by Beth Abbott
“Claire, have you got a minute?” Suzy smiled.
“Sure, honey.” Claire winked at her. “Come into my office.”
Suzy followed Claire into her office and closed the door.
“Thank you for backing me up.” She smiled. “I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you.”
“Hogwash!” Claire grinned. “You can handle Lacey anytime.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to speak to you. Matt and I wanted you to come to our place tonight for dinner. Your grandson is out, and Taylor and Charlie would be absolutely made up to have you come and visit.”
“Oh, honey, that sounds wonderful.” Claire beamed. “Can I get anything to bring with me?”
“Nope, you can just get your ass in Matt’s car when we finish work and let me feed you for a change.” Suzy grinned. “Dessert won’t be anywhere near as good as one of your cakes and will probably have to come out of the freezer, but hopefully the casserole will be edible.”
“Suzy, a few hours with the kids, and not having to listen to my grandson screaming at his X-box will be absolute bliss.” She rolled her eyes. “It took me two days to realise that it wasn’t playing a violent video game that got him worked up, it was that stupid FIFA football game! The damn thing should be banned!”
“Well, we should be slightly more peaceful than that.” Suzy smiled, heading for the door. “I’ll ask your PA to put it in your calendar for you.”
She heard Claire’s laughter all the way back to her desk.
Chapter 28 – Megan
Megan sat down on her oversized sofa, clutching her big coffee mug as she flicked through the TV channels, looking for some sport to watch to kill some time.
January was pretty dismal if you didn’t like football or cricket, and since Andy Murray’s injury and recent announcement of his possible retirement, tennis just didn’t have the same appeal.
Yeah, you had a couple of young British players coming through, but she’d watched Andy for almost fifteen years, and life without screaming at the TV in her support of him was never going to be quite the same.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Jamie Murray was still playing doubles, she might have seriously had to go into mourning, black veil, gin bottle… the works.
She gave up on watching TV and scrolled through her phone, trying to find some music she could listen to.
Once she’d set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker, she picked up her tablet to flick through the news.
The sports pages were still full of Robbie’s hat-trick, and every time she saw him being interviewed, without fail she would spot Evan lurking in the background.
That was a good thing, she reluctantly admitted to herself. At least she knew her brother would be safe as long as Evan was around.
She glanced at her watch and noticed it was already gone five o’clock. She’d have to think about getting out of her onesie soon.
Or not.
Robbie would think her new rainbow unicorn onesie was hilarious, and besides, she wasn’t in the mood to dress up tonight. She was in mourning for Andy Murray’s hip!
Still, she didn’t need to worry about dressing up for her brother.
Robbie had decided he was coming over to her place tonight, so he could watch the match she’d recorded, and enjoy seeing his hat-trick with her. He’d promised her he’d be there by six o’clock, which, knowing Robbie, meant six-thirty or six-forty-five.
She’d been half tempted to put him off for a couple of days, until she could get her head straight following the meeting with Evan, but his schedule was absolutely slammed, and between his commitments and her shifts, it didn’t look like either of them had a spare half an hour for at least two weeks.
Still, at least he’d promised to pick up some steak for them both, and knowing Robbie, that would be a couple of pieces of quality sirloin from the butcher’s shop opposite the stadium.
She could almost feel herself drooling at the thought.
Megan finished her coffee and wandered back to the kitchen, pottering around and getting things ready to go with the steak.
She popped a few large sweet potatoes into the newly repaired oven to bake, and checked she still had some oven chips in the freezer. You never knew which Robbie would want.
Mushrooms… check, onions… check, tomato… check, onion rings… check.
She hoped he hadn’t already had lunch at the club today, or he’d have no appetite left for the steak and trimmings.
Megan wandered around the apartment for a while, picking things up and putting them in drawers out of the way, trying to get the place as clutter-free as possible.
As she picked up her tablet, the screen lit up with Robbie’s picture, and there, again, standing next to him, was a smiling Evan.
She touched the screen to enlarge the image, and then moved it off centre so that Evan filled the screen entirely.
He was still her Evan, of that there was no doubt. The eyes were still the same, that gorgeous chocolate brown she remembered with that mischievous twinkle. The hair was still a wavy dark brown, although he kept it so short that you couldn’t see the curls he’d used to have.
Megan had loved his curls, but that was the first thing to go in readiness for him enlisting in the military, and she knew he was relieved, because he’d always been teased about wearing curlers to bed.
His hair in the picture wasn’t shaved like he’d worn it for the military, but it was still closely cropped so it stayed straight.
Megan moved the image around the screen, taking in the full picture.
The biggest change in him had been the extra weight he carried now.
He’d been very tall, even as a teenager, which was probably the first thing that had attracted her to him. It wasn’t just that he was tall, more that he wasn’t afraid to be tall. He never stooped or tried to blend into the crowd.
Confidence, she mused, was a wonderful thing, and a very attractive quality, and Evan had certainly been blessed with it in abundance, even when they were teenagers.
