London, Can You Wait?

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London, Can You Wait? Page 37

by Jacquelyn Middleton


  “Christ, I’ve missed you.” His thumb grazed her hip, stopping to rest just inside the waistband of her panties. “I thought about you…all the time.”

  She stared into his eyes as her hands skimmed downwards. Through the cotton, she felt him stir—hard and eager.

  He gasped, his mouth invading hers without mercy, like her kiss held the secret to his survival. Teasing her, his tongue was warm and confident, coaxing Alex to fully trust him again.

  She answered by grabbing his hand and leading him towards her bedroom. Memories rushed through her mind: how his body fit hers perfectly, how incredible he felt…would it be the same now? Different? Better? The ache to find out short-circuited all rational thought. So what if this is just a one-night stand? Even if they had no future, she wasn’t about to spoil the present. Decisions, writing, London—everything could wait. All that mattered was this moment, being with the man she loved. She wanted to enjoy Mark now, while he was there, while he was hers.

  They barely made it out of the kitchen—it was like Mark read her mind. He swooped her up in his arms, laying her down on the sofa before pressing his whole body against hers. He kissed down her neck to her bare breasts, circling and taunting them with his tongue and fingers while she buried her hands in his hair, pulling, twisting. She inhaled him deeply, dizzy with his scent—with her desire for more. Her moans prompted Mark to break away.

  “I love you, Lex,” he whispered between heavy breaths. “I never stopped…I never will.”

  Her heart couldn’t soar any higher. It wasn’t too late. His love and the sincere twinkle in his eyes was all she needed. “Don’t fly to Dublin. Stay.”

  He bit his lower lip like he was preventing words from escaping.

  “Don’t leave tomorrow, or Sunday—don’t go at all. I love you, Mark. Stay here with me?”

  A wide smile lit up his face. “Yes…the answer’s always yes!”

  He lowered his mouth to meet her lips, but Alex took control, kissing him hard and deep while tugging his boxer briefs away from his hips. Mark grabbed hold of the material and finished what Alex had started, allowing her to shimmy out of her panties. She pulled him down against her, feeling his warm skin, his hardness against her hip, his thigh muscles tensed in anticipation.

  “Lex…” Mark winced like Christmas had been cancelled. “I don’t have a condom. We could just—”

  A quick kiss on the lips and her hand dove to her purse on the floor. A feverish rustle…and her fingers reappeared with the foil-wrapped prize. She smirked. “Always ‘Be Prepared’—once a Girl Scout…”

  Mark grinned and made quick work, putting on the condom and easing himself gently back on top of her. He tenderly traced her lips with his thumb, the want in his eyes matching hers. “Lex, it’s always been you…”

  Feeling his body weigh her down…wrapped in his warmth, immersed in his breath, Alex’s hands slipped down Mark’s back. A trembling breath left her lungs. “Thank you, for finding me…”

  A warm tear trickled down her cheek. His finger lovingly swept it away.

  Kissing her softly, Mark pushed inside her. Alex inhaled sharply, rocking with him, falling into a rhythm she knew so well and had desperately missed. Eight months of heartache, loneliness, and misunderstanding were released with each caress, each kiss, their movements as one. Alex, The Girl Who Waited…was waiting no more.

  Fifty-Five

  Alex typed a text to Lucy. Hot chocolate. With ALL the marshmallows!

  “Good morning, Mouse.” Mark’s smiley lilt drifted over her shoulder.

  Hitting send, she set her phone on the bedside table and pulled Mark’s arms tighter around her chest, inviting his warm body to spoon hers from head to toe. She giggled. “Waking up to your voice…it is a good morning.”

  Kissing her shoulder, Mark curled around her. “What were you doing?”

  “Texting Lucy.”

  He cuddled into Alex’s hair and inhaled. “Mouse, can we just lie here and never move?”

  “We can lie here, but I’m nixing the never moving part. We have eight months to make up for, Keegan.”

