Reprise (Ruby Riot #3)

by Lisa Swallow

  “Nothing.” I grip the wine bottle in both hands; this way I can convince myself he can’t hold my hand or hug me and not that he doesn’t want to. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure. Later? I’m not in the mood for heavy discussions right now. I think we had enough recently.”

  I swallow down the rising lump. “Right. Are you definitely okay about us arriving together? I think maybe we should—”

  “Yeah.” Nate turns away and buzzes the intercom.

  “Leave telling people,” I say quietly as the gate swings open and he heads down the path.

  I’m friendly with Tegan, but we’re not close. The first few months we worked together, she was new to her relationship with Jax and preoccupied enough with him not to involve herself in a close friendship. Tegan’s independence and travelling leaves her with a couple of childhood friends, and she’s wary of new people who want to befriend her, now she’s married to Jax.

  We drifted further when Tegan moved accounts at the firm, and became involved with different clients. We never moved from more than acquaintances. My reticence to become involved in people’s lives, or they in mine, waters down friendships. With her connections to the band, there was no way I could be close with Tegan anyway.

  Tegan and Jax’s new place is a period house in the very expensive and star-filled suburb, Primrose Hill. I’m envious; I wish I lived somewhere beautiful and closer to the city, but the house prices are sky high and out of my reach. My house in Barnet suits Josh and me. I saved hard for a deposit and mortgage on the place, and I count finding us somewhere of our own to live as one of my greatest successes.

  The pair are hot on security. The early vitriol targeted at Tegan drops as time passes; the fans have accepted her, but the press still haunt their every move. Now she works in PR, Tegan has learnt to control her impulsive responses to the media and laughs off every pregnancy and breakup story.

  The lack of press outside is weird; news of the party and guest list not public knowledge yet. Something else Nate and me will need to decide: how public and when. Although Lauren’s right, the media will choose to tell the world about us, whether it’s true or not.

  Rumours flew after the snowed-in situation anyway. Nate doesn’t care; last week he made a flippant comment about the press presuming he’s in a relationship with every girl he screws, which pushed in an uncomfortable reminder of the Nate from before.

  Tegan invited me tonight. If Ruby Riot attend any of her frequent parties, it’s an automatic no from me. Time to surprise her, in more ways than one. The noise of partygoers spills from the house; a lot of guests equal less attention over our arrival.

  I hope.

  Tegan answers the door, face flushed and covered in a huge smile. As usual, she’s dressed down but beautiful. I come across a lot of attractive people in my work, and Tegan’s beauty is natural and understated. Gifted with the Hughes good looks, she’s in high demand as she’s also a rock star’s wife, and fashion houses throw clothes at her to wear. One higher end, High Street fashion label asked her to model as the face of a new collection, but she refused. Occasionally she dresses up in designer labels for a premiere or awards ceremony and looks incredible as her height and slender frame favours their designs.

  I brace myself for Tegan’s reaction to the pair of us on her doorstep, but her expression doesn’t change. “Hey!” she says. “Did you arrive at the same time?” She pokes Nate. “We expected you an hour ago.”

  Nate doesn’t respond and glances at me. I return Tegan’s smile and hold up the bottle of wine. “I brought wine.”

  “Silly. We have plenty.” She waves her hand. “Come in.”

  The large hallway smells of fresh paint, and newly restored wooden floors shine. I follow Tegan to the kitchen and when I look behind, Nate hangs back pretending to examine a picture on the wall. I knew it. Coward.

  Breathing in and out to release my disappointment, I add my wine bottle to the row on the gleaming kitchen counter. Tegan busies herself opening the wine and selecting a glass for me. The world is fuzzy and I’m more relaxed than I should be. Not good. I glance around for a soft drink.

  “Here.” Tegan pours a glass of white and holds it out. I take it.

  The doorbell rings and Tegan almost drops the bottle. “Be right back!”

  I rest against the granite counter in the huge kitchen and sip my wine. How many people are attending this party? The music and voices in the large room I passed as we entered suggests there are already a few here.

