by Lily Morton
There’s a long silence. “And how hypothetical would that be?” he says slowly.
I hum contemplatively. “Yeah, no, not at all hypothetical now that I come to think about it.”
There’s a longer silence and when he speaks next, he sounds incredulous. “Your boss being Zeb?” His voice goes high. “Oh my God, you fucked Zeb.”
“Yep,” I say glumly. “And it was bloody amazing, but I think he’s still in love with his ex and his ex is definitely in love with him, but he’s committed to marrying this woman so he can have children and please his parents and so he wants Zeb for a bit on the side.”
“Have you wandered onto the set of Downton Abbey and just not realized?”
I snort out a laugh. “Eli,” I say in a warning voice.
“Well, sorry but really?” He pauses. “And you fucked Zeb and it was brilliant?”
“The skies opened and the angels wept.”
“Zeb?” he says again.
“Yes,” I say crossly. “Zeb. You seem rather stuck on that one point. What about the incredible mess I’ve made of my life?”
“Well, at least you can say you fucked Zeb Evans. That’s a bloody major win in my book.”
Someone says something in the background and he laughs. “Now, boo, you know you’re my one and only.”
“Excuse me. Can you maybe stop flirting with your hot actor boyfriend and incidentally sounding like a complete douchebag and concentrate on my pain?”
“Sorry, sorry.” He pauses and his voice gets suddenly serious. “And you think he’s in love with his ex?”
“I’m pretty sure of it,” I say glumly. “He binned me off this morning.”
“Babe.” He sighs loudly. “Well, that’s just fucked up.”
“That’s it?” I say incredulously. “Well, I must say, don’t ever write a problem page. You’d be shit.”
He laughs but then goes quiet. When he speaks next his voice is firm. “Okay, so let me get this straight. He fucked you and now he’s having regrets and you have feelings for him?”
“So many feelings,” I say dolefully.
“Jess, you must have known this was going to happen. He wears responsibility like it’s a fucking hair shirt. I don’t know what happened to him, but he’s as buttoned up as if he’s in a straitjacket.”
“I do know.”
“Was it bad?”
I shrug, forgetting he can’t see me. “Bad enough that it’s completely understandable why he is the way he is.”
He sighs. “Shit, that makes it worse. You can’t even hate the fucker.”
“I think I’m managing quite well with that at the moment,” I say glumly. “And if I waver, I just have to remember the way he looked at me this morning like he’d tracked dog shit over the carpet.”
“He did what?” His voice is low and dangerous.
“Eli, calm down.”
“No, you calm down. He gets to sleep with you and bins you the next morning. You, who’s so lovely and fucking gorgeous. The man’s a total fuckwit.”
“He says I’m too young for him. I’m too wonderful and he’s too old. He’ll drag me down and I deserve everything in the world. And blah blah more lovely stuff blah.”
“Jesus, I hate that wanker,” he hisses. “He can’t even be a complete bastard to make us feel better.”
I laugh and there’s silence for a second. “What am I going to do?” I say softly.
“Babe.” He pauses. “You still want him, don’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“You’ve wanted him for as long as you’ve known him. That doesn’t wear off with one shag.” There’s a silence, and I listen to him breathe on the line. In my mind’s eye I can see him standing in his kitchen with that wild mess of blond hair and kind face. “Okay,” he says finally. “I want you to go and have breakfast first. You’re awful when your blood sugar goes down.”
“Such a nurse.”
“You know it. An exceptional nurse in this case. It is, after all, how I landed my sugar daddy.”
Gideon, his boyfriend, says something indignantly in the background, and Eli laughs. “Go and have breakfast, Jess, and then I want you to clear off somewhere for the day.”
“Why?”
“If I know Zeb, he’ll be looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because just as I know you’ve always fancied him, I equally know he’s always fancied you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Whenever we’ve been at parties, you’re the first person he seems to look for, and he watches you when you don’t know it.”