  “It’s a good thing I have no work lined up until October…” Mark’s fingers traced the delicate Doctor Who quote tattooed on the inside of her forearm. “…since I’ll be otherwise engaged as an amateur porn star for the next month and a half—in the shower, on the floor, against the wall…”

  “Promises, promises. Don’t get a poor girl’s hopes up.” Alex shimmied around to face him, her lips close to his. “Mark…there is something…”

  “Yeah?” His eyelids hovered contentedly as he stroked her hip.

  “Something you should know…” She bit her cheek. “No more secrets, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Freddie may have said, but…I want to explain.” She took in a deep breath. “This summer, there was a guy…”

  Mark closed his eyes. “The guy from the Court?”

  “Yeah.” She winced. “I slept with him…but it was over before it really began.”

  “Lex, I can’t lie—I hate that guy. I don’t like that you were with him, but we both went off the rails, and that’s my fault—”

  “Mark—”

  “No. If I had been honest with you, sought help sooner, we wouldn’t have split…or slept with other people.”

  “I thought I’d lost you to Fallon…”

  “Fallon was the first girl I slept with, yeah, but what I felt for her as a teenager or for two fucked up weeks this spring doesn’t compare to how I’ve always felt about you, Lex. What we share—this no-one-gets-me-like-you love—is the real deal. You and me, we just make sense. We belong together.”

  A breath caught in Alex’s throat. She swore her heart skipped a beat, hoping he really meant it.

  He brushed the hair from her eyes. “I’m so grateful for this second chance. I’ll do everything I can not to mess it up.”

  Alex wrapped her arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder. Mark reciprocated with a kiss that he held in her hair.

  “I wasn’t honest about my anxiety. I hid so much…since April last year.”

  “April? But…that’s when we moved in together.”

  “And I quit the National, and Wink came on the scene and sent you jetting off everywhere…”

  “Christ, Lex. Any one of those things is a massive change, but all at once? Fuck! I was such a shit boyfriend, not noticing what was going on with you—”

  “You’re not a mind reader, Mark. I didn’t want you to worry or get distracted at work, so I lied. I would say I was fine on FaceTime and then spent the next half-hour bawling in the shower.”

  “Oh, Mouse, what are we both like?” He caressed her cheek. “Hiding the truth to spare the other…”

  “I should’ve gone to therapy, but I wasn’t ready. My doctor prescribed pills I didn’t take. Getting help then felt like giving in, admitting I was a loser who couldn’t keep it together on her own. Obviously, I know better now. There’s no shame in getting help. There’s no shame in being a work in progress.”

  “Too right. Seeing my therapist is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” His brows creased. “I hate that you felt you couldn’t tell me…”

  “But that’s why I’m telling you now.” Her eyes widened, hoping Mark was on the same page. “Things are different now, right?”

  “Things are different now. No more secrets, no more hiding the truth. We both have to communicate more, yeah? Be upfront about what’s going on with work, what we’re feeling, even if it’s not all champagne and roses.” He kissed her softly. “So, what did you do…about your anxiety?”

  “Two weeks before Christmas, everything was piling on top of me…I could barely hold it together. I was selling things to pay rent and buy gifts. Theatres were ignoring my emails…”

  “Oh, babe…”

  “A panic attack started over the stupidest thing—a ribbon I couldn’t curl on Lucy’s Christmas present. I couldn’t breathe, I was shaking…so
, I took a pill and felt…calmer…but also dizzy, and my sight was blurry. I took one every day hoping the side effects would fade, but they didn’t. I stopped taking them on Boxing Day. I thought they’d be out of my system by New Year’s, and I could have a drink…”

  Mark propped himself up on his elbow. “Lex! Is that why—”

  “Yeah.” Alex nodded sheepishly. “I’d never intentionally get hammered in front of your castmates. I mean, really…I picked the lamest drink on the menu.”

  “I wondered how mojitos could be so deadly!”

  “I won’t make that mistake again! I know I’ll never be cured of my anxiety, but at least I’ve found a way to manage it.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Lex.” Mark smiled kindly. “Okay, here’s something else you should know…I didn’t hurt myself in a snowball fight. I fell from a horse.”

  Her eyes widened. “I knew it!”

  “And…I dislocated my shoulder.”

  “Oh, Mark!” She rubbed his arm. “I knew it was something serious.”

