Forbidden to Want

by JC Harroway

  I sigh, succumbing to the powerless feeling still rattling my skeleton, which is way too familiar and as uncomfortable as the fiery pits of hell.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mia

  I KNEW IT would happen the first day I met him. It was the eyes. I’m a stupid woman who broke her own rules, only to discover she’d been right all along. But the victory, the confirmation is far from triumphant. Because...feelings. Even the word sucks.

  Kit began his tactical withdrawal before we even left Jersey. Yes, I’d laid down the gauntlet with my speech on our differences and all along I’d been expecting to be cast aside. I want to slap myself. Because although that suited me at the start, a tiny part of me thought, hoped, he might be ready to fight for me, for us.

  Stupid woman.

  Of course he was polite after our argument, dropping me home, accepting my excuse of needing a couple of days to get the editing done a little too readily.

  With a bolstering sigh, I exit the elevator on the Faulkner Group floor and try not to fidget with the new outfit I bought specially for my handover meeting with the Faulkner brothers—a simple trouser suit I’ll never wear again.

  It’s pathetic. A cliché, I know. But the outfit protects me like a crash helmet or a safety harness and I need armour for this encounter. My old defence mechanisms were clearly as shoddy and friable as a sandcastle. And if I have to face Kit one last time, I need the power balance to sway my way a fraction.

  Despite my walls and my battles, and my denials, in the end he achieved the one thing I’ve resisted all these years.

  He made me care.

  He made me fall.

  I make a fist—I want to punch him and kiss him in equal measure. But neither is an option and I only have myself to blame.

  ‘Mia. Lovely to see you again.’ Reid shakes my hand. Drake smiles and offers me a seat.

  Kit, busy at the bar, slides his closed-off stare my way and lifts his chin in greeting. ‘Mia.’

  Icy blood stills in my veins so I’m grateful for the suit jacket as I stare at those intense eyes I should have run from the first day we met in this very office. I’d known back then he was dangerous. Turns out I couldn’t handle the challenge unscathed.

  I refuse his offer of a drink and settle in the same white leather armchair.

  ‘I’ve watched the video,’ says Reid. ‘It’s exactly what we wanted. Thank you.’ He’s all business, perhaps immune to the tension filling the room.

  ‘You’re welcome—you’ve been dream clients. Thank you for the testimonial.’ I risk a look at Kit—I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding looking at him, although my eyes burn at the sight.

  I tell myself this is what I wanted all along—just sex, a fling we could walk away from. So why is it hard to draw breath...?

  My fingers fidget, this time recalling the tactile memory of his silky hair, his abrasive scruff, his satin skin over the sculpted steel of his muscles.

  Drake glances at Kit, who is perched on the front of his desk, his finger and thumb tracing his bottom lip as he observes the meeting from afar. I force myself to direct a question his way, just to prove I’m not distraught by his rejection, his return to cool indifference.

  ‘Any questions for me in relation to the video? I’ve emailed the files, so the finished footage is all ready to upload onto the hotels’ websites.’

  At last he finds his voice. ‘Thank you. I think we’re perfectly happy.’

  It might as well be a secret message, a hidden meaning, only for me.

  We no longer need you. We never did.

  I stand, restless legs propelling me upright. ‘Great. If only all my clients were so accommodating.’ I laugh for good measure, although it’s hollow to my ears.

  See, Mr Faulkner. I don’t need you either.

  Reid takes my hand again. ‘What are your plans now, Mia?’

  I clear my dry throat. ‘I’m off to South America tonight.’

  ‘You moved your trip up?’ asks Drake.

  I nod, searching for the flutter of excitement for the trip I planned months ago.

  ‘Tonight?’ This from Kit, who’s managed to overcome his apathy, abandon his perch and join us at the threshold to his office.

  I nod, focussed on Drake. ‘Yes. I changed my flight. Your project ran so smoothly, I’m a few days ahead of schedule—I’ll have time to catch Peru’s Festival of the Sun.’

