Right, I feel like a complete dick now jumping to conclusions, but I am still angry at Taylor interfering. I swallow, trying to think of what to say, but instead the emotion from the previous day builds again and tears start to leak down my face. “I…I am sorry, Taylor,” I whisper, knowing that my little apology sounds rather contrite.
“Don’t cry, Abs,” Taylor says, brushing the tears away gently with his thumb. “Don’t apologise. You had a rough day yesterday…Do you want to talk about it?”
I take a moment and then nod. Part of me wants to be a bitch, but I remind myself that Taylor is just trying to be supportive. I tell Taylor about my panic attack, then about Richard’s threats and finish off with my midnight rescue of Nicola. I watch the emotions flit across Taylor’s face, and when I tell him about Bryan, Taylor’s whole body goes tense and I can feel the anger rolling off him.
“It’s okay, Taylor. I dealt with Bryan. He won’t hurt Nicola again,” I say. Taylor looks at me quizzically, clearly not convinced. “I punched him in the nose and then told him if he went near her again, he would have to answer to me,” I tell Taylor with a small giggle, holding up my bruised knuckles for him to see.
“Oh, baby,” Taylor murmurs, gently kissing my hand.
I am struck by a thought. “Why was Henry following Richard?” I ask.
Taylor sighs and I can see he doesn’t want to tell me, but I guess something in my expression pushes the right buttons and he starts to explain. “Henry has been tracking down the origins of the blog for me. At first we thought Richard was behind it, which is why I got Henry looking into Richard’s movements and financials. But it turns out that while he has been contributing by sending in information via an anonymous email, whoever is running the blog has made it impossible to find out who he or she is.”
“Oh, okay…” I trail off, not sure what this all means. “But if you know the blogger is not Richard, then why are you still having him followed?”
“He was the one who leaked your medical records,” Taylor says, his voice cold and angry.
“What? I mean, how?” I say, stunned, though I shouldn’t be surprised, given Richard’s animosity towards me. But how he would have got hold of them remains a mystery, one which Taylor unlocks with his next words.
“We finally figured out how he did it. It turns out there was never a security breach at The Clinic. Richard simply walked into my office, managed to fool Patrice into thinking he was me and got her to request a copy of your records as part of paying your bill.”
“Se…Seriously?” I stammer.
“Yeah,” says Taylor grimly. “They faxed them over, and then he just helped himself. When we finally figured it out, I got Henry to pull the security footage and you can see it all happen. He was really convincing too. I couldn’t blame Patrice when I saw it, though she feels devastated about being taken in like that.”
“I bet.” As much as I want to blame Patrice, I know in my heart that she is just an innocent pawn in all of this. The beep of my alarm interrupts any further conversation, and I left out a deep sigh. “Guess it is time to get up, then…And get Nicola and her friend Lisa to school.”
“I’ll take them,” Taylor offers. “You get another couple of hours of sleep. I’ll get the girls sorted and then come back here. I thought I would work from here today.”
“That would be lovely,” I say, happily snuggling back down under the duvet. Taylor smiles and leans over to kiss me gently. “Eww. You need a shower. You stink,” I say, chuckling and shoving Taylor away before diving under the covers.
.........................
I am grateful for my boring, paperwork-filled day. After yesterday’s drama, a day of concentrating on ordering stock, reviewing apprentice applications and filling in forms for the purchase of the shop is just what I needed. With Taylor sat next to me, it gives me the confidence to tackle my planning application with the Council for the shop and flat renovations.
By the time darkness rolls around again, I feel like I have actually been productive, so when Taylor suggests finishing up early and going out for a bit to eat and to catch a film, I agree readily.
The Tenth
Excitement is buzzing through my veins. Today is the day that the shop next door and the flat will become mine. Seriously, I never thought this day would actually arrive, but Mr Thompson assures me that I will be able to pick up the keys at midday. Unfortunately, Taylor is in London today for meetings, but my mum and dad are coming with me, which will kill two birds with one stone, as they need to sign our partnership papers. Eeeeek, I think to myself.