  “I knew you did, but that didn’t stop me from carrying on the snowball charade! I only did it to keep you from worrying.”

  Alex frowned. “See? Lying is too much work. It’s exhausting.”

  Mark shifted closer, his hand stroking her ass. “I’d rather conserve my energy for more pleasurable pursuits…”

  Alex gave him a lingering kiss.

  “Christ, eight months…I’ve missed so much. You’ve written a graphic novel. You now like Thai food! You jog, have two plays slated for the stage next year…is there anything else I’ve missed, Miss Overachiever?”

  “Well, I quit jogging. Hated it! I fast-walk instead. Oh…I binge-watched every episode of Friends.”

  “You didn’t? Well, that’s unbelievably hot.” He raised an eyebrow. “How you doin’?”

  Alex giggled. “You’re the overachiever.” Nose to nose, she kissed his lips as her fingers played in his hair. “I can’t believe you learned Portuguese.”

  “Just a little for Throttle. I’ve already forgotten most of it, although this might come in handy: Você está me deixando excitada.”

  She shrugged. “No clue.”

  “You’re making me horny.” He grinned mischievously.

  “You don’t have to say it.” Her gaze slid downwards to her thigh. “I can feel it.”

  Mark laughed. “I’m quite relieved I don’t have to say that line on film, though. Not exactly Ibsen, is it?”

  “Not even close.” She looked up through her bangs.

  “Speaking of Ibsen…” He weaved his fingers through her hair. “I’m gonna need some help learning lines…”

  “No…really?!”

  Mark couldn’t contain his smile. “Yeah! I’ve been cast in A Doll’s House.”

  “That’s at the Old Vic!”

  “Yep. Performances start in February. I’m the male lead—I’m playing Torvald.”

  “Mark!”

  “I don’t know what I’m excited about more…the role, or the fact that I’ll get to sleep in my own bed for the foreseeable! I can’t remember what that’s like.”

  “But this play…it’s a classic. Wow!”

  “I know! Can you believe it? Me, on stage at the Old Vic. I’m still gobsmacked. This never would’ve happened if I was still with Wink, you know? My new agent is totally in sync with what I want to do—and when, and the timing is perfect. Lairds series four shoots in October, so I can prep for the play from November onwards…so get used to me being around—a lot.”

  “I think I could get very used to that.” Alex smiled, hugging him tightly.

  Fifty-Six

  Two weeks later

  “Two weeks here, and only recognized once—at the top of the Empire State Building.” Mark rushed into the bedroom, running a hand through his fresh haircut. “Ya know, New York is growing on me.”

  “Good, because we’ll be back soon.” Alex smiled, giving her open suitcase a final check. “Last year’s Christmas gift will be put to good use! Skating under the Rockefeller Center tree, hot chocolate—”

  “Better be marshmallows!” His eyes darted from the dresser to the bookshelves, searching.

  “With marshmallows!” Her grin grew twice its size. “Everything’s so sparkly, so hopeful at Christmas. You’ll see. New York’s decorations are out of this world.”

  Mark flipped over the bed’s pillows and yanked open the bedside table’s drawer. “Better than London?”

  “Maybe bigger, but not better. Nothing’s better than London…hey, what are you doing?”

  “Lost something…the toy car I carry ’round.”

  “I saw it on the breakfast bar a few days ago. Maybe check your backpack again?”

  “Yeah, I probably missed it.” He walked across the room. “Ready to head home?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers brushed across the weathered cotton of a rolled-up top in her case. “I missed London, but I missed you more. Wait…” She captured Mark’s passing hand and pulled him back, pressing her lips against his. “There. I’m making up for lost time.”

  His smiley eyes fell to her case. “Ah, Mouse? Have you turned pack rat? Isn’t that my old sweatshirt? I thought you chucked it ages ago.”

  “I couldn’t let it go. It made me feel close to you even when I wasn’t.” Her free hand brushed his stubbly chin. “I know I made you uncomfortable…before, talking about engagements and weddings—”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but Alex laid a finger on his lips.

  “All that matters to me now is being with you. Marriage doesn’t prove your love for me. You coming here, sharing your past, being honest about everything…that’s worth more than a wedding ring, and it’s enough. Really, it is.”