  Nate appears in the doorway, jacket unzipped, and spiked hair mussed from wearing his hood up earlier. His brow is lowered, mouth pursed. Jesus, this man, hot even when he’s giving me a pissed-off look. Always was.

  “Beers?” he asks in a gruff voice.

  I point at the double sink filled with ice and bottles; he approaches and grabs one. “Thanks.”

  Nate flicks off the top with a bottle opener, then swigs, looks at me for a few seconds, then heads back towards the door.

  “Wow…” I mutter.

  “Wow, what?” Nate snaps and turns.

  “I thought we came here together.”

  “So did I.”

  “Then why not say something to Tegan?”

  He makes a low sound in his throat. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because…” I have no answer to that. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t blame me, then. How am I supposed to know what you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know how you want to do this, Nate.”

  “Uh. Walk in there together.” He indicates the lounge we passed with his bottle. “Considering we couldn’t stand to be in the same room a few weeks ago, I think that might give them a clue.”

  I sigh. “Communication, Nate.”

  He approaches and looks down. My heart skips as he fixes me with the open look he did in Yorkshire, and runs his rough thumb across my bottom lip. “I missed you this week.” His words surge relief through me as he rests his lips briefly on mine. “I don’t give a shit about anybody’s reaction. My life is my own. Since when do I care what anybody thinks?”

  “Right. Same. Don’t give a crap.”

  He grins. “As always.”

  Nate moves to one side, and my resulting view of the kitchen doorway includes Tegan. She blinks at us, eyes widening as the penny drops.

  “Oh. So you didn’t bump into each other on the way in?”

  “No.” Nate and me say the word almost at the same time, and I nudge him in the side with my elbow.

  He crosses his arms. “Nice place you bought, Tegan.”

  Tegan’s surprised lines break into an excited smile. “Thank you! I’ll give you a tour later.”

  “No, thanks. Is my brother around? Need to talk to him.”

  “I’ll take a tour,” I say in an attempt to smooth over Nate’s abruptness. “I’d love to see the place. This is amazing, Tegan.”

  “Isn’t it? I love the original features.” She indicates the ornate cornices and the art deco light hanging in the centre of the kitchen. “And wait until you see upstairs! We had an interior designer help…”

  Nate mutters something and rests against the counter beside me, drinking, as Tegan continues to enthuse about her new home. To be honest, I have no interest in where she bought her rugs and what constitutes the best quality fabrics for furnishings, but I nod in the right places.

  The only thing on my mind right now is walking into a room full of people with Nate.

  “Tegan, show me the lounge room,” I say. If I walk in with both of them, we can have a quiet word with who we’d like, the minimum number of people.

  “Drawing room!” she says with a giggle. “Sure thing! I’m so happy you came, I haven’t seen you for weeks.” She toasts her wine glass against mine.

  The doorbell rings again.

  “Oh! Two secs. I’ll be right with you.” Tegan gives me a gentle shove towards wide-open, stained-glass-panelled double doors.

 
I hesitate.

  “Come on. I hate hanging around kitchens at parties.” Nate wraps an arm around my shoulder and pivots me in the direction of the noise. He’s right though, what business is this to anybody in the room?

  Because he’s Nate Campbell and if anybody’s judged, it’ll be “stupid Riley.”

  My hope the room is filled with people who won’t notice new guests is dashed. Will, at the opposite end of the room, beneath a framed Ruby Riot tour poster, immediately spots his brother and waves. In a classic Will and Nate move, his wave stops dead in the air as he stares at Nate’s arm around me.

  Will points between us mouthing. “You two?”

  Frozen in the moment, I don’t see Nate’s reaction, but I hear Will’s next words with excruciating, crystal clarity.

  “Dude! I knew it! Why didn’t you tell me you were screwing Riley? I asked you enough times!”

  Heads turn, equal numbers of surprised and amused expressions hit me. Worse still, I know half of these people professionally. I can’t move or I’d beat a retreat to the kitchen.

  “Will. Shut your mouth or I’ll kick your drunk arse!” Nate calls back.

  Sure, the room is larger than average, but their conversation is at a volume suited to a bloody concert hall. Fleur pushes past a couple of people, her distinctive blonde hair visible amongst the groups as she grabs Will’s arm.

