by Lottie Lucas
As if of one mind, they both turn to look imploringly at me.
“What do you think, Clara?” they say in unison.
“Oh, no.” I disentangle my legs from where they’ve been curled up beneath me on the sofa and get up, beginning to clear the empty coffee cups off the table. “I’ve told you. I’m staying well out of this. It’s not my decision, it’s yours.”
Clearly, I would love for them to stay here in Cambridge. I couldn’t think of much better than having my little nephew or niece just around the corner. But, at the same time, I don’t want to sway their decision. It’s their life; they have to decide what’s best for them, not anyone else. And if that decision means they might be living almost two hundred miles away, then, well … there are trains, right? It’s hardly the moon.
“Just take a look at them,” Freddie urges. “Come on, Clara. We’re getting nowhere trying to decide on our own. We need your input.”
“No, you don’t,” I say, gently but firmly. “You’re your own little family unit now. When this baby comes, you’re going to have to make dozens of choices every day. You might as well start getting used to it.”
He huffs, but then he turns to Jess and says, “Tell you what; why don’t we make appointments for them both? We can’t make any proper decisions without seeing them, can we?”
She nods happily. “That’s a good idea.”
I smile to myself as I take the cups through into the kitchen and put them in the sink. That’s another reason I’m not going to tell them what to do—because they don’t actually need me to. They think they do, but they don’t. I look at Freddie these days, and I see a totally different person. He was right; he’s no longer the boy I felt I had to look after, to shield him from the world.
The doorbell rings, reverberating through the house.
“Anyone going to get that?” I holler. Then, when it rings again, I stick my head through the doorway into the living room. Freddie and Jess seem to have given up on the house search entirely; instead, they’re entwined upon the sofa, kissing passionately like a couple of teenagers, oblivious to everything around them.
I edge past them, trying not to look. We really need to get them installed in their own house, and soon. Much more of this and I’ll probably morph into an actual gooseberry.
“Hi—” I wrench open the front door breathlessly “—sorry to have kept you waiting. I was just …”
And then I stop mid-sentence. Because standing on the doorstep, with his hands in his pockets and a familiar crooked smile, is the last person I expected to see.
Chapter 28
Actually, upon reflection, that’s not strictly true.
I mean, there are plenty of less likely candidates to find upon the doorstep. Jeremy, for one. Or the Prime Minister. Or the milkman who refused to do our round any more after Casper took to hiding behind the empty milk bottles and attacking his hand when he reached down to collect them. Or even … I’m warming to my theme now … my parents, perhaps?
Now, that really would be a surprise.
Having said that, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see Josh again. I thought we’d ended things between us pretty succinctly.
“What do you want?” I ask warily.
He doesn’t seem deterred by my cool reception. In fact, he just flashes me another one of those gorgeous smiles. I wait for my heart to flip, but it doesn’t.
All right, so maybe it does a tiny bit. I mean, come on. He’s still beautiful. And I’m only human.
“How are you?” he says conversationally, leaning against the doorframe in that urbane manner he has.
How am I? Is he serious?
“Fine,” I say stonily. “What do you want, Josh?”
That seems to dent his bravado a bit. The dazzling smile flickers slightly. “I wondered if we could talk. Just for a minute.”
“Really?” I’m getting exasperated. I’m way too tired and overwhelmed to deal with this right now. And I’m not in the mood to play games either. “I think we covered everything the last time we spoke, didn’t we?” My voice grows a jagged edge as I warm to my theme. “You were quite explicit about how you felt. In fact, everyone in the room heard about it, including, by the way, my friends, my boss, and one of the country’s top art patrons. I don’t need you to spell it out again, thank you very much.”
His shoulders drop, his eyes filling with contrition. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”
I consider that for a moment. In this case, he’s probably right. I can’t think of anyone I’d less rather see at the moment. Even that hostile milkman.
“But just …” He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “Look, let’s not do this here. Let me take you out. No pressure, I promise,” he adds quickly, as I open my mouth to refuse. “Just for a chat. If at any moment you don’t like what I’m saying, you can leave. I won’t stop you. And if, after that, you still don’t want to see me ever again … well, I’ll respect your wishes.”
There’s nothing I’d like more than to slam the door in his face. But that would only make me look childish and unreasonable; I’d lose whatever moral high ground I currently possess. Besides which, I do still have my pride; I want him to leave regretting what an amazing thing he threw away, not thanking his stars for a lucky escape.
I hesitate. It’s only for the briefest of moments, but he sees it.
“Please, Clara,” he says softly. “I just want to do something right for once.”
His words hit me right in the centre of my chest, making my defences wobble precariously. Damn, but he’s persuasive. What can I say to that?
I don’t owe him anything, I remind myself firmly. And really, he has no right to expect me to listen to him. He has no right to even ask.
And yet … I look into his deep green eyes and I can’t deny that a part of me wants to hear what he has to say. If I send him away now, I’m afraid that I’ll regret it. I’m afraid that I’ll always wonder.
