Making Love (Destiny Book 1)

by Catherine Winchester

  These were all events that were way in the future but would happen one day, and we hadn’t discussed any of this stuff yet.

  Feeling rather depressed, I packed up my things and returned home, where I could continue brooding among my home comforts.

  Chapter Twelve

  After a few days to settle in, I got the number from Hannah and phoned my father. The conversation was stilted but we arranged to meet on Friday, at a coffee shop in central London.

  I was nervous and stopped in to a paper shop for some mints on my way, which was when I saw the headline on Hot Magazine.

  ‘The Bedroom Secrets of Will Braxton’s New Love’ it proclaimed.

  What the hell? How did they know my bedroom secrets?

  I bought a copy, thankful that my picture wasn’t on the front, then I rolled it up and shoved it into the depths of my bag.

  My Dad was waiting when I arrived and despite not having seen him for seven years, since Hannah’s wedding, I recognised him immediately, and he stood up and greeted me with a kiss on my cheek. We chatted about nothing much for a while, until I asked what I really needed to know.

  “So, what brought on this burst of paternal affection?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess when Mary showed me your picture, it just… made me miss you. Want to reach out to you. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “Who’s Mary?”

  “My wife,” he smiled. “You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t think so, unless you brought her to Hannah’s wedding.”

  “No, we met after that.”

  “Then I can't have met her.”

  “I haven’t seen you since then? Really?”

  Obviously I wasn’t memorable enough for him to pay much mind to our last meeting. Still, he must have a picture or two of me around for his perfect stranger of a wife to have recognised me.

  “Well, you must, she’s lovely. Maybe we could both go out as couples, what do they call it, double dating?”

  “Something like that.” My heart was sinking at the mention of Will and double dating so soon.

  “So, how long have you and Will been seeing each other?”

  “Didn’t Mary tell you?”

  He blushed. “I don’t put much stock in those rags.”

  “Since about January,” I admitted.

  “And it’s going well, is it? Hannah said you were travelling with his movie.”

  “It’s early days but yeah, it’s going well. He’s asked me to move in, actually.”

  I don’t know why I said it, or what made me say it. I suppose it had been at the forefront of my mind since Will had mentioned it.

  Dad’s face lit up. “That’s great news, sweetie. You must really like him.”

  I considered telling him that I hadn’t given my answer, but I didn’t.

  “When is he back?” Dad asked.

  “Oh,” I had to stop and think for a moment. “About two weeks. Why?”

  “Just thinking of when we can all get together, that’s all.”

  “I can meet Mary any time,” I bristled slightly, as I was getting the impression that I alone wasn’t good enough.

  “Oh, yeah, of course. I just didn’t want you to feel like a third wheel.”

  “I’m a big girl now, Dad, I have a mortgage and everything. I think I can handle dinner with my step mum.”

  “Of course you can, I didn’t mean…” he sighed. “I’m making a right balls up of this, aren’t I?”

  He sounded so genuine that I felt bad for assuming the worst.

  “You can't just get to know someone overnight,” I said kindly. “It’ll take time.”

  He smiled. “You’re right, sorry.” He sipped his coffee. “So, Hannah tells me you’re a freelance illustrator now?”

  So I told him all about my jobs and what it entailed. He listened attentively, like a good parent should, better than my mother usually, and I tried to forget my earlier disquiet. Even if he was star struck, that didn’t mean he had an ulterior motive.

  ***

  We kept the meeting short, about an hour, and as soon as I got home, I opened the gossip rag I’d bought earlier.

  It was Toby Stephens, a boy I’d dated during my A’Levels. We’d kissed but he’d never even seen my bedroom, let alone be able to tell its secrets. Most of the article was lies or bluster, and I was able to laugh my way through it, even taking a picture of some choice quotes and sending them to Laurie, who had also known Toby.

  According to him, I had a voracious sexual appetite (I did for Will, but I never had with Toby) and my bedroom was full of scented candles. My living room had been, because we had an ever present odd smell from the downstairs neighbour, but my bedroom was candle free.

  He also said that I always wore black satin underwear, almost to the point of obsession, according to the article. Toby had only seen my underwear once and yes, it had been black that day. He’d never gotten more than a hand into my bra though. Three dates we lasted, four if you include the party we met at.

  Laurie laughed with me about how stupid the whole thing was, which cheered me up. She was my friend and she knew the truth, which was all that really mattered. I didn’t care if the rest of the world thought I wore more black than your average Goth and kept more candles than a Catholic church.

  The end of the article solicited anyone else who knew me to contact them, and I hunted the rest of the magazines to see their submitting guidelines. They paid £250 per story, apparently.

  Well, if Toby needed 250 quid that badly, then who was I to begrudge him.

  I briefly felt a pang of worry over the nude picture I’d sent to Pete all those years ago, but I’d dated him for over a year precisely because he wasn’t a dick, like Toby was, so I was hopeful Pete would keep them to himself, if he even still had them.