  Mark pressed his forehead against Alex’s. “But no wedding means no chocolate cupcakes.”

  “I can bake my own cupcakes, no wedding required.”

  He kissed her softly and pulled away with a satisfied smile. He kneeled in front of his new duffel bag and rifled through the clothes he had purchased over the past two weeks. “Did you see Freddie’s text?”

  She grabbed her phone from the bed. “The Marlex, you better bring back a case full of Sno Balls and Ding Dongs, or don’t bother boarding the plane text?”

  “That’s the one. Demanding little sod. He should have asked earlier.”

  “Nah, we can nip to the deli before we head to the airport.” Her eyes travelled across her phone. “Oh!”

  Mark stopped his search and looked over his shoulder. “All okay?”

  “Text from Dad. Says…can’t wait to see us next weekend. Joan’s calling dibs on you for Sunday…there’s some scooter rally she’s dragging you to? You already said yes?”

  “Yeah. She wants me to help her pick out a Vespa.” He zipped the duffel bag and stood up. Scratching his neck, he left the room.

  Alex giggled and peeked underneath the bed, looking for his toy car. “Mark, when you’ve got a minute, I want to show you something.”

  He rushed back, his hand rooting through his backpack.

  “Any luck?” Alex stood up. “I’ll check the other bedrooms…”

  He froze, his eyes widening. “Oh, thank Christ!” He pulled out a small yellow car.

  “I know how much you love that old thing. Kinda like me and Paddington.” She sat on the bed and exchanged her phone for her laptop. “Some toys are too special to leave behind.”

  “This one was Kieran’s.”

  They shared a wistful smile.

  Mark returned his treasure to his backpack. “Whatcha want to show me?”

  “Your anniversary present—nine months late.” She opened Final Draft on her laptop. “Ages ago, you said you wanted to do something intimate like Simon Stephens’ Sea Wall, so…”

  He sat down, curling an arm around her waist.

  “I wrote you a one-man, one-act play. It’s called Shockwave.”

  “My God, Lex…” Mark fell silent, his eyes travelling across
the screen, line by line, absorbing his girlfriend’s script. Alex chewed her thumbnail, waiting.

  After a few minutes and a severely gnawed nail on Alex’s thumb, he sat back, eyes all misty. “Lex…what I’ve read so far, it’s incredible, but…when did you do this?”

  “I started after the final night of The Great Gatsby, just before we moved in together. Remember the after-party?”

  A smile flashed across Mark’s cheeks. “Jägerbombs and Pulp songs on karaoke!”

  “You were wearing Freddie’s glasses—”

  “Pretending to be Jarvis Cocker! I still can’t hear ‘Common People’ without pissing myself laughing. God, I loved Sheffield…the audiences, my castmates.”

  “Yeah, and you said to me, ‘The theatre is my happy place. It’s where I belong.’ But when Wink took you on, he only put your name forward for movies and TV. I wanted to give you what your heart desired.”

  “Mouse, I can’t believe you wrote this for me.” He shook his head, staring at the screen. “I’m…speechless. Thank you.” He pulled her in for a kiss.

  “I know there’s no guarantee a theatre will pick it up…”

  “I can’t see it not being picked up. It’s so emotional. When his boyfriend…turns out to have already died? It’ll slay people.” Mark smiled at Alex. “It would work really well in a smaller space like the Dorfman or upstairs at the Court. I’m definitely showing it to my agent next week.” He continued reading.

  Alex picked up her phone, diving into her email…scrolling, scrolling… That one could wait, that one was spam. Another message that could wait, another one…that couldn’t. She opened it and gasped.

  Mark snickered. “What did Freds send you now?”

  “It’s not Freddie.” She swept her hair away from her face, revealing a massive grin. “A publisher wants our graphic novel. Mark, Lucy and I have done it!”

  Fifty-Seven

  London, a month later

  “You’re going to turn into a crunchy Italian nacho.” Mark pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes and swung Alex’s hand as they left Jamie Oliver’s restaurant on Upper St. Martin’s Lane. “I can’t believe you got an extra order to go.”

 

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