The decision is made for me a moment later as a squeal emits from the living room, followed by a crash which sounds suspiciously like the lamp falling off the side table. I know that sound well; God knows, Casper’s knocked it over often enough.
I’m already reaching behind the door for my coat. I might not know my own heart, but at least one thing’s for certain: even a walk with Josh is preferable to being forced to listen to my brother having coitus on my sofa.
“All right. I’ll come. But just for a few minutes. And this doesn’t mean anything,” I warn him, pulling the door closed behind me. It’s a deceptively cold day, all sunshine and frosty air, and I fasten the buttons on my bright red coat, telling myself that it was pure coincidence which led me to grab my most becoming piece of outerwear. After all, I’m not trying to impress him any more. This is just a formality, a courtesy even. A means to get some closure. I couldn’t care less if he finds me attractive.
You know, technically.
“Nothing at all.” He shakes his head in agreement, which is an odd juxtaposition. “Just two friends …”
“Acquaintances,” I correct him staunchly.
“… having a walk,” he continues smoothly. “Maybe even a coffee, if all goes well.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I mutter. But I can’t help adding, “A hot chocolate, since you’re asking. And I want it with all of the trimmings; it’s the least you can do. I’m talking whipped cream, marshmallows, sprinkles …”
“Sprinkles?” He looks appalled. “Are you sure?”
“And chocolate sauce,” I finish resolutely. “Maybe even some of those little honeycomb pieces if they have them.”
“Sounds like a coronary waiting to happen,” he says faintly. “But all right. I can hardly say no, can I? Got to pay off the debt. How many hot chocolates will it take, do you think?”
I give him a disbelieving look.
“Too soon for jokes?” He winces. “Okay, just thought I’d try it.”
“Not qu
ite seeing the funny side just yet,” I say in a strained voice. “I could have lost my job, Josh.”
“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, hanging his head. “I didn’t realise … I never intended … well, any of it. Please say that you believe me on that score, at least.”
I briefly entertain the notion of tormenting him, but then I sigh in defeat. I’m better than that. “I do.”
For all of his faults, I know he didn’t intend to do it. He’s not a bad person, just a thoughtless one. And, much as I’d like to stay angry with him, I can feel the heat of it ebbing away. After all, it took some courage turning up at the door like that. He must have known that he wouldn’t receive a warm reception, and yet he’s willingly put himself in the firing line. That must count for something, mustn’t it?
When it comes down to it, I don’t really have the energy in me to carry on resenting him. Too much has happened since then.
While we’ve been talking, we’ve wandered down to the park, where there seems to be some sort of fair going on. There’s a scattering of artisan food stalls in the foreground (after all, this isn’t just any old fair. This is a Cambridge fair) and Josh inclines his head towards them now.
“Let me buy you that hot chocolate?”
We settle at one of the rickety metal tables next to the stall while we wait for the promised beverage to arrive. Josh was as good as his word; he made the poor stall owner get every topping off the shelves. Luckily, he’s charming enough to get away with it.
He certainly got away with a lot when it came to me. But that was my own fault; didn’t I register that charm early on? Didn’t I even wonder if it was something to be wary of? And yet I let myself fall beneath his spell anyway. No one could say that I didn’t do so willingly.
“Clara …” he begins haltingly, interlacing his hands together on the table in front of him. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I just … when you came out with that … I panicked. I was immediately ashamed of how I’d behaved, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”
I shrug. “I did rather spring it upon you.”
The truth is that a lot of it was my fault; I can see that now. I mean, sure, he could have handled it a lot better; I’m not excusing him from that. But I played my part too. I made assumptions based upon what I wanted to be the truth, not upon what was actually going on in front of me. I twisted his words in my head until they meant what I wanted them to mean. I was never really in a relationship with Josh; I was in a relationship with a vision of Josh I’d created.
And, in doing so, I missed out on a relationship with the real man. Someone who’s caring and interesting and funny. I didn’t imagine those things. Someone I now find myself wishing I’d let myself get to know.
“But still …” He leans forward intently, then breaks off as the waitress places our drinks down in front of us. She’s smiling at him coquettishly, but he doesn’t even look up. His gaze is steadfastly fixed upon me. I suppose I ought to be flattered. She certainly thinks so; she shoots me a resentful look over her shoulder as she walks away.
Josh carries on, completely unaware of this byplay.
“The thing is, Clara, I really did like you. I do like you. You’re fun, and different, and … well, it was never just about the sex, no matter what I might have said in the … uh, heat of the moment.” He flushes appealingly.
“You don’t have to say any of this.” I’m feeling pretty embarrassed myself. I poke at my hot chocolate with the spoon; it’s a monstrous confection of cream and toppings. I have no idea how I’ll manage it all. I only really ordered it to spite him.
“No, I want to.” As if on impulse, he takes my free hand, which is resting upon the table. We both stare down at our interlocked fingers for a moment. I’m frozen in indecision. I should pull my hand away, but I don’t, and then somehow it seems too late to do it. So I just leave it there, trying to pretend that it’s no big deal.