  Will and I texted every day and managed to speak a couple of times a week, but I missed him. He didn’t ask about moving in together again, and I didn’t bring it up.

  Life carried on as normal, until the publishers of the book I was illustrating emailed me, wanting me to do a promotional tour for the second book’s release (I hadn’t even finished the illustrations yet), and accompany the author on signings around the country, as well as doing press interviews with her, sometime in the New Year.

  I couldn’t help but feel that I was only being asked because of who I was dating. For the first book, all they had asked me to do was a phone interview for an art centric radio program, and a two minute segment with local news, and I’d never been asked to do a tour before.

  I wondered if this was to be my life now.

  I was beginning to feel as if I was no longer Elle Greystone, I was now Will Braxton’s Girlfriend.

  It wasn’t a nice feeling.

  ***

  My father made a series of excuses as to why he and Mary couldn’t meet me over the next two weeks. Mary was babysitting for her daughter, or she had a book club that night, or he had to work late that day, and so on and so on.

  So I set a date for after Will’s return and left it that I’d ask Will if he was free. I never confirmed whether Will would be coming or not. And he absolutely was not. If my dad wanted to spend time with me, then he would just have to make do with me only. If this was some kind of ruse, then I’d rather know sooner than later.

  Will didn’t bring up moving in again until the day I was going to meet my Dad, a week after he got back.

  “Have you given any more thought to moving in with me?” he asked casually, his back turned as if this wasn’t important to him. There was a slight catch in his voice however, that belied his calm façade.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot,” I admitted. “I haven’t reached any decisions though.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  He offered to come tonight but I had refused, even although he said he wanted to meet my father. For some reason, I couldn’t vocalise my fears to him, I hardly wanted
to admit them to myself, so I assured him that he could come the next time we met.

  He went home at about 3pm to give me time to get ready, and I met Dad and Mary at 7pm, at a French restaurant that frankly, was a little pretentious for my tastes.

  As I was led into the back room of the restaurant, I spotted Dad immediately and both he and the woman with him were looking behind me. My heart sank.

  “Is Will parking the car?” My dad asked as he kissed my cheek.

  “He couldn’t make it,” I replied with a tight smile. “You must be Mary.” I held my hand out to the step-mother I never knew I had.

  “Hi,” she smiled at me, then pulled me in for a hug. “It’s so great to finally meet you.”

  She was a bottle blonde, short and plump but still glamorous, and only very, very slightly brassy. I instantly liked her because she seemed warm and bubbly. I hoped my first impressions were proved correct.

  We sat down and ordered some wine, then my Dad asked what had held Will up.

  “You haven’t even asked how I am,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, forgive him, sweetie,” Mary said, patting my father’s arm. “Peter’s just a little star struck but he means no harm. It’s insensitive of us though, and I’m sorry about that.”

  Now I really liked her. I felt as if she should have a Southern American accent or something, she was one of those women who was all sweetness and light, and hugs and puppies on the outside, but with a core of steel. I got the impression that she wore the pants in this relationship.

  She might look like the polar opposite of my mother but they both ruled the roost, so maybe they had more in common than it appeared at first glance.

  “So Pete tells me you’re an artist,” she opened the conversation, and we chatted quite happily, mainly just us girls, all though the main courses. She was Personal Assistant for the Managing Director of a Kia dealership, and Dad still worked as a car salesman, for the same dealership as Mary.

  As we looked over the dessert menus, I could see them exchanging some pointed looks and Mary seemed to be silently goading him into saying something.

  The waiter returned and we ordered dessert and coffee, then the conversation turned back to Will, starting with Mary complimenting me on my dress for the Blood Moon premiere. Then she wanted to know what he was like and in very general terms, I told her a little. I had to keep reminding myself that I actually didn’t know these people well at all and shouldn’t say too much, but Mary was just so easy to talk to.

  Thankfully, she then steered the conversation towards my Dad and a new business idea he had. He wanted to start his own car dealership, selling used but high end cars, however raising the funds to get started was harder than he expected. Mary explained that it had been his dream for twenty years.

  I wasn’t really into cars, I’d passed my test and was part of the car club, where you paid a monthly fee and could use one of their cars when necessary, but I hadn’t had my own car for over five years now, although I made the right noises.

  “He’s got everything in place,” Mary told me, gazing proudly at my father. “He’s even got himself a credit licence, all he needs is another hundred grand in seed money and he’s good to go.”

  “It must be hard with the banks not lending,” I agreed. “Have you tried re-mortgaging?”

  “We don’t have a mortgage,” Dad admitted.

  “He needs an investor,” Mary said. “A silent partner or something.”

  “That would be nice,” I agreed.

  “I don’t suppose you…”

  I didn’t even hear the rest of her sentence, the sound of the penny dropping was too loud.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I have four thousand two hundred in savings,” I told them, taking a sip of my water.

  “Well, yes, but I thought that maybe… Will-” Mary continued.

  “Excuse me a moment, I need the loo.”

  I headed thorough to the front of the restaurant but I bypassed the restrooms and approached the till.