I feel warmth fill my chest. “So, how is going out going to solve it?”
“He won’t know where you are, and that’ll drive him mad. Let him have a day of having to ponder what he’s done. It’ll do him good.”
“But what about when I get back?”
“Well, that’s up to you. You can collect your stuff and fuck off because you’ll be leaving the agency soon anyway, or–”
He pauses. “Or what?” I ask, not liking the first option.
“Or you can fuck his brains out and see if he can replace them with enough common sense to know what he’s going to lose if he carries on being a twat. And Jesse, whatever you do, you know you’re always welcome here, don’t you?”
Gideon says something in the background, and Eli mutters a reply. Then he comes back on the line. “Gid says for you to come and stay with us for a while. Get your head on straight. We’d love to have you.”
“Won’t that interfere with your twenty-four-hour-a-day sex fest?”
“Nah, Gideon really needs to find a hobby apart from my arse.” I can hear Gideon say something, and Eli laughs. It’s the same laugh I’ve heard most of my life that got me into trouble constantly. “Come to Fowey if you’re sad,” he says. “I miss you loads.”
“I miss you too,” I say, touched by the conviction in his voice. “Thanks, babe.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
I end the call and stare at the lake, contemplating my options for a few minutes. Then an evil smile crosses my face. I’m not a quitter, so that really leaves me with only one option.
Zeb
It takes me an hour to get back in the room, during which I’m humiliated by the receptionist’s smirk when I have to descend to the lobby dressed only in a sheet to ask for a spare key.
However, after grabbing a shower and dressing in jeans and a dark green T-shirt, and sending at least ten messages to Jesse which are ignored, I finally make my way into the breakfast room and look around anxiously for him. I slump as I realise he isn’t here.
“Can I get you a table, sir?”
The voice comes from my side, and, as I turn to the waitress, I spot Max. “No, it’s okay,” I say quickly, giving her a weak smile. “I’m going to sit with him.”
“He’s a popular man this morning,” she says, smiling.
“Oh, erm. Oh,” I say in dawning realisation. “Was my friend sitting with him, by any chance? Tall with brown hair.”
“You mean Jesse?”
I smile because that’s so him. Everyone always seems to know him, wherever he is. “That’s the one.”
“Yes, he sat with the other gentleman before he left.”
I toy with the idea of asking her where he’s gone, but abandon it as a couple come in behind me. Leaving her to seat them, I walk quickly over to Max.
He looks up and smiles coolly. “Ah, here’s Casanova. I’m surprised you could walk this morning.”
I groan and throw myself into the seat opposite him. “I take it Jesse told you, then.”
He shakes his head. “Zeb, you’re a bloody fuckwit.”
I blink. “Please don’t hold back.”
He leans forward, pointing his fork at me in quite a threatening manner. “I don’t know when your brain vaporized but it must be a recent thing. What the hell were you thinking of?”
“Thank you,” I say in vindication and t
hen I sigh. “It was such a stupid thing to do. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment and the next thing I knew we were in bed and… Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shakes his head in apparent disbelief. “That’s not the mistake I was referencing. I’m not talking about you sleeping with him, for fuck’s sake.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“This morning’s behaviour,” he says loudly and then lowers his voice as some people at nearby tables turn to stare at us. “I’m talking about you acting like we’re in the plot of Poldark, and you’ve just despoiled a virgin.”
I shoot a quick glance around, but everyone has gone back to their breakfasts. “I panicked,” I mutter. “It wasn’t the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“You’re telling me. It was unkind.”
“Oh, I see you got the full story,” I say, stung because Max doesn’t look like this at me. He’s always looked up to me. “Jesse didn’t waste much time.”
He looks even more disappointed, if that’s possible, and my stomach churns. “He hardly said anything. I just got the whole picture from a few words and his general air of being kicked in the fucking teeth.”
