by Corri Lee
“Okay, good. I asked Daniel to put something in the studio for you—”
“Daniel spoke to you and didn’t tell me?”
“—Focusing on the wrong part of that, Blaze. He put you something in there. A wedding present. I thought about keeping it for the big day but I think you’d feel a lot better if you had it now.”
“... Okay, you know what? I’m going to humour you. I’m walking up there right now, but I swear to God, if this is a box with a cat and gun powder inside, it’ll be the perfect metaphor for our relationship.”
“Less of the dramatics, nerd. Just get in the studio. By the way, I didn’t bother wrapping it. Figured that would just slow you down.”
“... Is it big?”
“Are you looking for hints? It’s in the same house as you—you’re about to get it. Why do you need hints to fill the whole half a minute of suspense?”
“... But is it? I’m, like, right outside the studio. Animal, vegetable or mineral?”
“At some point, it’s been all three. I think. Not sure about mineral; I’m not a science geek like some.”
“So it’s been an animal and a vegetable...”
“If you’re right outside, hurry up. It’s getting cold.”
“Why would it be—Shit! Emmeline?!”
When Blaze opened that door and saw me sitting on the lighting box table, he sure as hell didn’t waste any more time asking questions. He looked starved of me, desperately gripping on to what little hope he had left.
I’d expected him to jump on me, using sex as a means of reconnection. I should have known better—should have recalled the night at The Roses when I returned from New York and he’d just wanted to lay with me. Maybe I just wanted him to start nailing me because it was better than the alternative.
He walked right up to me, stopping a step away, just out of reach. Before I could come up with any witty repartee, he collapsed at my feet and wept, clinging to my ankles to anchor us both.
It was the most heartbreaking thing I’d ever seen, but it was okay. I knew that there would never be a distance between us again, and I knew that I wouldn’t let us fall apart. I’d lived with my hidden secrets and lies for a long time. I could live with one more if it kept Blaze’s eyes dry.
I couldn’t let our relationship fail. The balance couldn’t be tipped. The ends had to justify the means.
“That tan, though.” An envious hand brushed against my arm. Jonathan had been admiring my golden sheen since the minute he’d seen me walk through the doors of the super-modern sushi joint Blaze and I had found during our last stay in Cardiff. Daniel had been given the choice of cuisine—a privilege won through the fast-thinking that got Blaze caught in traffic long enough for me to make a hurried way from Cardiff airport to the house—and he always chose Japanese food.
They’d arranged to meet us a couple of hours after our reunion, conveniently giving us enough time to, um... reconcile some unfinished business. Halfway through a post-coital coffee, Chris had arrived at the house to join us.
There was no sign of Esme.
“She’ll be here,” Blaze promised me, squeezing my leg underneath the table. He spoke with vehemence but his accompanying smile lacked conviction. I’d really screwed up and I still didn’t know what impact it made on her life. With the wedding and honeymoon just days away, and our very close departure to Chicago creeping in it’s wake, if I didn’t make amends with her now, would I ever get the chance?
“Jonathan is right, though.” Daniel’s hand took the same path as his partner’s, stroking elbow to wrist. “That tan. You’re probably at high risk of skin cancer now, but damn; you’ll be a pretty corpse.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Chris brought a tray of drinks from the bar at the same moment a pretty waitress kitted out in a royal purple kimono came with the meals. Daniel and I traded glances, expecting him to make some kind of crude gesture or inappropriate observation as soon as she left. To our utter disbelief, he didn’t so much as look at her.
“Um, hello?” I joked, knocking on his skull with my knuckles. “Don’t you want to take her on a moustache ride?”
“What?” He stared at me dumbly, not making any kind of mental note of all the hot girls serving tables. “None of the chicks in here deserve one.”
“Are you kidding me?” The dining room was crammed full of high hem lines, panty shots and pseudo-Japanese make-up. This was his idea of Heaven and he didn’t even know he was there. “Something’s wrong with you, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“ ‘Kay, whatever.”
