She's the One
Page 31
“Do you mind? Because that would be great.” He laid on his best smile. He could call Ruby ahead to get her to keep Lydia at the house – if she was there still.
“Of course not. The least I can do. Do you think the press will realise who your special lady is?”
“I hope not. But they might go to my sister’s anyway.”
“Let’s get a move on then. I have a car waiting outside.”
As the car sped to London Heliport, Steve quickly text Ruby to check whether Lydia was still at the house and to say he was on his way. Relief waved over him momentarily when Ruby instantly replied back.
“Yes she’s here. I’ll do everything I can to keep her here. Ruby x”
But he wasn’t out of the mire yet. He wouldn’t feel happy until he’d spoken to Lydia.
Inside the helicopter, which Steve kept calling a chopper, sounding so American – too much of The A-Team as a kid – he wanted to close his eyes. He’d had such a hectic day in London, this chat show being the last one. He’d had other interviews and commitments – all the pluses of being famous, not. It wasn’t just one show a day, it was as many as you can squeeze in. Karl had lined them up. He’d done daytime TV, radio, a magazine interview. His schedule today had been tight; he’d been alert and bombarded constantly with questions, and now his body demanded rest.
How had he been so stupid not to realise the microphones would still be on?
Would Lydia forgive him? He was going to ask her to marry him one day, he even considered popping the question soon to convince Lydia he wanted her in his life for good, but he’d needed to win her back first, and he certainly didn’t expect them to rush into marriage.
Lola had let Steve close his eyes for some of the flight, realising he was exhausted. But he hadn’t actually slept – impossible inside a noisy helicopter. Closing his eyes had at least stopped the dry, itchiness of his eyelids wanting to close, allowing him to recharge his batteries. The helicopter landed at Filton and there was a car waiting for him. Lola had taken charge and got her people to organise everything. He’d been too dazed and tired, plus with the time difference in LA he hadn’t been sure if he’d get hold of Marie or not. He thanked Lola profusely, and they’d agreed to keep in touch, celebrity style.
“I want a wedding invitation,” Lola said, winking. He laughed, and waved, leaving her at the airport to refuel and head up to Manchester.
The car pulled up outside their family house, Ruby’s home. The curtains were drawn, but the lights were on. So far no press hounds were stalking outside.
Would Lydia still be there? Would Ruby have managed to make her stay?
As he opened the passenger door, he surveyed the street and recognised Lydia’s car. He told the driver to wait. He had an urge to send him away, but if things fell apart, he might need the ride, or a quick getaway. The man could hold on for a few more minutes. He’d get paid for his time. The driver nodded, and grabbed a newspaper from the glovebox.
Steve, taking a deep lungful of cold air to calm his nerves, strode towards the front door. Moment of truth. Would Lydia be his leading lady?
***
Ruby jumped when she heard the knock at the door. She sat alone on the sofa, Lydia was upstairs in the bathroom. After Steve’s text, Ruby had done her best to keep Lydia here, even opening another bottle of wine, but she really was ready to go home now. It was coming close to midnight.
Would it be the press or Steve? Or had Lydia already called the taxi?
She was expecting Steve, hoped it would be, but who could tell? With what had been broadcast on national TV, the tabloids were probably going bananas for front-page news. And they knew where to come.
Deciding to err of the side of caution, before opening the front door, she used the old chain, sliding it across.
Maybe she should keep Steve’s old cricket bat by the door in future, in case Terence ever reappeared.
Her hands trembled as she hesitantly opened the door, her heart hammering nineteen to the dozen. Immediately, she recognised Steve and squealed. She closed the door, ramming the chain back, then wrenched the door open, to throw herself around him.
“Oh, thank God, you made it.”
“Good to see you too, Roo. So,” he looked at her, fear in his expression, “is Lydia here?”
“I’m here.”
***
Lydia was halfway down the stairs, when she saw Ruby hugging Steve by the front door. Her insides jolted – part pleasure for seeing him in the flesh, part fear for knowing what to say, how to react. He lied to me, remember? Ruby released her hold on her brother and he entered the house.
“I’ll go put the kettle on,” she said, walking into the kitchen. Lydia heard the door close. She didn’t move.
“Hey,” Steve said, smiling, also motionless.
“Hi,” Lydia replied, unable to engage her brain to say something more coherent. God, she didn’t know if she wanted to scream at him, or kiss him.