I sigh and scrub my hands down my face, digging my palms into my eyes. “Shit, I knew I hurt him. I handled it so badly.”
“Yes, you did, and that should tell you something right there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you never handle things badly. You’re always perfect. Perfect dress. Perfect manners. Perfect way to deal with every situation.”
“Nice to know you noticed.”
He doesn’t take the bait. “And now look at you running around the foyer in just a sheet, offending Nina and Patrick at every turn.”
“Who told you that?”
“I’m a journalist,” he says primly. “I’m an expert at getting information.”
“It’s not Iraq.” I pause. “So, you’re agreeing with me, then?” He stares at me, so I elaborate. “I’m behaving very foolishly. The whole thing is a big mistake, and after I’ve apologised to Jesse, hopefully we can go back to our own lives and…”
“No.”
I nod. “Exactly. Wait. What? What do you mean no?”
“You’re missing my point, Zeb. Those things aren’t bad. They’re actually good.” I stare at him in absolute confusion. “Zeb, I love you. You’re my brother in all but name. But Christ, you’re buttoned up. You’re such a fucking grown-up.” I draw back, stung, and he seizes my hand. “I know what your dad was like and much as I loved him, it wasn’t easy living with that.” I stiffen, and he lifts my hand and kisses it swiftly. “Babe, you’re wonderful and one of the most important people in my life, but you’ve worried me over the last few years. You hardly laugh anymore. You’ve become obsessed with keeping things on an even keel.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“There is if that’s all there is. You only appreciate an even keel when you’ve been through a few storms. You steer away from them, Zeb, and sometimes you shouldn’t.” He sighs as I stare at him. “Life shouldn’t always be pleasant. It shouldn’t always be nice. Life should be lived to the utmost, and you’re just not doing it anymore. Do you know what I’ve seen this week?” he says fiercely. I shake my head, a little afraid to provoke him at the moment. “I’ve seen you laugh.”
“I do that all the time.”
“Name the last time, and it can’t be if it was just a polite response to someone’s joke so you didn’t make them feel bad.”
I think hard and finally shake my head. He nods in satisfaction. “Exactly. Zeb, you’re a snarky, sarcastic bastard but you conceal it with mostly everyone apart from a few.” He lifts his fingers and counts. “Me, Felix, and Jesse.”
“Max,” I say on a long sigh.
“No,” he says passionately. “You’re more alive with that boy than I’ve ever seen you before. You laugh and you’re animated and just here. In the present with the rest of us mortals. I don’t want you to lose that and go back to being responsible Zeb who’s too bothered about other people rather than himself. You put yourself too much in their shoes when you should be kicking your own footwear off and dancing on the odd table.”
“I can’t help being responsible,” I protest. “That’s a good thing. And my responsible boring side tells me that I shouldn’t do this with Jesse. He’s lovely, Max. He’s warm and kind and funny. He’s quick-witted and clever. Why should someone like that be saddled with me? I’m forty-four. I’m twenty years older than him, for fuck’s sake. Any glamour he sees in me at the moment will have long worn off by the time I’m sixty and he’s only forty.”
“Or maybe it won’t,” he says quietly. I stare at him, and he gives a small sigh. “Maybe it will never wear off. You don’t know that, Zeb. You’re so focused on what’s going to happen down a long road that you don’t stop to look at the scenery around you.” He pauses before shooting me a quick intense glance. “He could die tomorrow, you know. I’ve seen death.” His eyes darken. “Far too many times with people I’ve cared about. Jesse could be knocked down by a bus or have a heart attack or fall down some stairs or–”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Don’t say that.”
That dark gaze of his sharpens and a look of astonishment comes over his face. “You care about him?”
“Well, of course I do,” I say desperately. “He’s my employee and–”
“Shut up, fuckwit. You actually care about him.” I open my mouth and he makes a sharp gesture with his hand. “Oh my God, this is better than I thought.”
“How is it better?” I say fiercely. “Nothing can come of this.”
