by Claire Ayres
Rumours
by
Claire Ayres
Copyright © 2019 Claire Ayres
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by CT Cover Creations
To everyone still looking for love
Prologue
Blair
Three Years Ago
I open the door and stumbles through with arms piled high of material samples from every store I could find. My wedding is two months away and I will be busy making table centrepieces once I decide what they will look like. My dress fitting was earlier today, a reminder the big day is closing in and these centrepieces need to be made before time runs out and the tables lay bare. I grin at the memory of my dress and how it clung beautifully to her body, the skirt pooling around her feet and the long sleeves gently clutching her arms. Scott is going to love it.
She drops the samples on the dining table and picks up the post from the mat. Sorting through it as she walks into the kitchen she assigns it all to the junk pile and makes herself an Earl Grey tea. Sitting down at the dining table she starts going through the samples, playing close attention to the texture and colour. A small pile appears next to her of the samples she likes the most, the ones she thinks will work well for the floral centrepieces she is thinking of creating.
Her phone rings with a text message from Scott.
Scott: Hi Sweetheart, Work is awful, I’m going to be late again. At least the overtime is great for the wedding eh? I love you.
She adored him immensely, he always kept in touch with her, even if he did work late all the time. When he was home he was loving and attentive, always interested in the wedding plans and had been actively involved in all of the decisions. As a wedding photographer Blair had seen every type of wedding on the planet, helping her know exactly what she could want with a certainty very few brides have. Scott provided input and was happy to go along with Blair’s choices, to help when she asked.
Blair: Not again, I will miss you. I’m deciding on the centrepieces. I’ll cook dinner and leave it on the side for you. I love you too.
Scott: Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll order into the office. Get some blue in those centrepieces ;)
Blair: Consider it done.
Putting her phone aside she starts working with her shortlisted fabrics and creates a small floral bouquet, rolling the pink fabric to look like a small rose, then using some of the darker shades to make ribbons at the base. The result is a beautiful fabric bouquet with pinks, whites, and, of course, blue in the mix.
Happy with her prototype and having decided which fabrics and colours she will want, she works out how much of each fabric she will need for the 10 tables at the wedding. Once this is complete she phones through an order to the fabric store, who say they will have it in stock the following day.
Feeling accomplished Blair heads to her studio to spend some time in the darkroom processing photographs from her latest wedding. She loves photographing weddings, catching people’s happiest days, and seeing them at their best. Even those people who hate having their photo taken suddenly become world class models during their wedding, thrilled their special day is captured forever on film. As she processes the images her phone rings. Leaving it to go to voicemail she continues working and smiles when she looks at her favourite image of the couple which she caught by chance. One of the women had started walking away because the formal shoot was over and the other had looked up, her face full of love and longing. It was a perfect split-second moment Blair managed to capture forever.
Having hung the final photograph to dry Blair walks back downstairs to cook dinner, unable to hide her happiness, her eyes crinkling with joy as the idea of her own wedding runs through her head again. Her thoughts are disturbed by her phone ringing and she runs to pick it up from the dining table stubbing her toe on the way and crying out as the pain radiates from her toe up her leg. As she hops around with one hand on her foot trying not to moan, she swipes to answer and puts the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” She hops and rubs her toe, almost falling over from the loss of balance. She’s a one-woman comedy show and manages to stop herself from taking a bow to her invisible audience.
“Blair, I thought you were ignoring me,” says a sombre voice.
“Dean? Why would I ignore you?” She pulls out a dining chair and sits, the pain now subsiding in her toe. “What’s wrong, you don’t sound like yourself?” Dean is normally the joker of the group, always laughing and teasing. To hear him sound this low and serious sets off alarm bells.
“Can I come over? I really need to talk to you.” His tone implies this isn’t really a question. Blair feels his desperation through the phone and knows whatever is wrong it’s important.
“Of course, come over now. Scott is working late so it’ll only be us. We can talk about whatever you want, OK?”
“Thanks, Blair, I’ll see you soon.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and rings off.
Blair thinks about what must be going on for Dean to sound this low. Maybe he is having a problem with work, or he could have had a girlfriend she didn’t know about but doubts it. They are a very close-knit group. Dean, Scott, and Aaron have been friends since school and she and Emblyn have been friends with each other and the boys since University. The five of them have been a unit in Plymouth, and the only change occurred when she and Scott became a couple when they were 24, five years ago.
