Kiss and Make Up

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Kiss and Make Up Page 16

by Robertson, Faye


  “Noble?” She gave a harsh laugh. “Eli, didn’t it cross your mind that I’d think you were only asking me because you felt you had to?”

  He blinked. “No.”

  She rolled her eyes as if to say “unbelievable.” “So why didn’t you ask me anyway?”

  “You looked so relieved—I thought you were glad to be free. And…to be honest…I was worried you’d say no.”

  If he’d thought that would endear him to her, he was mistaken. She sent him a look that made him curl up inside with shame. “You really think that’s a good enough excuse? I’d never have thought of you as a coward, Eli.”

  Her words stung, but he bit back the sharp retort that jumped to his lips. She was hurting, and he wanted to make it right. “Maybe not, but it is the truth. Come on, Tabbs, I’ve been tied in knots since the day I met you.” For the first time, the mists were lifting and the future was becoming clear to him, and he didn’t like what he was seeing. He touched her arm.

  She pulled away. “Don’t.”

  How could he make her understand? “Even now, I still don’t know the answer. I don’t expect you to give up your dream, but equally I can’t either, I just can’t.” He stepped toward her, exhaling with frustration as she stepped back. Helplessness made his last reservations dissipate. “I want you so badly—I love you, I’m crazy about you. I’ve never met anyone like you—you’re so open and honest, and you haven’t tried to change me—you’ve accepted me for what I am. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

  Her face remained impassive, and he felt as if someone had slid a knife between his ribs.

  “I love you,” he repeated softly. “Do you love me?”

  The hard look in her eyes softened. “Of course I do.” Their gazes met, and he could see the longing in her eyes. For a brief moment, he glimpsed how great it could have been. But then she looked across the sea, and her shoulders fell. “I’d like a fairy-tale ending, too, Eli. But it’s immaterial. There is no answer that will make everything right.”

  They both fell silent. The blade in his chest continued to slice through him, tearing him in two. He couldn’t believe it was coming to an end and gave it one last try, reaching out to her physically and emotionally. “Tabbs, I love you…”

  She shrugged off his hand. “But not enough to come to the UK with me.”

  The statement was incredibly unfair, especially as she was so insistent on going to London, but he didn’t say anything, knowing she was hurting as much as he was. Any possibility of a future with her was slipping away, and he didn’t want to end the moment with harsh words.

  “It’s got to end, Eli. Let’s just finish it now, eh? I’m going back to the beach house. I’ll take the third bedroom, and we’ll sort out travel arrangements in the morning.” She met his gaze briefly. “It’s been good, though, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” No more words would come. Something was squeezing his lungs.

  She walked away.

  Eli took the box out of his jeans pocket. He flipped it open and looked at the ring. Taking it out, he drew back his arm to throw it into the ocean, rage burning like acid in his stomach.

  But he couldn’t do it. The ring wasn’t at fault. Something made him slip it back into the box and into his pocket. He was going to keep it as a reminder of what he’d nearly had. And maybe the next time, he wouldn’t be so fucking stupid.

  …

  An hour later, he was knocking back a whisky when Mick came through the door to the bar. The relief on Mick’s face was obvious as his gaze fell on Eli, and he came over. “Geez, I’ve been looking all over town for you.”

  Eli shrugged and knocked back the rest of the scotch. “Want a drink?”

  “I’ll get them,” Mick said. He went up to the bar, ordered two whiskies, and brought them back to the table. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “No.” Eli took a large mouthful of the drink and felt it burn all the way down to his already acid-ridden stomach. He leaned his head on the back of the seat and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Did she say no, then?” Mick asked.

  “No to what?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Mick said, “Oh Christ, you didn’t ask her, did you?”

  He didn’t want to relate the conversation they’d had. Instead, he just shrugged. “She’s going to the UK. I’m going to LA. She’s not pregnant. It’s over, Mick.” He took another slug of the whisky. “Finito. Kaput.”

  “Right.” Mick heaved a sigh and took a swallow of his own drink. “All done.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re never going to see her again.”

  “Nope.”

  “The girl who’s made you smile more than all your other girlfriends put together.”

  “Nope.”

  “The girl who’s not said a single word about you being a stuntman, who’s never asked you to stop trying to cripple yourself, who’s never said anything about Charlie except that she understands the promise you made.”

  “Are you trying to make me cry?”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  So they said nothing for about half an hour, just watched the rugby on the large TV at the other end of the bar.

  Eli started to feel as if someone had filed off his rough edges with sandpaper, but the alcohol wasn’t doing anything to help the heaviness in his heart. He knew in the morning he was going to have to face the too-loud music, but for now, he just wanted to forget.

  Forget Tabby sitting in front of him, running her soft hands over his upper body as she “surveyed” him. Forget the feel of her breasts in his hands when he undressed her in the makeup storage room. Forget the sight of her lying in the forest glade, dappled with sunlight, sighing as he pleasured her with his mouth.

  And forget the look of hurt in her eyes when she realized he wasn’t going to ask her to marry him.