“So you admit it?”
I stare at him for what seems like an eternity. Then I give up because Max has always won a stare-out. Even as a teenager he had preternatural patience. “I do care for him,” I say slowly. “I want the best for him, and the best is going to be someone younger and less damaged.” I think of all the things Patrick flung at me in our last major row when I’d come home and found him in bed with his best friend. Hours of shouting. Mainly by him. I remember the criticism and steel myself.
“It’s good you know what’s best for everyone, Zeb,” Max says, popping the last piece of toast in his mouth. “Maybe you should give the Tory party a ring and see if you can sort out Brexit. Or maybe ring up the Kardashians and ask them to stop taking pictures of themselves.”
He sits back, obviously abandoning the argument of how good I am with Jesse. As much as I wanted him to shut up, I now immediately want him to start again and list more reasons why I should be with Jesse.
Instead I make myself relax. “Maybe to the first, but the second is hopeless. Mankind was doomed as soon as the first camera was invented.”
After breakfast, I wander the hotel looking in every room downstairs, but Jesse is nowhere to be found. Max had refused to tell me where he’d gone and said I deserved to wonder because I was a shithead. He’d then informed me that he wasn’t stopping at the hotel any longer because he couldn’t bear to watch me being a twat and stated his intention of buggering off home. I’d given him the two-finger salute, and we’d parted with a fierce hug as normal.
When I come to the function room, I find twenty people standing by easels in front of a huge floral display. I look around but don’t spy Jesse. It doesn’t surprise me, as he’d come out in hives if he had to spend this long standing still. However, I still slump in disappointment.
“What are you doing?”
I spin round when I hear Patrick’s voice and sigh inside. I could do without this. “Just looking,” I say slowly. “You not painting?”
“Not fucking likely. I’d rather eat my own testicle with a rusty spoon.” I shake my head, and he looks around. “Lost your little twink? Need a hand looking for him?”
“I don’t need your hand with anything,” I say evenly. “And please don’t call him that in such a derogatory tone.”
He la
ughs incredulously. “What the hell is the matter with you? You need to chill out, Zeb. You’ve got even more uptight, if that’s possible, since you’ve been with him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, I’m ridiculous,” he says, still giving me that smile that makes him look like a tosser. “I think that title might belong to the middle-aged bloke sticking it to a twenty-something.”
I spin round and something in my face must warn him, because he steps back quickly. “You need to shut the fuck up,” I say quietly but so forcefully that he blanches. “I’m getting very fucking tired of the way you’re talking about Jesse. He’s my guest, and if you don’t like him, then there’s a simple solution. We can both fuck off.”
“You’d go with him? You’re my best man.”
I stare at him. “What bit about him being my date are you getting confused about?”
“Please. He’s like a fucking chip wrapper. Easy to dump.”
I open my mouth to say something I’m pretty sure I won’t regret, and then we both turn as Frances comes up next to us. “What are you two boys talking so intently about?” she asks with an edge to her voice.
I smile innocently at her. “Patrick was just saying how he really wants to do some painting.”
Patrick scowls at me but immediately pastes a smile on his face when she turns to him. “That’s wonderful, darling. I’ll put you next to your mother.”
“Ouch,” I mouth and then smile at both of them. “Well, I must be going,” I say cheerfully and make my escape.
I stop outside the function room. Jesse isn’t coming here, so where to next? A sudden horrible thought occurs to me. Has he already been back and collected his stuff? Maybe he’s caught the train home.
Once that occurs to me, I’m consumed with the desire to know. I bolt up the stairs and let myself into the room. It’s filled with the eerie murky gloom of a summer storm, the light turning everyday objects almost extraordinary. The wind blows outside, flinging the first few drops of rain at the window.
The room is tidy because housekeeping has been in. I rush over to the wardrobe, flinging it open and then subsiding with a sigh of relief when I see his clothes jammed in there in a disorganised mess.