She goes to the kitchen and starts cooking the stir-fry she had planned for her and Scott. Dean won’t have eaten by the way he sounded on the phone and feeding him will be a good idea, especially if he has something upsetting to talk about. As she browns the meat she pops the kettle back on to make another tea, opting for something a little fruitier this time, before turning back to her cooking. As she plates the food up, there is a knock at the door which she opens to find Dean standing there wringing his hands, his eyes furrowed in a deep frown. She puts her hand on his lower arm and pulls him inside.
“Come on, let’s eat the dinner I cooked while you tell me whatever has you worked up.” She turns her smile on him, her dimples digging into her cheeks and she holds her hand out so he has to take it, she leads him into the kitchen where the food is waiting.
“What do you want to drink?” she asks him, thinking he will want some Dutch courage by the look on his face.
“Could I get a tea? Whatever you’re having.”
“You sure? I’m going fruity.” She giggles, and he nods, looking sad. She feels a surge of anger at whatever has made this lovely man look full of despair and hopes she can help him feel better once he opens up.
“Here you are, one tea. I feel like I should take a photo and memorialise the moment you drank my tea!” The comment falls on deaf ears, normally he would have a sarcastic comeback not today though. Sitting she takes his hand, looking her friend in the eye. “Dean, you’re scaring me. What on earth has upset you this much?”
Dean takes his hand away, drops his head into his hands and groans, swearing under his breath while he runs his fingers through his hair. Then he locks eyes with Blair.
“Scott.” This is all he says, letting her fiancé's name sink in. The confusion starting to rise along with a million questions. She opens her mouth to say something and he puts his finger on her lips, such an intimate gesture leaving her shocked so she closes her mouth and pouts.
“I told him to tell you, Blair, I told him to be honest with you.”
Her breath drains from her l
ungs, she realises there is something bigger going on, something which has been hidden from her and Dean is betraying his best friend to tell her. She holds back the tears forming in her eyes, telling herself she is stronger than that.
“I told him if he didn’t tell you, I would.” He looks at Blair. “I’m sorry Blair, I shouldn’t be the one sitting here doing this.”
“Dean, I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t sweetheart, shit this is hard.” He rubs his hands on his thighs, fighting to find the words to say whatever he came there to say. “Scott has been cheating on you.”
Blair’s eyes become saucers, she stops breathing and grips the table. Dean leans forward and takes her hand.
“Are you OK? I’m not finished, and I need to know you’re OK?” He never waivers on keeping eye contact.
“I’m OK.” Blair needs to hear everything, to know how much of a fool she has been. She won’t cry, even though the news pummels her heart. She won’t let Dean see what his friend has done to her.
“He has been seeing someone else for six months, telling you he has to work late, then spending time with her.”
Blair sucks in the air, telling herself she is strong, she can get through this.
“Shit, Blair, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. The other woman. Fuck. She’s pregnant, Blair.”
As those words sink in, all Blair’s promises to be strong dissolve and she collapses from the chair and crash onto her knees on the floor, her mug smashing to the tiles beside her leaving her kneeling in hot fruity tea and she doesn’t feel it, not even for a second. Every dream of the perfect wedding disappears, all the happiness she thought she had is gone in an instant.
Dean kneels opposite her getting matching tea stains on his knees while putting his arms around her, bringing her in for an all-encompassing hug. She falls into Deans embrace and allows one tear to escape. Her life has been destroyed. Her love and her trust ripped from her as though they meant absolutely nothing.
Chapter One
Mark
Present Day
I place my Cello on the floor and stretch my back, rehearsals today were brutal and all I want is a stiff drink and the love of a good woman in my bed to help me forget the aches rippling through every muscle. Flipping through my phone I try and decide who I should call when there is a rap on the door. Tossing my phone to the chair I open the door where my best friend and fellow Cellist Luka is standing.
“What’s up?” I stand aside so he can come in, Luka lives next door with his fiancé Jess, who I rent this place from.
“That rehearsal was awful. Thought you might want a drink?” He waves a bottle of 18-year-old Johnnie Walker and I laugh at his ability to read my mind.
“Well you’re not quite the woman I had in mind, but that whiskey will do quite nicely.”