  Shit. He got up and ordered another round, sat back down, and tried to concentrate on the game. But he kept thinking about her, and the disappointment he’d felt when she’d turned the stick over and he’d realized she wasn’t pregnant.

  He leaned forward and banged his head on the table.

  “What?”

  “She won’t leave me alone.” He picked up his glass, finished it off, and stood.

  “Hey, mate, slow down a bit.” Mick wasn’t even halfway through that current round. “I’m not carrying you all the way back to the beach house.”

  Eli ignored him and walked toward to the bar. The hour was growing late, and the place was beginning to get noisy. The Australian national team, the Wallabies, were beating the New Zealand All Blacks, and tempers were rising among the viewing men, especially as there were some Australians in the room.

  The Wallabies scored again as he neared the bar. The watching crowd of young men jostled and yelled, and a small fight broke out close to him. Eli tried to step around them, but his shoulder connected with one of the men, knocking him off balance.

  “Hey.” The young man turned.

  “Sorry,” Eli said without enthusiasm. The guy was about six inches shorter than him, with red hair, and wearing a Wallabies shirt. In times past, he would have enjoyed taking out his frustration in a pub brawl. Now, however, the last thing he wanted was an infantile scrap. He turned and walked back to Mick, hoping the bouncers would throw the idiots out. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Mick nodded and finished off his drink, stepping back as someone fell near their table. It was a young lad in an All Blacks shirt, and his face filled with fear as the redhead who’d challenged Eli approached him with raised fists.

  Eli glanced over his shoulder, but the bouncers were busy trying to break up a couple of men farther down the bar. Unable to completely throw off old habits, he moved forward and placed his hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. Enough’s enough.”

  The redhead shook him off and kicked the young guy on the floor hard enough to
make him double up and yell.

  “Hey.” Eli held his arm and turned him. “He’s only a kid. Take it out on someone your own size.”

  Mick sighed. “Eli…”

  The redhead squared his shoulders. “You looking for trouble?”

  “Actually, I wasn’t, but I’m not going to stand here while you beat this kid to death.”

  “And what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

  In answer, Eli grabbed two fistfuls of the guy’s shirt and propelled him through the bar and out the door, throwing him onto the ground.

  The Aussie scrambled to his feet, and five of his mates came tumbling out of the bar, clearly looking for trouble.

  Mick appeared at his side. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “He started it.” Eli held up his hands. “Come on, fellas, why don’t you just move on? The cops’ll be here any second.”

  The redhead approached him with no sign of having heard him. He stank of beer, and his eyes had the bloodlust that Eli knew meant he wasn’t going to back down. The other man drew back his arm, but Eli was an old hand at this. He’d already widened his stance, and his fist met the redhead’s chin with a satisfying crack.

  His mates moved forward with a roar.

  “Madeleine’s going to kill me,” Mick said before joining in with a punch to the nearest contender.

  Fists flew, and with every punch that connected with his body, Eli welcomed the pain, feeling it overtake his emotional grief bit by bit. Only when someone broke a bottle did he realize it had gone too far. A brawl was one thing—disfiguration was something else, especially for two men who made their living on film.

  Mick went down, and Eli grabbed his assailant by the jacket and heaved him off, standing protectively over his friend’s body.

  “Not so fucking smart now, are you, asshole?” said the redhead.

  Eli glanced over at the bar door, but there was still no sign of the bouncers.

  The redhead held the broken bottle before him like a weapon. There was blood all over his face, but he was obviously made of sterner stuff than he looked. He waved the bottle, and three of his friends closed in around him.

  Eli kept his weight on his toes. His head felt clear. In the background, he heard the first wail of sirens, but he knew they wouldn’t get there on time.

  Sorry, Tabbs.

  “Come on, sunshine,” he said. “Do your best. But I swear, there’s no way a fucking lightweight like you is going to beat me in a fight.”

  The redhead let out a strangled yelp and plunged forward, and Eli braced himself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tabby awoke with a start and looked at the clock. It read two in the morning, and darkness shrouded the bedroom. She sat up and ran a hand over her face. Her eyes were swollen and sore from all the crying, and she felt bone-weary.

  Part of her weariness was due to the phone call she’d had that evening. She’d been upset from the argument with Eli, distraught about the fact that they’d brought things to an end. And then her mother had called.

  “What’s up, Mom?” Tabby wished she’d had the forethought to turn the phone off.

  “I can’t get hold of Lisa. Your dad keeps getting up and going out the front door. I was in the bathroom just now, and when I came out he was halfway down the road.” She started to cry.

  Tabby pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and took several deep breaths. This was the last thing she needed, but her mother hadn’t known what a terrible day she’d had. “I’m so sorry, I wish there was something I could do. But I’m over eight thousand miles away.”

  “Family responsibilities don’t end when we go on holiday,” Delia snapped. “I need you, Tabby. I know you think I’m being pathetic and manipulative, but can’t you see I really need you? Lisa’s got her own family—she doesn’t have the time to help.”

  “I have my own life, too.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re single and jobless. You need to find yourself a man, get a couple of kids under your belt, buy a house, and settle down.”