“You saw the show, right?” He still had his American accent. He wasn’t disguising it. He stepped towards the bottom of the stairs, hesitantly.
Lydia moved down, only one step as she nodded.
“I’m sorry about the marriage thing. It wasn’t supposed to be broadcast. It was a mistake.” He edged closer tentatively. “I mean, I do want to marry you, but I don’t think we’re ready for that. Lydia, I want you in my life…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers combing his slightly longer hair. “I wanted you to watch the show to see the song, to remember what we had, in the hope you’d forgive me, answer my calls and we could get back on track. I really would like to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“How can I believe that?” She wrung her hands. “I mean, I’m so…ordinary.”
“You are far from ordinary. You are beautiful.” He stepped towards her, but read the fear in her expression because he stopped, leaving one foot on the bottom step. “Lydia, please…” He held out a hand. “Ruby explained didn’t she? I was never going to find someone with my fame clinging to me like a bad smell. You would never have relaxed in my company, been yourself…”
“I know.”
“I hate the way you found out. I was going to tell you that day – I know I should have told you sooner – I was trying to find the right moment.” He looked her in the eye. “Lydia, I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
God, she needed to think of something better than, ‘I know’.
Her eyes prickled, tears wanting to fall. Were they due to happiness or sadness or both? Now he stood before her in the flesh, after weeks of daydreaming and remembering his handsome face, her emotions were overwhelming. She swallowed then took a deep breath to gain control.
She moved another step down, only five more steps to take. Suddenly, breaking the tension, she heard clattering in the kitchen and swearing. Ruby. Steve softly chuckled, hearing the commotion too and rolled his eyes, pulling a face at Lydia. The one he always made when Ruby was throwing a strop. She let out a giggle, cupping her mouth with her hand. A single tear escaped, trickling down her cheek. He was the same guy who had made her laugh over the past three months.
***
Steve didn’t know what to do or say. On tenterhooks, he could only wait and be patient, and watch Lydia’s hesitation. His heart pounded with nerves inside his chest. Standing in front of Lydia right now would mean winning or losing. If he could physically see a directional fork in his road, his fate, it was right here, now. Either he would be spending the rest of his life with Lydia, or without her…
If Lydia chose to be with him, he promised himself, and he would promise her, he’d do everything in his power to make things right, to make things special between them. He would show her every single day how much he loved her.
He wanted Lydia and no one else.
He would not fail her.
In that moment of tension, his sister banged about in the kitchen and swore in true Ruby style. Without thinking, Steve automatically rolled his ey
es, and made a face that said, “Trust Ruby.” And with that silly expression, Lydia had giggled,
***
Lydia rushed down the last few stairs, and launched herself into Steve’s open arms. His lips found hers and he was the same man kissing her as before. His touch was identical. And she’d missed it. She pressed her whole body into his, so that as much of her touched him as possible.
“I’ve missed you,” she said breathily, between his kisses. He even smelt the same. His stubble gently grazed her chin. She cupped his face, feeling the roughness. He always used to be cleanly shaven. Now his designer stubble was intriguing as the softness of her palms felt the scratching bristles.
“Ruby used to nag me to shave – sometimes three times a day!” He laughed.
“Yes, you used to be quick to remove it even when you stayed over,” Lydia said, still stroking his face, her eyes remaining on his. “I realise why now. You do look more like him.”
“I am him.”
“And where are the glasses?”
Steve chuckled, wiping dry Lydia’s cheek. “I don’t need glasses – yet. There wasn’t a prescription in them, they were plain glass.”
She kissed his lips, intoxicated, closing her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her body, up her shoulder blades, pulling her tighter to his body, sighing with the touch.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone gravely and sexy, sending a warm fuzz to her core. “Does this mean you’ll come with me?”
Lydia remained hesitant. It was such a leap. She realised she’d stepped away from him, unconsciously.
He looked up at her
“Please, don’t make me beg. I’ll get down on one knee.”
“But what about marriage? It feels all of a sudden.”
“We’ll have a long engagement – it’ll keep the press happy.” He reached out and gently stroked her hair, enticing her back to him.
“Oh, heavens,” Lydia mumbled.
“Hey, hey,” he tucked a finger under her chin and made her look up, “it’ll be fine. I promise.”
Ruby burst out of the kitchen. “So, do I open the champagne to celebrate, or do I make tea to commiserate?”
Steve took Lydia’s hand and squeezed it.
“Champagne,” Lydia said. “Definitely the champagne. I’m going with Steve.”