“Hey, Abs, you are awake early,” Taylor says sleepily in my ear.
“I am just too excited to sleep,” I reply, bouncing on the bed like a kid on Christmas Day. Taylor laughs before grabbing me around the waist and then pinning me beneath him, trapping both my hands above my head.
“I am so proud of you, baby,” Taylor says, looking deep into my eyes. My breath hitches as I see the look in Taylor’s eyes and feel him hardening between my legs. I can instantly feel wetness as Taylor starts rubbing his cock gently through my folds and across my sensitive clit, the little nub growing with the delightful stimulation. He nudges my legs further apart before slipping into me and rocking to a gentle rhythm. As one hand holds my wrists, the other one slips down and starts to massage my clit. Sparks of arousal shoot through me as an intense heat seeps through my core. Teeth nip and graze my collarbone before Taylor starts suckling at my breasts, my nipples hardening into tight buds under his ministrations.
“Argh, Taylor, that feels so good,” I say, wriggling beneath his weight. Suddenly Taylor breaks away from my breast, and I hiss in dissatisfaction, but before I can say anything further, he crushes my mouth with his in a hunger-filled kiss. The gentle rocking changes into fast and furious thrusts as Taylor slams deep into my core. I can feel my orgasm building and I know it won’t be long. I sense Taylor is not far behind me as the urgency of his thrusts increases, keeping time with the thrusting of his tongue in my mouth. And then I am coming apart, the white light behind my eyes blinding me while my hips buck and shudder of their own accord as Taylor spills into me. With a final thrust Taylor growls, breaking off our kiss as he stiffens above me.
We pant like we have run a marathon as we both come down from our intense climaxes. Taylor releases my wrists and I wind my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss on my bruised lips. Softening, Taylor slips out of me whilst pushing my hair back off my face, before pulling my body into his so that he can nuzzle my neck and ear. I let out a satisfied sigh, my satiated body drowsy with contentment.
.........................
I am standing in Mr Thompson’s office barely able to contain myself. The papers are signed, money has been transferred and now I am holding the keys to the next step of my future. My heart is beating a rapid tattoo, the adrenaline is coursing through my veins and I feel like I am ready to conquer the world. Mum and Dad pile in the car and we head back to Bread, chatting at a million miles an hour. Instead of heading into the bakery, though, we head next door, finally coming to a standstill in the middle of the room.
In contrast to the bakery, where most of the space is used for the kitchen, this store used to be a dress shop. The main area is large and spacious, with a small washroom area and storage area out the back. In my mind, I can already see a large glass counter filled with delicious cakes and a hulking great coffee machine, a couple of large wooden tables surrounded by mismatched chairs, comfy sofas lining the walls covered in art by local artists.
“Oh, sweetie, this is going to be fabulous,” my mum gasps, echoing my thoughts. As I talk through my thoughts and ideas, she interjects with additions of her own, and I find myself grinning at her enthusiasm. My dad has remained very quiet through all of our female gabble, but when I glance over at him, I can see him scribbling down notes furiously, a smile on his face.
We talk about our options in terms of joining the two shops, and Dad seems confi
dent that only minor work will actually be required. Joining the flats above will be way more complicated, but my parents’ experience in renovations seems to have given them confidence that the work won’t take all that long. After all, what else do models do in between jobs, apart from attending premieres and swanky parties, that is?
“Okay, I guess the next step is talking to some building contractors and getting some quotes?” I ask my dad. “Taylor had a list on the info he gave me, but I think I would prefer to use someone local if we can.”
“That makes sense. We should talk to Bea. I bet she knows some local guys,” Dad responds.
We head back into the bakery, arguing about what we should name the new café. Do we give it a separate name even though the buildings will effectively be joined, or do we rename the bakery as well? None of us can seem to agree, and it is not until Andreas pops his head through the kitchen door that we finally come to an agreement.