His odd behaviour made my head hurt. This wasn’t a case of us just losing touch over the last few months, this was full-blown crazy by Chris standards. Something was seriously bugging him, and I had to know what it was. I couldn’t leave with loose ends in good conscience; I seemed to be on some kind of crusade.
“You’ve got that look about you. Haven’t seen it for a long time.”
Eyes still on Chris, I turned my ear toward Daniel. “What are you talking about?”
“When you were a kid, you used to see someone stressing out and assemble a plan to fix their problems. It’s your ‘everyone’s shit but my own’ look, which suddenly became ‘nobody’s shit but my own look’.”
“Uh...” Blood flooded in my cheeks, embarrassment forcing me down in my seat by a few inches.
“Don’t worry, it’s a good thing. You look like your old self again.”
“Hunter said something similar at the airport.” What he’d actually said is that I was acting like my old stupid, antagonistic self following a taunt about his super queer gladiator sandals, but who was going to call me out?
Jonathan and Blaze spat mouthfuls of food into their hands, Daniel dropped his smartphone into a glass of water, and Chris burst out laughing. Okay, he wasn’t completely broken. I honestly didn’t understand the shock until I reassessed what I’d said. I could have kicked myself.
“Oh, boy.”
“Hunter? Hunter Rosen?” Blaze’s raised voice brought the entire restaurant to silence. “You’ve been soaking up the rays with your ex?”
“Strictly speaking, Hunter and I have never been in a relationship, so he’s not my ex.” At that point, steam should have been piping out of Blaze’s ears. It seemed like a bad time to split hairs so I revised my approach. “Henry has been putting him up while things sort themselves out. I literally only found out he was living in the beach house yesterday morning.”
“He’s in one of Henry’s places? And he let you go out there?”
“I don’t think it was intentional. He just needed to—”
“Emmeline!” Room still deathly quiet except for the sounds of heavy breathing and suppressed giggles, I closed my mouth and bit my lip, fighting the urge to plea the case further. “Either that pompous prick has been living rent free in Henry’s property or he hasn’t. Has he?”
My eyes met my untouched plate. “He has.”
“Right.”
“He’s not there.” Blaze paused mid-turn, allowing me to continue. “He went back to Japan earlier. Siobhan’s pregnant.”
“Oh.” Blaze promptly sat down but still looked shaken by the new information until well after the rest of the diners had resumed their conversations like his outburst had never happened. If I’d been smarter, I would have told him I’d seen Hunter sooner. It was foolish to think he could have never found out, though part of me did hope.
“So what have you been doing without me?” Desperately, I tried to move the conversation on. We’d butt heads over Hunter later in our usual special way, but now wasn’t the time or place to dispute. “What needs finalising—who’s ass do I need to kick?”
“Ivy’s,” Daniel groaned. “You know what she’s like. We’ve barely been able to keep your little holiday under wraps. Trying to keep her calm is like trying to catch a fart in a colander.”
Yikes. How had I not taken my mother into consideration before I left? “Has it been awful?�
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“You wouldn’t believe. We managed to keep her in the dark until three days ago when she called your phone and one of the villa staff answered it, so she is doubly pissed.”
“Crap.” Blaze should have been the hard part, not the calm before the storm. “I guess I’m paying for dinner.”
The food was outrageously good, the wine even more so. It was dusk when we all staggered out and into taxis driven by men who gaped in awe was they drove up the illuminated driveway of our house. One pot of coffee, a bag of snacks and a DVD box set later, I was the only one left who hadn’t fallen asleep on a couch or beanbag.
The only light was a dim blue glow from the television. My mind drifted to thoughts of how the afternoon had been so fun, how good it was to be back with my loved ones...
And how hollow the victory felt. Life should have been perfect, yet I felt empty. What had going away really resolved?
Nothing. I’d just gained a few pounds and had some drugs pumped into me. Not a single thing was any different to when I’d left, only my outlook. The same results could have been achieved at home, without upsetting everyone.