  Reid smiles, his concerned eyes flicking in Kit’s direction. ‘Well. Safe travels, and come to see us next time you’re in London. And if you ever need a place to stay, you’ll always have a room available to you at the Faulkner.’

  I swallow, his kindness touching, even though I can never make use of his offer. ‘Thank you.’

  I stick out my hand in Kit’s direction, praying it stays tremble-free. Our shake is brief, polite, a perfect ending to our time together. I smile. It’s genuine. He never duped me; he gave me all he could. And I believed it was enough.

  ‘Ka kite ano,’ I say. ‘That’s “see you” in Te Reo Maori.’

  I slide my hand from his, trying not to miss its warmth. My legs win, successfully carrying me away from him and keeping me upright. I’m waiting for the lift, searching for one tenth of the thrill I’m expecting for my next adventure, when I sense him behind me.

  ‘So, no goodbye...?’ His breath tickles the hairs at my nape, where I’ve scooped the rest into a messy topknot.

  I turn, ensuring my face stays relaxed by digging my short nails into my palm. ‘I thought we just did goodbye.’

  ‘Technically “see you” implies “see you again”.’ His hands are in his trouser pockets, his shirt is immaculate and his spicy scent slaps me in the face. Beautiful, untouchable and firmly back in control.

  Air gusts from his nose as he presses his lips together, as if frustrated with a mischievous child. ‘Look, Mia...’ He draws in a breath and I know the brush-off is coming. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Bam.

  I feign confusion while my stomach turns inside out. ‘Why?’

  He peers down at me, shrewd eyes searching while the seconds stretch.

  ‘For my rudeness, the clothes, prying into your personal stuff, overreacting in Jersey...’ He hesitates. ‘For...for making you promise to come back. For all of it—I had no right.’

  Because you don’t want the right. You don’t want me.

  My face feels like a rubber mask as I smile. ‘No worries. I hope I didn’t give you too many grey hairs with my...antics.’

  Look at us, being all adult...

  Kit sighs, as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. Of course, it’s what I’m not saying that carries more import. And Kit is right there with me. We’re both cowards. Both skirting the unsaid.

  ‘How are your ribs?’

  ‘Good, thanks. No fractures.’ I shrug. ‘How’s Bob?’

  ‘Great—a bit of a diva, to be honest. He’s started his own YouTube channel.’ The humour doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but I laugh. I can’t help myself. I’ve always been helpless to the Kit effect.

  Awkward silence settles.

  Kit stares for long seconds. I employ every ounce of control my body possesses to keep myself from fidgeting.

  He dips his chin, his voice, his stare earnest. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t offer you more.’ His voice breaks, genuine regret shining in his beautiful eyes. ‘As you established, I’m a selfish, controlling fuck-up. You deserve more, Mia.’

  I nod, a small, stupid smile stuck on my face while my head bobs, too heavy for my neck to support. There it is—his line in the sand. Right where I knew it would be.

  Despite feeling like I’ve taken a second blow to the ribs, my chest aches for Kit. For his loss. For his unresolved emotions. For the timing. Would it be different had we met three years down the track?

  But it is what
it is—I’m leaving.

  And I love him. The last thing he’ll want to hear.

  ‘I never wanted more, Kit.’

  Coward.

  I make a fist to stop myself reaching for his hand, a place that doesn’t belong to me, no matter how comfortable.

  I can’t say everything I feel, but I can say something. ‘Thanks for inviting me into your family for a while.’

  I need to leave. Now.

  I suck it up, fearless Mia once more. ‘Don’t punish yourself for ever. You did everything you could.’

  The flash of pain in his eyes tells me he understands. Then he scowls. What did I expect? Kit’s an expert at wall-building.

  ‘Goodbye.’ I turn away, my throat hot, terrified my mask might slip before I have a chance to flee.

  ‘Mia.’

  I spin, my smile wobbling on lips desperate to feel his kiss one last time.