Except … it is. Because I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine. And it’s doing something strange to my insides.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, looking at me with those enthralling green eyes. Those eyes are wasted on a man; any woman would kill for them. “That’s never happened to me before. Usually it’s just easy come, easy go, but with you … I can’t let go. You make me want to try harder, to try and have something more meaningful for once.”
I stare numbly back at him, feeling torn.
A part of me wishes he wasn’t saying all of this. Once upon a time, it would have been my every dream come true. But now … the last thing I need is any more complication in my life.
And who am I kidding? That’s not just it. The truth is that I’ve changed. I’m wiser than I used to be, more wary. Just because a gorgeous man wants to be with me doesn’t mean I’m about to leap into his arms.
On the other hand …
“Let me try, Clara,” he whispers. “That’s all I want.”
Butterflies, definite butterflies. They’re still there. I take a breath, spoon cream off the top of my hot chocolate. Hope I’m not about to make a big mistake.
“One step at a time,” I tell him. “Then maybe … we’ll see.”
His face breaks out into a glorious smile. “I see a coconut shy over there. I was pretty good at that when I was a kid.” He points at my still half-full cup. “Tell you what; finish that, and then let’s see if I can win one for you.”
***
I’d forgotten how easy it is, being with Josh. He’s so wonderfully uncomplicated. We spend the rest of the afternoon at the fair. He does win me a coconut, and a lurid pink rabbit from the hook-a-duck stall. We take a spin on the teacups, much to the ride manager’s palpable disdain, and I manage to persuade Josh to try some candyfloss, even though apparently it goes against his every medical sensibility.
For the first time, I’m not expecting anything more from him. I’m not angsting over the state of our relationship, or worrying about where it’s all going. I’m not trying to make him into anything he’s not. And that means I enjoy being with him in a way that I never really have before. He makes me laugh. A lot. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so purely in the moment. He makes me feel light again, as if all of the seriousness of the past few weeks has been lifted from me.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m not falling for him all over again. That would be foolish, after what happened last time. I’m keeping my distance. My heart is well and truly guarded.
But that doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate his company, right?
To his credit, he seems to respect our new boundaries. He doesn’t try to kiss me, although I can tell that he wants to. A couple of times throughout the afternoon he looks at me, and my breath catches at the hungry expression in his eyes. He doesn’t hold my hand again either, although at one point he does place his palm against my back to steer me. It’s only a fleeting touch, but it counts. I think.
Not that I want him to touch me or anything. Because, you know, boundaries. Strong, modern woman and all of that.
Even so, as we grow closer to my house, I find myself deliberately slowing my steps, wanting to prolong our time together. And when we arrive at my front door, I don’t reach for my keys. A light rain has begun to fall, lacing my hair with water droplets.
We just stand there, looking at one another. Apparently neither of us knows what to say.
“Thanks for this afternoon,” he says at last, pulling his coat collar up around his neck as the rain intensifies. “I had a great time.”
“So did I,” I say breathlessly. I realise that I’m tilting forward slightly, as though inviting him to kiss me, and I tug myself back. Modern women do not throw themselves at men. Especially ones who’ve hurt them in the past.
But this Josh doesn’t feel like the same guy who did all of that. He feels like someone new, someone I’m just getting to know for the first time, and … damn it, I so want him to kiss me. And maybe that’s wrong, after everything,
but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except feeling his lips upon mine, seeing if we still have that same magic.
“Can we do this again?” he asks, and he almost sounds tentative. “I mean, obviously, not this exactly, but you know … something else.”
He’s rambling. Delight blooms within me, and I have to stop myself from breaking out into a grin. Josh’s always so self-possessed, so unflappable. And yet, here he is, tongue-tied as he tries to ask me out on a date.
It’s adorable. And it only makes me want to kiss him all the more.
“I’d like that,” I say simply. I’m aware that we’re having about the most clichéd post-date conversation ever here, but so what? I haven’t changed that much; my heart still skips at the thought of being the girl in the fairy tale. The girl romance happens to. With the rain, and him hovering on the doorstep like this, and maybe even …
“I’d better get going, before we’re both soaked to the skin,” he says pragmatically, and I feel a stab of disappointment.
So that’s a no to kissing in the rain, then.
“Absolutely,” I say brightly. “Just … give me a call.”
“I will.” He heads off down the garden path without a backward look. I fish my keys out of my bag, feeling strangely disconsolate, but just as I’m pushing them into the lock I hear footsteps behind me.
“I’m sorry, but it won’t do. I can’t leave it like that.”
And then he spins me around and into a long, dizzying kiss.
At last he pulls away, breathing hard. “See you later.”
Before I can catch my breath, he’s gone. And I’m left standing on the doorstep, not knowing what to feel.
Chapter 29
“Can we talk?” Ruby hisses, digging her electric-blue fingernails into my arm.
“What about?” I ask innocently.
“Him!” She jabs a finger in Josh’s direction. He’s standing at the other end of the gallery, looking blankly at a depiction of Lancelot and Guinevere. “What the hell is going on?”