“How about ‘Cake’? And then we can add an ‘&’ between the buildings, bringing them together…” Andreas trails off, looking a little unsure about his suggestion. “I know it is a bit simple, but everyone round here knows Bread, and if we change the name…”
“That’s brilliant, Andreas. It’s perfect!” I interrupt excitedly. “Bread & Cake…I love it. I can already picture the new sign in my head.” With everyone in agreement, I scribble down a note to find a sign maker.
When I tune back into the conversation, I hear my dad asking Bea about local builders and she responds by telling us that her nephew, James, has recently started his own business and has just finished on a job. I ask her to give him a call and get him to come in to give us a quote. A couple of minutes later and Bea lets us know that James is coming over for a chat. Perfect. It seems like things are slotting into place.
James is a complete sweetie. Whereas Bea is loud and chatty and just a little bit scatty, James is soft-spoken with a calm and authoritative manner. Mum, Dad and I instantly click with him, and when we start going through the scope of the project, he seems to get genuinely excited, even offering some cost-saving suggestions that we would never have thought of. After taking down the details, James heads off to work out the costs, promising to come back with a quote overnight.
“Well, it does seem like we have got the ball rolling on this,” Dad says with a smile. I find myself jumping with glee and clapping my hands like an overexcited five-year-old. My mum smiles at me indulgently. “We are so happy to see you so happy, darling. Now, are you absolutely sure that you want Dad and I to project-manage everything?”
“For the millionth time, yes, Mum. I trust you guys completely, and there is no way I can do this all on my own. With you guys managing the renovations—which, by the way, you have way more experience with than me—I can at least get on with all the marketing and the signage, et cetera. Plus we also need to take on all the extra staff and apprentices. So, all in all, you guys would be making life so much easier for me.”
“Well, as long as you are sure…” Mum trails off.
“One hundred percent sure. As long as you guys want to be involved, anything is fine with me. We are partners now.” With that I pull these amazing people into a great big hug. I know it took something truly awful to bring us together like this, but I can’t regret the closeness I now have with my parents.
.........................
“Wow, I mean, seriously wow,” Michelle shouts down the phone at me.
“Hey, I am right here. No need to blow my eardrums,” I admonish, chuckling, before I carry on bringing her up to speed with the day’s events. My friendship with Michelle changed after my ‘incident’. Despite the fact that when we worked together she knew everything about me, when I came down to Brighton and my life spiralled out of control, I kind of flaked on her. Yet the day after I returned home from The Clinic and Taylor’s crazy midnight drunken proposal, Michelle turned up on my doorstep, bringing chocolate and caffeine, my drugs of choice, and unflinching support.
Since then I have been under strict orders to keep Michelle in the loop, so I have done my best to keep her up to date via text and email. In return she posts random inspirational thoughts on my Facebook timeline and phones me when she has a spare five minutes here and there.
“Seriously, Abs, this sounds amazing. I can’t wait to see the place when it is renovated.”
“I know. I have left Mum in charge of dealing with the contractors, but I feel confident that she understands my vision for the place. At the moment, I think the biggest issue is going to be finding local artists who might want to exhibit. I have this idea of painting each wall a different colour and then using them to showcase collections, either of the same artist or different artists focusing on a theme,” I say.
“That sounds awesome, Abby. I know it is going to be a great success.”
“I hope so, Chelle. I just can’t help feeling that life can’t be this good. Like something bad is just around the corner.”
“Hon, I think you have had a lifetime’s worth of bad already. This is just the balance, like yin and yang, making up for all the crap you’ve been dealt so far,” Michelle says, her voice dropping to a reassuring tone.
“I really hope so, Chelle. There is so much riding on this. It’s my parents’ money invested in this, and I just couldn’t stand if anything were to go wrong. I know it sounds silly, but for the first time it feels like I have a real relationship with them, and it would kill me if I disappointed them again.”