  “Ohmigod, I don’t believe it. I mean the shit you’ve said about her in—” He stops abruptly and looks down at Fleur. “What?”

  Fleur and Will have a muttered conversation and Will gestures at Nate and me.

  “Wait there,” Nate says and shoves his way through the partygoers until he reaches his brother. I sidestep against the wall, but tip my chin upwards and meet the curious onlookers’ eyes, despite wanting to crawl behind the large leather sofa. Most turn back to their conversations, show over, and I alternate my focus on Tegan’s beloved cornices and the cherished, admittedly beautiful, rugs.

  Coming here tonight was a stupid idea.

  I have one option as far as I’m concerned. I drain my glass and head back to the kitchen for another. With shaking hands, I pour a generous serve and slump down onto a kitchen chair.

  Will. Why did he need to be such an asshole?

  A tall guy with a crew cut, who I thankfully don’t recognise and won’t be forced to talk to, heads over to the stack of alcohol with two empty glasses. We both look away as we catch each other’s eyes.

  “You okay?” asks Tegan as she appears and sits opposite me. “Did you want another drink?”

  I look up in surprise then at my glass. Crap. Emptied again. How did that happen? “Uh. I think I’ve had enough.”

  “It’s a party!” Wine sloshes into my glass and I vow not to drink this one as Tegan enthusiastically slurps hers.

  “Will’s subtlety never fails to amaze me,” I mutter.

  “You know what he’s like when he’s drunk. Fleur will shut him up. She and Nate will, anyway.”

  “I know, but I wanted a more subtle introduction to the fact I’m with Nate.” Tegan’s silence and attempt to hide her disbelief says everything. “Yes, we’re together. Don’t look like that.”

  “You don’t expect everybody to be surprised?”

  “Yes, I do, but there’s casually mentioning our situation to a few people and there’s… that. Will.”

  Tegan pours herself a glass and shuffles closer. “How?” she whispers. “This is crazy. What happened?”

  “Four days stuck in the same building happened.”

  “And other things I presume.” Tegan smiles slyly. “I always knew you guys would get together again.”

  “We were never together before. Not really. And we’re not together properly now.”

  “Yeah, right. Nate came here with you. Nate Campbell who holds people at arms’ length, not around their shoulders. There was always something weird between you both though. Right from when I first met you.” I don’t reply. “Admit it.”

  “I guess…”

  Tegan pushes me. “I can’t believe you waited two years. You’re idiots.”

  “We hated each other, Tegan.”

  “Two years obsessing about each other rather than letting how you feel go? Call it hate if you want; I call it unresolved business.” She arches a brow. “Which you’ve clearly resolved.”

  I blow air into my cheeks and my drunk mouth spills words I wouldn’t. “More than once. Often.”

  Tegan giggles. “Good, then?”

  “God, yes.” Why did I decide to drink before I came here tonight? “You know. Like mind-melting, bloody amazing, addictive.”

  “Ah. Yeah, I gotcha. Changes a girl’s mind about a guy, doesn’t it?” She smiles to herself and drinks. “That’s worth hanging onto.”

  I bite my lip. “Sorry, ignore me. A bit drunk.”

  “I bet you two are explosive,” says Tegan with a giggle, then puts a hand over her mouth. “Inappropriate.”

  I twist the wine glass in my hand. Ah, what the hell, I finish the contents. “I bet this is usually the other way around. Nate talking about his conquests.”

  “I doubt anybody could conquer you.”

  I bite my lip at her opinion. Right, but so wrong. “Are you and Jax coming to the charity gala next weekend?”

  “Is that the Cole Daniels one? You bet!”

  “This is the biggest thing I’ve worked on. I’m really nervous.”

  Tegan’s brows shoot up. “I’ve never heard you say that before. Is this the wine talking? You’ll be absolutely fine!”

  “I know…”

  “I totally understand, but at least you’re not doing everything on your own. That hot American guy I met the other night is helping, right?”

  “Mitchell? Cole’s his client.”

  “Ah. Well, he’ll have as much under control as you. He seems the type.”

