and we discussed it, it might have been better. But to just leave me there and take off
? What am I to you?”

  His brows creased and he looked around. “I-I’m …” He couldn’t get any words out. I ordered him a drink and told the bartender where we’d be, and then I dragged him by the wrist to the exact booth he’d been at when I saw him staring at me.

  “No, really, Marshall. Please talk. I need you to—even if it’s difficult. I can wait, but if we’re going to continue, I won’t take being treated that way. Did you know I had to get my friend to drive all the way out there to pick up me and Jess?”

  He didn’t answer, instead he looked deep in thought. Thirty minutes must have passed, but I just continued to sip my drink while he’d done the same with his after the bartender had brought it over earlier. The room was dark and people walked by, but no one paid us any attention. There was an electric current in the air, but I tried to ignore it.

  “Stuart, you mean everything to me. And I want to make this … us”—he pointed to me then to himself—“work, no matter what.”

  I listened, not really sure how much I could believe. “You left me there. You left me and Jess there … after that perfect weekend,” I replied, sounding a bit more sad than angry, even to myself. “Look, I’m frustrated with myself too. I’m all over the place with you—not just knowing where I stand, but look, I just never thought I’d get blown off. I know this is new, but you can’t treat me like that. Did you even think of me. How I was?”

  He looked at me with such integrity then. I could see the truth in his eyes, that he was baring his soul. He leaned forward. “Yes. A lot. That’s why I’m here now. Stu, I … okay, I was all set to go. Honestly, I’ve never missed a job … I was in the airport line and all I could think was, screw this and the consequences, so I had to get back to you. Please … I don’t want to argue, I hate it. I’m lost without you.”

  In the darkness of the club, not fully seen but still in public, Marshall leaned across the table and clasped his hands over the top of mine. Such a small gesture and yet such an important one. Then he lifted one of my hands and kissed my knuckles.