“Abs, seriously, what you did was not a ‘disappointment’, as you put it. It was about time your parents woke up and saw you for the amazing person you are,” Michelle says urgently.
“Thanks, Chelle. You always know just what to say,” I respond.
“I know, sweetie. That’s my gift,” Michelle chuckles.
We carry on chatting for a few minutes more as she brings me up to speed with her latest dating disaster with some guy called Fred, who decided it was appropriate to talk about his ex-girlfriend throughout the meal and then expected Michelle to pay.
“I mean, seriously, I just don’t think I can do Internet dating anymore,” gripes Michelle. “Their profiles say one thing and then you sit down and find out they are nothing like they said they were. It’s like having to learn estate-agent-speak, you know…‘could do with minor work’ means ‘craphole’ and ‘bijou,’ well, I guess that means ‘tiny shoebox’. I think someone needs to put together a dictionary for dating websites.”
I giggle in return, “Ah bless, hon. Sounds like a nightmare. But Mr Right must be right round the corner. Just you wait…”
“I seriously think I have already had my turn. I loved Jeremy so much and now no one seems to be able to match up. I end up comparing everyone to him, and it’s not like he was even a bloody saint! I am fed up with the sons of my parents’ friends, and yet anyone vaguely normal seems to be anything but. I think I am just destined to die alone surrounded by eighteen cats.”
Michelle lets out a dramatic sigh, and I can’t help but laugh despite empathising with her situation. “Nah, at least twenty-two cats…but seriously, sweetie, it will work out. You will see. You just have to have some faith.”
We finish off our conversation, with Michelle promising to come down for a visit next weekend, which fills me with happiness. It has been too long since we have sat down together and had a proper natter. Snatched minutes here and there just aren’t enough time, and I really do miss my best friend.
Glancing outside, I notice that darkness has descended and I remember that Taylor promised to be home early. I head into the kitchen to check out what I have in the fridge to make for dinner and find it empty. Bugger! I am just running through my mental Rolodex of decent local takeaways that I can suggest to Taylor as I just can’t face eating out after my busy day when I hear his key in the lock.
“Hey, Abs, you up there?” Taylor calls out whilst making his way up the stairs.
“Uh-huh. I am in the kitchen,” I say just before he po
ps his head around the door frame. “It’s official. The fridge is empty. Takeaway?” I suggest.
“Sounds good to me,” Taylor agrees. We argue back and forth, finally settling on Thai. Yum, my favourite. While Taylor calls in our order, I head into the bedroom to change. Shrugging off my jeans, I pull on a pair of fleecy pyjama bottoms covered in cute owls and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I am just pulling on a comfy long cardigan when I hear Taylor’s phone ring.
“Sorry, Abs, I have to get this. Could you listen out for the door?” Taylor calls through.
“Sure thing,” I respond. It must be important if someone is calling at this time on a Friday night, so I give him his space, grabbing my e-reader and settling down on the top step to wait for our food. I am so engrossed in my book that the knock on the door startles me. I can hear Taylor talking urgently so I take the food into the kitchen and help myself before putting the rest in the oven to stay warm, too hungry to wait.
I am just about finished scoffing down my pad thai when Taylor walks into the kitchen, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Abs, that took longer than I thought.”
“No worries. Sorry I was starving and couldn’t wait,” I reply sheepishly.
“It’s all good,” Taylor replies, planting a kiss on the top of my head before grabbing the containers out of the oven to serve himself. As he eats, Taylor tells me about his call. A rare chilli plant has been found in the Amazon, protected by a tribe deep in the jungle who use it for ceremonial purposes. But the flavour is unique, and Taylor has approached the leader of the tribe through an intermediary about securing some clippings so that they can try and grow them here. “Their habitat is under threat from logging, so I am suggesting that, in exchange for the cuttings, we help the tribe protect their lands. But it means I am going to have to take a trip out there in the next couple of weeks to get everything set up,” Taylor finishes up.
Book Two: Thirty Days, Book 2 Page 8