“Penny for them.”
Looking down, I could see Blaze’s eyes twinkling in the semi-darkness. “You’re mad that I left.”
“I’m not mad because you left, cupcake. I’m mad because it got to the point where you had to leave.”
“So you’re mad that I left.”
He sighed, wriggled his leg free from under a tangle of Daniel and Jonathan’s, and pulled me to the other end of our massive lounge close to a new cabinet he’d filled with my geeky collectibles. I didn’t miss the fact that he’d set them all out in exactly the same places they’d been in my old flat. He always paid attention to smaller details like that, and it was those small courtesies that proved he loved me.
Making sure I was comfortable and settled in a deep-seated swivel armchair, he knelt down on the floor in front of it and rested his head in my lap. “When you leave, it always feels like I’m being punished or taught a lesson. That can be hard to swallow, but it’s a means to a more positive end, right? Sometimes I forget that you managed just fine before I came along. I needed reminding that you can look after yourself and I don’t need to be your watcher. You’re my gift, not my responsibility.”
“You really do say the most lovely things.”
“Ah hah. That seems like a good time to proposition you sexually.”
“Again?” Where did the guy find all his energy? It could have been a pent up tension situation, we hadn’t exactly been at it like rabbits for a while...
Not since the last night we’d spent in Cardiff. There had to be something in the water. It couldn’t possibly be that being back in the hometown we’d sought to escape made us happy...
Noise woke me the next morning, the same kind of racket that’d stir me when Blaze woke me up with breakfast in bed. But from the hoarse groan of, ‘what the fuck?’, I knew that he was still beside me before I’d even opened my eyes or reached for him.
A few seconds of eye rubbing later, I remembered that Daniel, Jonathan and Chris had stayed the night. Nice of them to help themselves to my kitchen. If there wasn’t a coffee sat on the breakfast bar with my name on it, I was fully prepared to raise hell.
My lazy aggression was scuppered by the sound of rich female laughter resonating through the house. Wide-eyed, I turned to Blaze and squeaked, “Esme?!”
“Why don’t you go and find out?” His big, smug smile said everything, really. His was the Cheshire Cat grin of a man who’d been in on a scheme and it had all gone exactly according to plan.
I rushed out, grabbing the first clothes I could lay my hands on. Bedraggled and wearing a Van Halen t-shirt with Blaze’s Spiderman lounge pants, I ran down to the ground floor level and tripped over my own feet on the last stair, landing myself into a surprisingly graceful forward roll at Esme’s feet.
She stared down at me, blinked once, and raised an eyebrow.
“Tah-dah?”
“Oh, Emmy.”
I’d heard that same resigned sigh of adoration many times before. “You still wuv me?”
“Of course I do, you tit. Here.”
I grabbed the hand she held out and pulled myself up from the floor. It felt like a lifetime since I’d last seen her, not less than a fortnight, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief to see her there now, still on my side after everything I’d done. They were all there; the people who knew the very rawest version of me the best. They would always be there.
Until I left. Just a few days, and I’d be off on our honeymoon. A few days after that and I’d be overseas for three months, and then out of the London for good. I’d rarely see any of them again.
“Emmy, are you crying?”
“I don’t wanna go to Chicago!” I tried to put as much humour into my heart breaking as I could, dropping back to my knees with my fists clenched, screaming, “No!” Joking aside, it hurt to imagine only having four days left with my friends when I’d only just gotten them back. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
“The shoes are designer, Emmeline Elizabeth. You snot on ‘em, you pay for ‘em.”
“Designer?” Wiping a half-theatrical tear, I gaped up from her ankles in awe. The only times Esme ever cared about getting anything on her shoes, called me by my full name or wore actual bone fide designer pumps, were the times she needed to wow with everything but her face. “You’ve had an interview?”
“Yes, though if you hadn’t pussied off to Greece, you’d already know that, and if you weren’t still snivelling over my pumps, I’d be elaborating now.”
