Sweet Reflection (Truth)

by Henderson, Grace

  “What the hell, Alex? You’re seriously resorting to this?” I can’t believe she lied to get me here. Each time I see her she gets a little bit more cuckoo-crazy. And I’m having to stand in front of her watching her fuck me with her eyes, dressed in a too-revealing lingerie and robe that Laurel would look sexy as hell in. Now all I want to do is get back to her.

  “Darling, just come in for a second. I need some advice. Business, I promise.”

  Why I follow her inside I don’t know. I guess it’s because I want answers; why the hell she keeps on at me like this and why she can’t just stay away.

  “So, who was it that called me today? It was a stitch-up?”

  “Yes, a friend of mine. This is his house, I’m just borrowing it. I didn’t think you would come if I told you I wanted to meet with you.” She says, moving into the living room which I was right, has bland walls and cream carpet. She walks over to the sofa and pats the cushion next to her so I sit on the edge of an armchair nearer the door. May be rude, but at least I can have a quicker getaway if she tries anything.

  “You have friends Alex? I am shocked. And yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t have come.” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice. She’s wasting my time.

  “Now, now, is that any way to treat me? I know something Laurel might find very interesting, don’t forget. And Proposals has been doing so well lately. Did she tell you we landed the publicity deal with Belvoir Castle? A coup, I must say.”

  Of course Laurel told me. She couldn’t stop talking about it for days, and she hasn’t stopped telling me how great Alex is and how much of a support she’s been and how she sees Proposals growing day by fucking day. But of course Alex doesn’t need to know any of that. As far as she’s concerned, we’re not together, or that’s what I keep telling her anyway.

  “What do you want?” I ask stiffly. She gets up slowly, exaggerating the pouty lips and strut in her step that’s putting me in a very awkward position.

  “I know your secret,” she says quietly as she leans in.

  “What do you mean?” I swallow hard. It’s all going to the shitter if she means what I think she means.

  “I saw your girlfriend yesterday.” And she does. Fuck. My attempt at protecting Laurel from the witch has clearly backfired. I didn’t think they had the kind of relationship where they shared their personal lives. Guess I should have known women talk.

  “Now I don’t appreciate being lied to, but I’m willing to overlook it, for a price. I want you to come upstairs to bed. Now.” Her eyes narrow, and I gulp down as much air as I can before she licks her lips and presses them to mine.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laurel

  “They’re definitely ordered. I can assure you they will be here. I’ve never had this problem before. Give me an hour to sort this Sally. I promise I’ll do what I can to rectify the situation, I just need to look up the data. Yes. Thank you. Of course. I’ll ring you as soon as I know.”

  I slam the phone down onto the desk and slap my forehead before letting out a string of curse-words, some of which I’ve never used before in my life.

  “Laurel, what’s up?” Jess asks as she appears from behind the storeroom door.

  My growl loudens as I try and think about how it all went so wrong.

  “The Hunter dresses haven’t arrived. You don’t know anything about it do you?” I look up at Jess with hope in my eyes, longing, pleading for her to tell me it was all a mistake and she knows what’s going on, but her slow shake of the head has my head falling into my hands.

  “This is the biggest cock-up of the century. Her wedding was going to be what made us. And now I’ve got a feeling she’s going to have to go elsewhere. She’ll tell everyone she knows and it will ruin us.” A tear falls and I feel like such a failure, but I lift my head and Jess is in front of me with her arm on my shoulder. “What can I do?” She asks sympathetically, and I’m thankful I have such a great team who really care about the store.

  “Make a coffee?” I laugh through the tears and try to get my head back on straight. “I need to ring the supplier and it’s not going to be a pretty conversation.”

  “You bet. Be right back.” I smile at her eager escape, who wouldn’t want to get away from a crazy, crying boss?