When he’d informed her that she would be going to the school disco with him, she’d been happy to agree. Who wouldn’t? He was in the top five most lusted after boys in her year, and in Megan’s humble opinion, he was number one.
It was no different years later when he’d told her they were going to live together and then get married. She’d just nodded and happily agreed.
Evan had just been so confident about their relationship working out that he’d convinced her that it would.
He was never arrogant or forceful, and when she came up with an idea that was better than his, he was never afraid to go along with what she suggested.
She was just happy to make him happy, and in fairness, Evan had devoted himself to giving her everything he thought she deserved, even when it was more than he could really afford. He’d worked extra hours, just so he could spoil her.
Megan sat down on the sofa and looked at the picture for the tiny scars she’d noticed on his cheekbone when they’d been talking yesterday. They were relatively new, along with the muscles.
Shrapnel, maybe?
She shuddered violently at the thought that he’d been scarred by shrapnel. How easily it could have been so much worse.
No matter what he’d done to her, Megan had never wished him hurt, or dead. The thought that he must have come close to death on so many occasions had the palms of her hands turning clammy, and she picked a tissue out of the box on the coffee-table to dry them.
She didn’t have a clue why she was getting worked up about what could have been. It hadn’t happened, and he was home safe, so why was she still having palpitations?
Oh, who was she kidding!
Every time she’d seen Evan this week, she’d responded to him strongly. Anger and pain had probably fuelled her reaction to him as much as anything else, but they just masked the underlying feelings that had never gone away.
Over the years, she’d just s
quashed down the love and adoration she’d felt for him, covering them up with layers of pain and sadness. The hard crust of loneliness that had developed over the last decade had barely kept it tightly locked down.
If she was being totally honest with herself, just seeing him again had blown a hole through that crust and let all the other feelings seep through.
The door buzzer interrupting her thoughts had her jumping up, checking the clock.
It was already twenty past six, meaning she’d lost almost half an hour daydreaming about Evan bloody Williams.
She touched the button for the intercom.
“You’re late!” She chuckled, pressing the button to release the catch on the outer door.
Hurrying to the kitchen, she opened the oven to pull out the baked potatoes. She’d completely forgotten about them, so it was a good job they were large to begin with, or they’d have been fit for nothing but the waste disposal.
Hearing the light tap on her front door, she left the tray on top of the stove and skipped to the door.
“What’s your excuse…” As she pulled the door open, the words stuck in her throat.
“I hate to point out the obvious, but you really shouldn’t buzz people through the main door without finding out who they are first.” Evan smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I could’ve been an axe-murderer, and your blood would already be staining that lovely cream carpet by now.”
Megan would’ve given a month’s pay to be able to deny her stupidity, and come back with a witty retort, but, how could she? Evan was absolutely right.
“I wasn’t thinking.” She acknowledged. “I was expecting Robbie, and he’s often late, so I just assumed it was him. I won’t be so foolish again.”
Evan hadn’t moved inside the apartment yet, and she guessed he was waiting for an invitation.
“Why are you here and not Robbie?” She glanced around him, wondering whether her brother was lurking out in the corridor somewhere.
“Robbie had to go to some last-minute team event with the club’s owner.” Evan shrugged. “There were almost as many protection officers as clients, and we were within the clubhouse behind locked doors. It seemed overkill to have us all on duty when we know they’re going to be staying there for several hours.”
Megan nodded, her heart sinking.
“That explains why Robbie isn’t here, but it doesn’t tell me why you are.” She pointed out. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered if I’d issued you with an invitation.”
Evan smiled at her abject failure at being subtle.
“Robbie asked me to bring these to you with his apology.” He held out a bag. “He said to explain that he’d be eating at the event and it will be too late to come over when it finishes, so you’re to go ahead and eat your steak without him, and then do what you want with the other one.”
Megan took the bag and felt the weight of it force her hand down.
“Jesus, there must be two sixteen-ounce steaks in there!” She laughed.
“I thought twenty-four ounces, but I couldn’t be sure.” Evan smiled.
Megan waited, desperately hoping he’d walk away, but when he paused, she felt crushed by her innate good manners, forcing her to invite him in.
“Would you like to join me for dinner, to make sure all this meat doesn’t go to waste?” She offered.
Evan smiled sadly as he turned away.
“You always were too polite for your own good.” He reminded her. “Put one in the freezer, Meg. I wouldn’t want you to choke on your food, having to make small-talk with me across the table while you eat.”
He started to walk away, and Megan felt a flash of something. Regret? Annoyance?
“Evan, I offered you a meal. Not a lifetime of deep and lasting affection. Just food.” She ground out. “Stop acting the martyr. It doesn’t suit you.”
When Evan turned back, he was frowning at her.
“Did I do this?” His eyebrows were drawn together. “Did what I did to you give you this… edge you have about you?”
“Edge?” She laughed. “You mean the fact that I don’t take any shit from anyone anymore? Yeah, I should probably give you some credit for that. Obviously, not in any good way, before you start patting yourself on the back.”