  “What type?’

  “Riley type.”

  “He is not my type!” I protest.

  Tegan giggles. “Obviously, since you’re with Nate. I meant he seems the in control, confident, take no crap type.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I smile. “He’s relaxed compared to me, which probably helps.”

  Tegan stands. “You’ll kill it! The gala will be amazing. I’m excited, especially as people there will be more famous than me, and I can relax and be left alone.”

  I shake my head at her words. “An advantage, definitely.”

  Tegan holds out a hand. “Forget about work and come back into the party with me.”

  “You’ve invited half of the London celebrity crowd, Tegan. Some of them are agency clients. I’m mortified.”

  “And most of them don’t care. Seriously. Don’t stress about it.” Tegan beckons me to take her hand. “This isn’t like you. Come on.”

  I allow her to pull me to my feet.

  “Top your wine up.” She fills my glass to the brim. “Let’s go.”

  I pull on my confident stance and walk in poised, ready to deal with Will if his drunken mouth shoots off again. I’m not a big drinker, and I’ve had enough now to guarantee I’ll give Will a mouthful in return if he continues his dickish behaviour.

  Tegan’s right. Aside from a couple of glances, most are too busy with themselves, than bothered about seeing Nate and a girl. Not exactly an unusual situation, and only a few people know mine and Nate’s background; I’m overthinking. I follow Tegan to the group in the corner, where Jax has now joined the twins and Fleur.

  “Hey, Smiley!” says Jax.

  “Jax.” The stern tone to Tegan’s voice is accompanied by an apologetic look from Jax sent in my direction.

  “You okay?” Nate asks me.

  “Fine.” I stare straight at Will.

  “Sorry, Riley,” says Will in a low voice, looking up at me beneath his fringe. His eyes reassure me he’s drunk; I’d be furious if the earlier performance was a sober Will.

  “That’s okay,” I lie.

  “I know, but seriously… y
ou two? This is messing with my head,” he continues to Nate.

  I startle as Nate takes my hand and Will’s expression shifts from confusion to what I’d uncomfortably term as horror. His voice rises again. “What is this? Are you together together or just shagging?”

  “Will…” growls Nate.

  “You and parties!” snaps Fleur and grabs Will’s bare arm. “Come and sit with me.”

  “But look,” he gestures at us. “Riley. Seriously? I need to know. Dude, spill. I get you probably hooked up with her on your winter retreat but what’s happening?”

  “I’m warning you, Will. Shut your mouth,” says Nate.

  Will stumbles as Fleur tugs him by the arm in the direction of the kitchen.

  My reason for avoiding the band in Newcastle sharpens, and stabs.

  Nate drops my hand and slides an arm around my waist. Jax watches and I ready myself for a similar comment to Will, but he stays quiet. Is he as shocked by the surreality of this as I am?

  “Enjoying the break from touring, Nate?” asks Tegan.

  “Kinda.”

  “We stayed with my family while the new place was renovated,” she replies.

  “Yeah.”

  Her attempt to diffuse the situation is admirable, but Nate’s short answers and dark expression will take more than small talk to change.

  “How’s Bryn?” I ask Tegan.

  “What does that mean?” Jax frowns.

  “Nothing. Just asking after him. Jeez.”

  “Jax is tetchy about my brother. Still.”

  “He’s still weird with me.”

  “He isn’t!”

  “Yeah? He cornered me and threw twenty questions about Courtney fucking Adams. After two years and he still believes what the press say?”

  Tegan squeezes his hand. “This is Bryn you’re talking about, Jax. He wrote the book on overprotective brothers.” Tegan lifts her head high and sips from her wine glass. “Well, I invited Courtney tonight, to stick my middle finger up at her and the press.”

  “What the hell? Don’t tell me she’s here,” asks Jax and scans the guests. “The lies that bitch told about me and her! Why, Tegan?”

  “I just said why.”

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Jax’s voice rises.

  “I did. And if nothing happened with her, what’s the big deal?” Tegan and Jax stand head to head, and I’ve known Tegan long enough to know when her sobriety’s lacking and how her mouth tends to run away with her.