  Another hour later and I’ve had three cups of coffee but I’m no nearer to finding out what went wrong. All the supplier knows is that they had a cancellation phone call from, lo and behold, Laurel Matthews, manager of Proposals. There’s no paper trail, there’s just a postal confirmation of the cancellation which is somewhere in Royal Mail’s hands as we speak. I know I didn’t cancel, there’s no way I would. Sally needed eight dresses and her Vera Wang and at the moment there’s none. The more I go over it in my head I start to doubt myself. Was it the day James came round with flowers and took me to lunch, and I accidentally phoned the wrong supplier because I was in too much of a daze? Was I too hung over after one of our nights out to think properly and again made the mistake of cancelling an order instead of placing a different one? It all seems so far-fetched, I don’t make mistakes like that. Ever. I’m organised and switched on and I love my job so much that I couldn’t imagine ever doing something like that.

  I’m slumped back in the chair after my second phone call to Sally asking for another couple of hours, which she kindly agreed to, when the door opens and there goes my beating heart out of sync again. His tight jeans, tight polo and huge smile get those butterflies flapping away in my stomach, even through everything that’s going on here. Abercrombie models have nothing on my man.

  “Hey babe,” he says and frowns when he sees another tear escaping.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” His soft voice draws me to his open arms and he wraps me up tightly, stroking my back. “Why are you crying?”

  “I’ve just had a shitty day. Sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. It’s pathetic really.” I say swiping the tears away.

  “Right, sit down. Who’s here with you? Jess?”

  I nod and he pokes his head round to Jess and asks her to take fifteen so we can talk. He makes me a coffee and comes back out to the showroom.

  “Out with it then, babe. A problem shared is a problem halved.”

  He’s sitting in the chair in front of the desk in the showroom leaning on his elbow and staring at me thoughtfully as I tell him exactly what I’ve found out so far. I don’t expect anything from him. He’s probably just thinking I’m a stupid blonde that can’t even run her own business, because I know how it sounds. It sounds like one, colossal fuck-up.

  “I know how it looks, but I honestly didn’t cancel. And I’m just lost because if things like this are happening, I won’t ever make Proposals a success.” My voice is whiny and I need to get a grip on my emotions. I’m supposed to be level-headed, calm in a crisis, but I’ve never come up against something like this because if there is anyone I can usually rely on, it’s myself.

  “So you can’t reorder the dresses?”

  “No, the lead time is too long. Her wedding’s in two weeks.”

  “Okay well there’s no point in dwelling on what went wrong until you’ve found the solution to these dresses first. That’s got to be your priority. Once you’ve done that, you can spend a bit more time on figuring out how to make sure it won’t happen again.” Mr Voice of Reason is of course, correct, but I don’t know how to fix this.

  “She needs dresses. You know what styles and colours. Surely someone, somewhere, will stock them? You won’t make any money but at least you’ll fix the problem and have a happy customer.”

  I think about that for a second and then a little light starts to swallow the darkness in my head. “Well…I guess, I don’t know, maybe. It may be a store across the country or something. That’s

  nine dresses I have to find.”

  He shrugs, “Yeah but you may as well try babe. It’s the only thing you can do. Do you have some kind of list which tells you stockists for each designer?”

  I jump out t
he chair and reach into the filing cabinet for the brand directories and gather all the information for the dresses. All I thought about was the fuck up and I didn’t even contemplate there may be a solution. I don’t have much time, and I still don’t know if it will work, but he’s right, it’s the only thing I can do.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I gush as I plant a big kiss on his cheek. “I lucked out with you, y’know.”

  “I do know. And you’re welcome. Pass me a directory.” He gestures in front of me and my jaw drops in surprise. “You’re staying?”

  He chuckles and digs his phone out of his pocket. “Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my girlfriend in her hour of need? I’ll help you call.”

  “Okay, bride comes first. Please find Sally her Vera Wang. Here are the details.”

  Two hours later Jess has taken over the appointments out front and James and I are in my office at the back finishing up the phone calls. We have eight Bridesmaid dresses located, all in remote areas of the country but have yet to find the Vera Wang.