  “Can I help you, Ma’am?” the maître d asked as I approached.

  “I’d like to pay the bill for Greystone, please.”

  “Certainly, Ma’am.”

  “Do you have something I could write on? I’d like to leave a message.”

  “Of course.” He handed me a pad with the restaurant’s logo on, and a pen.

  ‘I wanted to reconnect with my father. You wanted a loan.

  Enjoy your dinner, it’s the only money you’ll ever get out of me.

  Never contact me again.

  P.S. my name is spelled ELEANOR’

  “Would you like me to hail a cab?” he asked as I wrote. I didn’t know if he could read upside down, and I didn’t particularly care.

  “Yes, please.”

  He signalled to the doorman. I paid the bill on my credit card, leaving a generous tip (it wasn’t the restaurant’s fault I was on the verge of tears) then I handed him the folded note and headed outside.

  I gave the cab driver my friend, Marie’s address, and I texted her on the way to be sure she didn’t have company.

  The driver tried chatting to me but it was all I could do to hold my tears at bay and I didn’t even register he’d spoken until he repeated himself. I answered but he quickly gave up on the idea of chatting to me.

  Marie opened the front door as my cab pulled up and enveloped me in a hug on the doorstep. I thought I’d managed to hold it together but evidently my misery was visible to everyone.

  Her small act of kindness was my undoing and I began to howl.

  When my flood of tears became a trickle, she brought me inside, opened the vodka and got two glasses out.

  “Do you have whisky?” I asked, still sniffling.

  “I think Jim might.” She went back to the cupboard. “We’ve got some Grant’s, is that okay?”

  “Please.”

  “Sit yourself down,” she said, pointing to the kitchen table.

  I did, watching as she got ice out and poured us both generous measures.

  “So,” she said, handing me my glass as she sat opposite. “Tonight didn’t go well?”

  “I was right, he was only interested in me for Will, and as if that isn’t bad enough, it was only Will’s money he’s after.” I began to cry again and Marie moved a box of tissues closer.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this any more,” I admitted my worst fear.

  “See your dad?”

  “No. I mean, I won’t see him again, but I was talking about Will.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Nothing!” I wailed. I told her all about tonight, then the book publicity tour the publishers now wanted me to do, the magazine articles that already called me ‘Will Braxton’s Girlfriend’ and spread lies about me. Then I told her about my other fears, of being eclipsed by Will and his career, and about his offer to move in and how I was worried about losing sight of who I was. “The worst thing is, it’s all really unfair because none of it’s his fault but… I don’t know, it’s like… it’s like he’s some massive gravitational event and everything in our lives revolves around him. I’ve even switched to his favourite drink,” I said, waiving my whisky around as proof.

  “But that same pull is what attracted you, isn’t it?”

  “Not his fame. I’d be in heaven right now if he wasn’t famous.”

  “Have you told him any of this?”

  “God, no! You’ve never seen him when he’s acting, but it’s… it’s like there’s this light that goes on inside him and you can just see that not only does he love it, he was born to do it. If I told him how I feel, I’d worry he might feel as if I was asking him to choose between me and his career, and I’d never do that.”

  “So you’d rather break up with him, than let him choose?”

  “I don’t know what I want, Marie.”

  “Okay,” Marie sipped her drink. “So how would you feel if Will was in a different car
eer?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, say he was a CEO or something, his career would eclipse yours too, wouldn’t it?”

  “I guess.”

  “Could you live with that?”

  I considered the question. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I guess I just always thought I’d end up with some arty or slightly geeky guy, and our careers would be sort of equal, with a bit of give and take when we had children.”

  “Well, you are dating an arty, slightly geeky guy, aren’t you?”

  I actually laughed at that. I’d meant an illustrator or IT guy but she was right, Will did fit my description perfectly.

  “Okay, so does Will support your career?”

  “Of course. He even tweets about my projects sometimes.”

  “And your friends and family, do they ask about Will before you?”

  “Of course not… well, maybe Mum does sometimes.”

  “Because we all know what a stellar human being she is,” Marie rolled her eyes. “So if he loves and supports you, and your family and friends love and support you, what do you care about some strangers on the internet, or some gossip rag?”

  “I tell myself the same thing,” I admitted. “But it’s easier said than done.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. As for your career, meeting Will might just be the boost you need to break into the big time.”

  “I don’t want to succeed on his back!”

  “Sweetie, success isn’t only about hard work it’s also about good luck, being in the right place at the right time. Life is often about who you know, not what you know, and that’s true for everyone. Doesn’t Will say Keith Bolton gave him his big break?”

  I nodded.

  “And does he deserve his success?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then maybe Will can be your big break, because I know you deserve it too.” She reached out and took my hand. “He will complicate your life, no doubt, but in many ways he can also brighten it. Take the things you don’t like, like the interest in your life, and turn that to your benefit. Use it to help sell the children’s books, use it to be offered bigger and better contracts. Use it to raise money for your favourite cause.”