A hint was a hint. For the second time, Esme held out a hand and helped me to my feet, while my mind did cartwheels over the last couple of minutes.
And yet the first question I asked, of all the possibilities, was—
“I was in Greece?”
“How did you not know that?”
“Tudor Special Services? Super secret car-shuffling fun, windows blacked out on both sides and Roman frontier escort ninja shit, right?”
“You know what I hate?”
“Umm...” The list was endless, really. My over-active imagination, my tendency to end a sentence with a question if I was pushing the conversational limits of sanity. Pleather. “That what I just said is totally outrageous and unrealistic, and yet it’s a perfectly reasonable suggestion when considering the absurdity and almost fictional quality of my life?”
“Yes.” Obviously. “But what I hate even more is that you look bloody gorgeous for someone who had a complete mental breakdown. Tell me that tan is all real and I’ll eat my hat.”
I caught sight of my face in the pristinely polished silver fridge door and felt my cheeks turn a bashful pink. Though hardly few and far between, I’d always struggled to accept a compliment, much less believe in it’s sincerity or agree with it. Bizarrely, I looked at myself now and I did think she had a point. The curves Blaze had carved into me with his fussing were back and my skin was downright radiant. If it was even possible, I might have looked even better than ever.
“Seems kind of unreal that you’ve rounded out so much in just over a week.”
“Rounded out?!” My eyes bore a red hot hole of evil into Chris’ forehead. “I have not ‘rounded out’!”
“Anyway...” Luckily for him, Esme pulled me away from Chris and sat me down at the table in front of a full fry up laid out fresh for me by Jonathan. The whole table was set for six, wine glasses already filled with orange juice, and a full range of condiments and hot drinks extras sat with a single daisy on a tray at the centre. “Shut up, eat up and let’s talk planning.”
“Hell no.” I washed down a mouthful of hash brown with rocket fuel Columbian coffee. “I haven’t even begun to apologise yet.”
“No need. You did me a favour.”
The red-haired beauty sat in the seat next to me, leaving the one opposite for Blaze. The rest of the men took their places and started scoop
ing food from the bowls and dishes of breakfast foods scattered over the impressively large left over space across the table top.
It was a completely normal situation, yet it felt like the start of a horror movie. It was all so sterile and artificial. That’s always the way a massacre starts.
“Would one of you just rip me a new one already?” Frustrated, I beat my fists against the table and got nothing but looks of confusion in return. They were supposed to hate me. Hell, I wanted them to because I didn’t deserve happy hour and a breakfast wake up call. I just wanted someone to give me the ass kicking I’d earned. “I’m sick of getting away with murder. Really.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Blaze brushed my bedraggled bed hair away from my hand and laid his palm across my forehead. “You look like you’re going through an emotional soiree.”
I did feel a little muddled up. I wanted my friends close and was glad to see them, yet somehow resented them being there. Conversely, I really wanted more coffee, yet the gulp before had made me really not want more coffee.
Oh, dear God. I wasn’t...?
“Am I pregnant?” Everyone stopped still and stared, confused again. “If I’m mood-swingy and coffee makes me want to throw up, am I pregnant?”
“Emmy, no. You’re hungover.”
“Oh.” Nodding to Dan uncertainly, I eyed the remaining two-thirds of a cup of java dubiously. It really did taste fucking awful.
“Why would she say that?” Alarmed, Esme looked back and forth between all of us. “She’s had a million hangovers before, why now would she be thinking babies?”
“Hunter. Siobhan’s up t’stick.”
“Oh. Aah.” Grinning, she turned to face me and rested her chin daintily on a curled up fist.
“I have to explain this, don’t I?” A full update on my little trip had taken a good few hours the night before and recalling it all again was a dire prospect. Talk about getting bored of your own stories... “I’ve changed my mind. I need that coffee after all.”
It was basically lunchtime by the time all of the breakfast plates had been cleaned and put away. Blaze and Chris shared the four hour old leftovers between them as they made some of the mountain of last minute confirmation calls to people all over the country.