“It’s probably something you would have developed as you got older, I suppose.” Evan shrugged. “In your profession, I imagine if you don’t stick up for yourself, you get walked all over.”
“True.” She sighed. “Look, are you coming in or not, because I have no desire to stand here all night while you decide.”
“Are you sure you really want me to come in?” Evan was now trying not to smile. “I mean, I don’t think you’d normally dress like that if you were entertaining a dinner-guest.”
Megan glanced down just as she remembered she was wearing the unicorn rainbow onesie she’d bought in the January sale.
“I wouldn’t exactly call you a dinner-guest, and I’m offering to feed you not entertain you.” She insisted, trying not to blush. “And anyway, what’s wrong with it?”
“Umm, nothing I guess, if you like unicorns.” Evan grinned. “Which you obviously do.”
“Obviously.” Megan shrugged. “Look, are you gonna stay and eat or go back to the club? Make your mind up because you’re letting all the heat out of my flat, and quite frankly, the novelty of a doorstep conversation has long-since worn off.”
Evan stepped inside, somewhat reluctantly.
“Are you sure you want to cook for me?” He asked, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on a peg in the hallway, before removing his tie, coiling it around his hand and slipping it in his coat pocket. “I could cook for you instead, maybe? Give you a night off?”
“You mean you think you can cook it better than I can.” She scoffed. “Sure, knock yourself out. I’ve done jacket sweet potatoes to go with it, but I can do some oven chips instead. There are mushrooms, onions and salad prepared already.”
“Jacket is fine by me. Just point me to the kitchen.” He smiled.
Since Evan immediately took over cooking the whole meal, Megan reached behind the door for one of her aprons, so he wouldn’t ruin his suit trousers. She resisted the one of the half-naked muscled man that Robbie had given her for Christmas, and instead gave him her ‘Hail to the Chef’ apron instead.
They worked side by side in almost silence, while she got out plates and cutlery and Evan cooked the steaks, and within just a few minutes the smell of mushrooms and onions frying filled the flat, making her stomach rumble in delight.
Megan thought about setting the table in the small dining room but decided against it as being a little too intimate. Instead, she set everything up at the kitchen table, where the lighting was nice and bright, and could never be misinterpreted as romantic.
“There you go.” Evan delivered the plates to the table, as she deposited a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of them.
Before he could finish the protest that he was driving, she stopped him.
“It’s alcohol free.” She showed him the bottle. “I don’t like to drink, but I occasionally like to feel like a grown-up, and not be swigging out of a soda can.”
Once they were seated, Evan poured the wine into the glasses.
“What would you like to talk about?” Evan smiled at her. “I’ll let you pick, so that we don’t get into dangerous territory.”
“A subject that won’t be dangerous?” She pondered. “How about the weather?”
Chapter 29 – Evan
A whole hour had gone by, and they hadn’t argued once. Not even close!
Ok, so he’d been on his best behaviour and avoided any subject he thought might be inflammatory, and if he had to guess, Megan was doing something similar, but even so… it was progress.
“I like your hair longer.” He remarked casually. “It always suited you.”
Megan’s eyes narrowed, and Evan could have kicked himself for saying something so personal.
> “Sorry, that was just meant to be an observation.” He quickly excused himself.
“It’s easier for work if your hair is either short or long.” Megan shrugged. “If it’s mid-length it’s not so easy to plait or tie back. I don’t like how I look with short hair. It doesn’t suit me.”
“I saw you had it plaited in one of the photos Robbie has of you on his wall.” Evan nodded. “I’m guessing it was recent because of Robbie’s football strip, but you still looked about eighteen.”
“I probably should thank you for the compliment, but I don’t think my teenage years were my best.” Megan smiled. “I hated the way I looked once my body started developing, and mostly hid under baggy clothes to stop people from noticing.”
“At the risk of getting slapped, if by people you meant boys, you failed miserably.” Evan grinned. “We noticed you alright! The only girl who got more mentions than you on the walk into assembly was Tracey Clifford, and we all knew that her assets grew in when we were about thirteen. Most of the boys in our year got their first public erection watching Tracey play hockey or netball. We used to tremble if she so much as walked past us.”
He watched Megan’s eyes crinkle until finally she grinned.
“Poor Tracey.” She laughed. “I heard she had a breast reduction on the NHS a few years ago. I can’t say I blame her. She probably had terrible back trouble from being a triple H cup. It must be awful getting stared at by men like that. Pervy!”
Evan couldn’t help but smirk.
“There was probably a fantastic career out there just waiting to happen.” He cleared his throat. “She could have been one of those women on the late-night TV channels, trying to persuade men to call the extortionately priced hotlines, where some old woman talks dirty to the punters while her husband soaks his dentures after he’s taken his hearing aid out. What a lost opportunity.”
“You’re saying she should have got her boobs out on TV for dirty old men to jerk off to?” Megan hissed. “That’s degrading!”
“It’s a business opportunity.” Evan insisted, barely able to hide his grin. “She’d have been selling her image, not her body or her soul. She could even have worn a sexy mask or something to hide her identity.”