  ‘For what it’s worth, I wish things could be different with me...with us.’

  Just when he seems about to speak again, the lift arrives and my belly somersaults as if I’m already hurtling towards the ground.

  I step inside and look anywhere but at Kit, who is framed in the doorway.

  The cool metal square marked with a G is rubbery under my fingertip as I press the button that seals my fate. Just before the doors close, I look up into Kit’s eyes, determined to brave it out, to prove something.

  See. I’m not in love with you at all. I’m walking away, without a backward glance.

  The words that come, a faint whisper scraped past my tight vocal cords, shock the hell out of me and deepen Kit’s scowl.

  ‘I’ll miss Bob.’

  The metal doors slide into place, separating us.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  ‘You’re sure you don’t want me to wait with you?’ Will’s concern shines from his kind, intelligent and worried eyes. I can’t speak so I shake my head, jump out and busy myself with retrieving my economical luggage from the boot.

  Before we set off for Heathrow I hand-delivered the unworn dresses to Harvey Nichols, donated the worn, dry-cleaned ones to Will’s local charity shop and used my fat fee from the Faulkner Group to buy a new drone and action camera. I realised, after I said his name, that the last time I saw the old one it was strapped to Bob. Kit must have it. Or it’s still in Jersey. Either way, it’s easier for my mental health to replace it rather than see Kit again.

  As jobs go, it’s been an expensive one in terms of damages and losses. But as I snuggle into my brother’s hug, pressing my eyes into his chest to stem the tears, I know it could have been worse.

  I’m free again. I’m me again.

  I wait for the familiar buzz but it doesn’t materialise. I tell myself it’s a baby thing, leaving now, for work, when I could be decorating the nursery with Will and Josh...

  But it’s more.

  It’s the age-old trap—woman meets unavailable man, falls in love, then realises too late she doesn’t possess the superpowers to change a single thing.

  I’m so early for my flight. The check-in line is blessedly short, despite the number of people filling the busy terminal.

  I’ll be back in London—how can I not be? I’m going to be an auntie to a boy with special needs. Will and Josh will need support. And, when I get back from South America, I’m going to meet my biological mother—I have her name and address and contact number in my phone and I won’t allow my past to hold me prisoner.

  Thinking of fear reminds me of Kit—everything reminds me of Kit. His fear is understandable. Opening his heart again is a big risk for a man with his past. But who am I to judge—I’ve let my own fear hold me back for so long? Perhaps we can even be friends...in time.

  Maybe.

  I glance at the doors, the steady stream of people coming and going, none of them with the right face. I swallow, looking away while I blink enough times for the burn to leave my eyes.

  With time to kill, I wander into Harrods and get lost amongst the T-shirts, selecting one in ages one, two and three for my new nephew, to be on the safe side. I’ll mail them to Will from South America.

  I’m smiling to myself at my tiny purchases, my shiny green carrier bag swinging by my side as I emerge back into the hustle and bustle of the terminal, when I come to a complete standstill.

  Standing on a chair, head and shoulders above the milling travellers, his head jerking to the left and then to the right as he frantically searches, is Kit.

  The air leaves my chest in a whoosh to make space for my double-sized heart and its rapid thumping.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kit

  I’M ABOUT TO tear my hair from my scalp, impotence and rage at my own stupidity boiling up inside, when I scan the shopfronts for the third time. The air is knocked from my lungs as I spy her standing among the chaotic moving sea of bodies, a tranquil island in stormy waters.

  My heart skips several beats until I fear I’ll black out.

  I haven’t missed my chance.

  She’s obviously seen me, because I’m standing on a chair like a pretentious arsehole, drawing attention to myself.

  By the time I fight my way through the crowds, sustaining only minor calf injuries from the cases and trolleys in my way, she offers me the frosty reception I deserve.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  Straight to the point. No bullshit. Perfect. I fight a smile.