  Tabby bit her lip. She wasn’t going to argue about this now. She had to find a solution to the current problem before her poor father left the stove gas on and blew them both up or something similar. “Look, why don’t you call that number I gave you and see if they have a health nurse who can help temporarily?”

  “I don’t want a nurse, I want my daughter.” Delia yelled the last part.

  Tabby burst into tears.

  For a moment, Delia was silent. Tabby continued to sob, her heart sinking into her shoes. Why was everything going wrong?

  Eventually, Delia spoke. “What’s up, sweetie?”

  The sympathy in her mother’s voice brought new tears, and another half a minute passed before Tabby could say a word. “I’ve had a fight with Eli.” She’d told her mother a little about him a few days before, although she hadn’t gone into detail.

  “What happened?”

  Tabby gave her a brief explanation, including the bit about how they’d thought she might be pregnant. “I’m not, by the way,” she added at the end.

  “Did you want to be?”

  “I…” Tabby’s voice trailed off. “I don’t know. At the moment I took the test, he hadn’t said he loved me. I knew he’d bought a ring, but he hadn’t proposed. I do want a family. I’d like to get my studies done first, but one day…” Tears filled her eyes again. It was too late—her relationship with Eli was over. She’d made sure of that after their conversation on the beach. Sadness made her sag where she sat on the bed.

  “He’ll come around,” Delia said. “You’re too special to let go, love. He’ll see that.”

  “He won’t,” Tabby sobbed. “He’s going to LA.”

  “Something will turn up, you’ll see. Maybe when you get back from the UK, you’ll be able to sort something out.” It was the first time Delia had admitted Tabby was going.

  A little of the weight pressing on Tabby’s heart seemed to lift after that. Delia had agreed to ring the number of the health nurse to ask for some temporary assistance, and Tabby had thanked her, grateful that her mother finally seemed to understand how much she needed to go to London before she returned home to settle down.

  She’d hung up feeling better about her relationship with her mother, but it hadn’t solved the ache in her chest as she thought about Eli. Nor the ache that was beginning in her abdomen. She hadn’t wanted to get pregnant, but when she’d thought she might be, she’d been surprised how excited it had made her feel. And now those shining future possibilities had been snuffed out like a row of candles, leaving her in the dark.

  He hadn’t really wanted her. She didn’t believe his insistence that he had been going to ask her to marry him whatever the outcome of the test. He’d only wanted to Do the Right Thing. Kind, gentlemanly Eli, who hadn’t been able to bear the thought of knocking a girl up and leaving her to fend for herself. But as soon as he’d discovered she wasn’t pregnant, he’d backed off. He’d never meant to get involved with her. He was fond of her, but he’d never wanted their relationship to turn serious.

  It made her want to cry.

  She wondered where he was. Had they come back yet? She might not have heard them if she was in a deep sleep.

  Wiping her face, she went to the doorway and hesitated. She didn’t want to see him again, not at the moment. But she did she want to know he was all right. Mick had gone off to look for him, and he’d been gone several hours when Madeleine had bullied her into bed.

  She padded down the hallway to the living room and saw Madeleine over by the window. “They’re not back yet, then?”

  Madeleine jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around. “Geez, you scared me. It’s so quiet out here. I miss the sounds of the city.” She turned back to the view of the sea, lit like a sheet of silver in the moonlight. “No sign of them yet.”

  Tabby walked over to join her. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

  “They’re probably well on the way
to finishing a bottle of whisky by now.” She smiled. “They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves.” She turned from the window. “How are you feeling?”

  “A bit better.”

  They sat at opposite ends of the sofa. Madeleine studied her. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “I go back to the States, visit my parents, and then go to London.”

  A frown marred Madeleine’s brow. “Is that it for you and Eli? Do you think you’ll meet up again when you return to the States?”

  “I doubt it. He’ll be in LA, I’ll be in New York. It’s possible, but come on, Madeleine, do you really think he’s still going to be single in a year’s time?”

  Madeleine shrugged. “Maybe. He’s fallen pretty hard for you. I don’t think he’s going to get over you quickly.”

  Tabby’s throat tightened, and she turned her head to look out at the sea. Part of her wanted to hate him, but it wasn’t his fault, not really. Even if he had proposed when the test was negative, what difference would it have made? They’d conjured up a problem with no easy solution, a Rubik’s Cube of a relationship. They hadn’t been tricked into it, or dragged kicking and screaming. They’d taken it on willingly, with open eyes. They had only themselves to blame. And they were both dealing with the hurt the way they knew how.

  “He loves you, you know.” Madeleine’s voice was gentle.

  Tabby thought of his passionate declaration on the beach. “I know.” While she was talking to her mother, she’d felt so certain his assertion that he was going to propose was just a cop-out to make her feel better, but now she wasn’t so sure. The ring—even the baby—weren’t really the issues here. The problem was geographical. He’d been genuinely torn in two, and she’d been unfair to him when she’d accused him of not loving her enough to break his promise to Charlie, when she was so determined she wasn’t going to give up her own dreams. The memory of her words made her cringe now, and fresh tears pricked her eyes.

 

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