  “That’s fantastic, thanks for your help sweetheart. Oh she will. Okay, speak to you soon. Bye.”

  He swipes over the screen of his phone and places it on the desk, leaning right back in the chair.

  “Sweetheart, hey?” I ask with a playful smirk on my face. All I can think about is how grateful I am.

  James laughs and shrugs it off. “Worked didn’t it? Told her I wanted it for my fiancée and it was the dress of her dreams. So it’s being shipped to you today. Am I great or what?”

  I walk round the edge of the desk and sit in front of him. He straightens out of the chair and opens up my legs to stand in between them.

  “Did I mention how grateful I was for your help today?”

  His hands reach up to grip either side of my face and his mouth comes so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my face.

  “Once or twice, but you can say it again.” He says against my lips.

  “I’m so, so grateful, and I think you deserve a very big reward.” Our lips touch lightly and he sucks on my bottom lip, then with a flash of his tongue, gently opens my mouth up to him. Our kiss only lasts for a minute but it’s enough to make me light-headed.

  “Well I’m up for that. But not tonight. Because I have a date.” And then the happiness fades.

  “Oh?” I reply, trying to sound more curious than annoyed. It’s not with me.

  “Yep. I’ve got to be at her house at seven.” He’s being evasive on purpose, he knows I wanted more of an answer than that.

  “Well?” I say, crossing my arms in front me.

  “Well what?” He’s holding back a smile, and his head is cocked to the side, waiting.

  “Explain, please.” My voice is stern and angry but there’s a little shake to it I do my best to cover with a clear of the throat.

  He slumps back in the chair and cockily stretches his arms up behind his head. The polo he’s wearing rides up and a hint of his stomach peeks out that has me briefly forgetting why I was angry with him.

  “She’s really beautiful. And I mean gorgeous…If I was twenty years older. But it’s her daughter that has really got to me. I’d do anything for her. Including spending the whole afternoon talking about wedding dresses.”

  My heart starts to pound frantically against my chest. He always does this. He acts like an annoying jerk, then makes me swoon into a pile of mush. Life with James Dawson is like I’m constantly sitting on a see-saw and I have no idea when he’s gonna jump on and send me flying. Then when we’re finally riding steady he’ll get off and let me drop. Dick.

  “Well I hope you and my mother enjoy your date. When did she organise that anyway?”

  “I got a call this morning. She’s thinking about redoing a few rooms in the house and wants me to have a look. So of course, wanting to get some more brownie points, I agreed. Plus I get to spend time with the incredibly sexy daughter I was telling you about.”

  I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face and as he pulls me down into his arms again, I think about how boring and predictable life would be without that damn see-saw.

  Chapter Sixteen

  James

  My phone has been ringing incessantly for the last three days. So much so, that I’ve switched off the ringer completely and it’s just been on vibrate. I take it out my pocket and look at the flashing screen. Her, again. Alex has been bombarding me with calls since I pushed her off me and told her to get lost the other night. I don’t know what she has in store but the way I left, it’s bound to be bad. She’s been threatening me, threatening Laurel and my business, and I’ve had enough to the point I’m actually thinking of just telling Laurel anyway. Obviously I want to be honest with her, but she’s been so happy at work, her face just lights up every time she talks about it and call me selfish, but I can’t bring myself to ruin that. She also told me her mum’s been off; tired, moody, just not herself lately, so I get she’s worried and I don’t want to do anything to make her feel worse.

  “Do you need to get that? I don’t mind.” Laurel asks softly. I look over at her expecting to see a flicker of jealousy or irritation. So many girls I’ve been out with have been clingy and suspicious of texting or phone calls and some have actually rooted through my phone when they think I’m not paying attention, but there’s nothing. I’m trusted. She’s just genuinely concerned that it might be something important, and the guilt yanks at my insides and twists them up with knots I have no hope of being able to untie.