  ‘What’s in the bag?’ I stall, uncharacteristic hesitation tripping me up. Reid and Drake’s words ring in my ears... ‘Don’t let her leave without telling her how you feel...of course you deserve another chance...grab her before it’s too late, dumb-arse.’

  My brothers can turn a pretty phrase when the circumstances warrant. But Mia was right. They have been there for me and I’ve been treating them, and anyone else around me, like shit in compensation for my own pain. But the only time it lessened was with her.

  Mia made me want to smile again. She gave me everything—her trust, her joy, her bravery—and she gave me back Bob. But most importantly she gave me hope of a future.

  ‘Baby clothes—well, toddler clothes. For Will and Josh.’

  I nod, my head so light it could pop like a balloon. ‘So you will be back, then...? To London...?’

  She shrugs.

  I deserve that.

  Then she lifts her chin. ‘Of course. I have family here.’

  Not for me...?

  I deserve that too.

  I wince. I have lots of making up to do. The fidgeting catches my eye. As soon as I glance down she stops.

  ‘You’re nervous?’ Her tell gives me hope. That she’s not forming a fist and planting it in my stupid face gives me hope. That she hasn’t run away, through Security and out of my reach, gives me hope.

  She bristles, standing taller, her eyes wary. ‘I do it a lot, but I don’t like flying.’

  I nod, my hand reaching for hers, sliding down her wrist until our fingers connect, slot together, meld. ‘What you need,’ I step closer, sucking in honeysuckle, ‘is someone to hold your hand.’ Until this moment I hadn’t been certain what I intended to say, but calmness settles over me and the hustle of bodies, the stares, even the piped airport music drains away until everything shunts into sharp and brilliant focus. Everything becomes Mia.

  The answer has been shadowing my life for the past two weeks, having marched in, uninvited by me, challenged the hell out of me and then effortlessly filled the unfillable void.

  She frowns, still unconvinced. I increase the pressure on her hand—I’m not letting go this time. I’m doing this in front of an audience of strangers because I’m an idiot, but, like Reid and Drake, she probably knows that about me.

  I swallow. ‘I thought I wasn’t ready. Thought I didn’t deserve another shot.’

  ‘At what?’ A wrinkl
e settles between her brows even as her cheeks flush.

  ‘At love. I love you, Mia. And I want a chance to start over, to see you again, to give you as much as you’ve given me.’

  She frowns. I made her doubt.

  With my free hand I cup her face, sliding my fingers into her hair, hold her eye contact so she sees my truth.

  ‘You’re fearless and funny and generous and so fucking beautiful.’ I squeeze her hand. ‘You never took my crap—you challenged me. I got caught up in regret...in guilt.’ I wince, starting over. ‘Look, I’m not asking you to stay—I know you have work to do. But if you come back—’ please come back ‘—when you come back, I’ll be here...ready to hold your hand if ever and whenever you need support, comfort, body heat...’ I clamp my mouth shut before I do more damage than repair.

  My chest is trapped in a vice.

  She chews her lip, her eyes flicking between mine, as if searching.

  Fuck this, I’m all in. Time to tell her.

  I tug her closer, dip my head towards the mouth I’m dying to kiss. ‘Look, I love you, just as you are, and you can still be you even if you love me back one day. I know I’ll still fuck up, I’ll still have triggers and bad days, but I’ll wait. And whether it’s while you search for your parents or simply tell the man who’s in love with you to fuck off,’ I look down at our joined hands, my fingers tightening on hers, ‘my hand will always be here, ready and willing.’

  I look up. If I’ve blown it, I can take it.

  Don’t let me have blown it...

  And then she kisses me, the rustle of the monogrammed carrier bag clasped in her hand blocking out whatever she said before her mouth touched mine. But I’ll take deafness, because Mia shows me all I need to know with her kiss and the way, when I lift her from the floor, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my hips.

  ‘What did you say?’ I laugh when she lets me up for air.

  ‘I called you a rude name.’ She kisses me again, my jaw, my cheeks, my nose.