Ruby hugged them both enthusiastically, too enthusiastic as she almost winded Lydia. “Great, great! Phew! Right where’s my best crystal?”
“Actually, hold the champagne for now. We’d better go, Roo,” Steve said, shaking his head. “The press might be here any minute, and I do have a tight schedule. I hadn’t planned coming to Bristol, remember?”
Ruby’s expression dropped, like a scolded child.
“I’m sorry. I promise, I’ll be back, and we’ll drink champagne till we’re sick. But I can’t stay now.”
Lydia could see this was actually painful for the two of them. She held Steve’s hand, squeezing it. Seeing the faintness of unhappiness flash across his face, she wanted to be the support he required, and be the friend to Ruby.
“Ruby, I will make sure he returns – you have my word.”
“I’m so happy for you two.” Ruby’s eyes now glistened, trying to hold back tears. Ruby smiled forgivingly, and hugged her brother. “You’d better be back soon. And don’t leave it so long, ever!” She playfully nudged him with her fist.
“I’ll fly you out. You need to come see my place. Brett can come too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ruby said, then hugged Lydia. “Look after him for me. Make sure his head doesn’t disappear up his own arse.” Lydia laughed. “Or grow so big he can’t fit back on a plane.”
“Hey!” Steve grumbled then tugged Lydia’s hand. “Come on, Lydia, I want to take you home.” He hugged his sister goodbye again, whispering how much he loved her, then wrapping an arm around Lydia’s waist, they walked out of Ruby’s house together, united. Lydia was thankful there were no paparazzi. They left under the cover of the darkness of the night and into an unknown future together.
***
Wednesday 29th January
Steve relaxed contently into his seat, Lydia asleep beside him holding his hand. The stewards left them alone after leaving a blanket. Looking out the small porthole sized window on the aeroplane, the sky was dark.
Friday had not ended how he’d even imagined. He’d hoped Lydia would return his calls and they’d rekindle their friendship and love – he’d win her back. Maybe Lola had done him a favour, because he hadn’t dared dream of taking Lydia home with him. They’d had to organise tickets, and inform the visa waiver programme seventy-two hours prior to their flight, but here he was, flying back to LA with Lydia. It gave them ninety days to discuss their future, experience living together. It would allow Lydia to get used to Hollywood, and if she decided she liked it, they could make the necessary arrangements for her to stay permanently.
They’d left Ruby’s and gone back to Lydia’s to fetch her some things, manically packing her suitcase, throwing in the essentials she’d need.
When Kipper had appeared from his favourite warm spot in the second bedroom, there had been a few tears.
“It’s okay, Daphne will look after him, I’m sure,” Steve said. “She’ll spoil him rotten, and the company will be good for her.”
Steve had contemplated staying at Lydia’s but decided a hotel would be impersonal if the press showed up. He promised he’d take Lydia shopping and they’d arrange any belongings she wanted in LA to be transported. The rest would be put into storage, and her place rented out. They’d agreed that way she could return if she wanted to. If things didn’t work out.
But they would.
He stroked her hair, her head resting gently on his shoulder. Thank God she’d agreed. He hadn’t been sure what he would have done if she’d said no. Ever since that evening, knowing Lydia – and possibly the majority of the UK – had watched him say he wanted to marry his special person, he’d been on edge.
All that worry was for nothing.
He closed his eyes and daydreamed of setting up a studio for her in his apartment. There was room for a workspace where she could draw. His apartment boasted fantastic views of Los Angeles. Would they help inspire her, help her creativity? He couldn’t wait to start sharing his life, and its madness with her. He’d protect her as much as possible from the paparazzi. They’d grow tired trying to find gossip when there wasn’t any.
He was going to do anything and everything to make this work, make her see she hadn’t made a mistake.
He felt ecstatic. He enjoyed his career, and now he had someone to love, who would love him for the real person behind the Superman persona.
His life felt complete.
Now he just had to work out how to ask her to marry him properly.
Also by Teresa F. Morgan…
Plus One is a Lucky Number
Teresa F. Morgan
I live in sunny Weston-super-Mare, trying to hold onto my Surrey accent where I was born and bred. For years I persevered with boring jobs, until my two boys joined my nest. In an attempt to find something to work around them, and to ensure I never endured full time boredom again, I found writing. I am at my happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or creating a touch of escapism with heroes readers will fall in love with.
http://www.teresamorgan.co.uk/
@Teresa_Morgan10
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