  “Nah, it’s just work.” I lie. Again. She nods and carries on pouring us drinks. I change the subject quickly before I lose myself and let it all come running out my mouth.

  “So where’s your mum?” I ask, and see Laurel’s back stiffen as she hands me a bottle.

  “Asleep, I think. She’s been sleeping all day.” The corners of her mouth drop and she looks concerned and anxious.

  “Nonsense.” Her mum’s voice cuts through as she walks in, dishevelled and tired; a far cry from the put together and dressed up woman I saw a few weeks ago.

  “So dramatic. I had a nap that’s all. I’ve been working such long hours recently, they’re taking their toll.” She shrugs off Laurel’s comment and puts the kettle on.

  “So anyway, let me show you around properly James. Thank you for coming tonight honey, I’ve been wanting to do something with this place for years but just never got round to it. I’ll be interested to know your opinion.”

  “Any time. I love doing houses. It’s not often I get to do them anymore. There are so many other things vying for my attention but it’s where I started and where I love to come back to every now and again.” The woman who shall not be named, was my first project on a normal person’s house in over a year. And I use the word normal loosely, because she appears to be anything but.

  We walk through to the large family room at the back of the house that opens out onto the garden. It’s a huge room for the size of the house and after noticing the old floral wallpaper that makes me want to hurl, my eyes pass the furniture and dart to the chimney breast at the end that’s covered up. I bet I could find a cracking original fireplace at the reclamation yard.

  “Judy, did you cover that up?” She follows my eyes and looks at me sheepishly, “I didn’t want to. Mike said he wasn’t bothered about having one there so I went along with it. Do you think we should uncover it?”

  My eyes flick to Laurel to see if talk of her dad has affected her, and my hands automatically reach out to her back, trying to give her some sort of comfort with my touch and when she smiles up at me I relax and turn my attention back to the room.

  “Yeah. I think it’d look great, I know where we could get an old Georgian fireplace. Did you have a colour scheme in mind?”

  “Not really. I want to be creative but truthfully, I don’t think I have it in me.” She laughs, and so does Laurel. I can see in Laurel’s face it’s a relief that Judy’s down here and looking better than she though
t. But I’ve always been perceptive of peoples’ body language and every now and again she winces like she’s hiding some kind of pain or dizziness but she clutches onto the side of the sofa as she sits back and rides through it. Laurel’s not facing her so I don’t think she’s noticed but I can’t take my eyes off Judy’s face. When she looks over at me I realise I’ve been staring and her shift in the seat tells me she’s aware of what I’ve just witnessed.

  She pulls herself forward and claps her hands together, “So, what does the expert suggest?” Her buoyant tone is forced, as is her smile, but if she doesn’t want to let us in on what’s going on then that’s her business. I’m clearly in no position to judge. I can only assume she’s got Laurel’s best interests at heart, as have I.

  “Well, if you’re going to do something in keeping with the style, then there’s burgundy? You’ve got enough natural light from the patio doors for it not to darken the room too much. Most Georgian colours were muted, lots of greys, browns or olive. Any of those would work well with this mahogany furniture too.”

  She nods along as I talk about upkeep for the floors, and how best to restore the original ceiling rose that looks damaged. We finish up in that room and she says she wants me to look at another too. She exits the room first but Laurel grabs my hand from behind and holds me back. “You’re so sexy when you talk paint colours,” she whispers, and throws a quick wink as she struts past me. I chuckle loudly, and make a mental note to bring up Dulux at every opportunity.

  We spend the next hour going over another two rooms in detail, and I promise to bring some samples round for Judy to have a look at, along with some photos of other Georgian houses I’ve done up in the past. She slumps against the side of the counter in the kitchen and lets out a loud sigh, “I’m so tired. I’m going to bed. Thank you so much for tonight. I can’t wait to get stuck in to some of your ideas. I just need to find some time now.”