Luka and I met at University, he was a shy and quiet boy of 18 back then. He hadn’t grown into his looks, had limp hair and was only comfortable behind his Cello. He came from a poor Italian family who worked their asses off to get him into University and support his musical aspirations, I come from a political family who hated my dreams and still do, I was supposed to be an MP like my Father and Sister. Luka and I were the only boys in our year who played the Cello. We were surrounded by women, serious musical women and it was daunting, so we stuck together and soon became friends, gradually becoming inseparable. Eventually we rubbed off on each other and gained confidence with the girls, me more than him, Luka always held back, he was never so good with the one-night stands which is ironic given the looks he was blessed with. Now here we are in our thirties drinking whiskey, still playing our Cellos and living next door to each other.
Luka hands me a tumbler and as I take a sip I get a kick of orange from the whiskey as it goes down, a perfect way to clear the day.
“You almost ready for your party then mate?” I sink into one of my comfy armchairs, Jess left some great furniture in here for me which I’m grateful for daily, I rented out my place in London when I moved to Bristol, so all my furniture stayed there making this arrangement perfect.
“I think so, to be honest Jess has been organising it. She’s a machine!” Luka slouches on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table.
“Hah you think she’s bad now, wait until she’s planning the wedding!” I laugh at Luka, tipping the glass in his direction before taking another sip.
“Christ, don’t remind me. When I asked her to marry me I had no idea the monster I was unleashing!” He laughs good-heartedly. We both know nothing could have stopped Luka from proposing to Jess. He loves her with everything he has, and they are the perfect match. I spent months telling him so before he caved in.
“Do you want a top up?” I stand, and Luka hands his glass over, I top the drinks up then take my seat again asking Luka. “What got into Henry today? I thought my arms were going to fall off by the time we finally left.” Henry is the conductor at the orchestra we both work and play for.
“I have no idea, I’m exhausted. I won’t be rehearsing tonight.” Luka is relentless with his rehearsing, there is no doubt why he is first chair and I am second. I am not willing to put the hours in that Luka does. Even now he has Jess he rehearses constantly.
“Mate, you rehearse too much anyway. I’m sure Jess will appreciate you having a night off.”
“I’m sure she will, but she has no problem with my rehearsing, we still hang out together when I’m rehearsing. I don’t just lock myself away.” He gives me his snarky ‘don’t start with me’ look and I burst out laughing.
“You are so funny. I might come and hang out when you’re rehearsing one day, see what really goes on with you two!”
“Fuck off Mark.” He picks up and throws a magazine which catches me on the side of my head.
“Well that was mean, asshole!” I finish my drink, placing the glass on the table laughing, before picking up my light sabre and swinging it around while Luka sits and laughs, shaking his head. We’re so busy messing around we miss the knock on the door, or the door opening.
“Should have guessed you two would be in here acting like ten-year olds.” Luka coughs and visibly holds his laughter, I stand still holding the light sabre behind my back and smile at Jess who is standing in the doorway her hands on her hips, a smile on her face and shining eyes glued to Luka. It’s almost sickening how in love these two are, except I’m insanely jealous. I’ve always loved playing the field, having no commitments. But seeing my best friend this happy, seeing how Jess looks at him. I want that, who wouldn’t?
Luka composes himself and walks across the room, sweeping Jess into his arms before planting a kiss on her that makes me think I should give them some privacy. I opt to sit back in the chair and flick through the magazine Luka had thrown my way.
“I thought you had to work late?” He says pulling away and leading her to the couch, so they can sit together.
“I did, it’s 7pm, what have you two been up to other than playing Star Wars and throwing all of Mark’s things around the room?”
We both fall into laughter again and Jess just rolls her eyes. We may be fully grown men but put us together and the boys will always win out.
“Are you hungry? We could order in?” I ask
“Yes, I’m starving” Jess jumps in.
I head to the kitchen to get the take-out menus. Tossing them to Jess and Luka so that they can pick what they want. Once we’ve called in our order we settle down with drinks.
“Mark, there are quite a few single ladies going to our party. Do you want me to introduce you to any of them?” Jess gives me her look, the one she gives me a lot. I don’t know if she senses the envy I have towards her and Luka or if she just wants me to have a partner, so we become a foursome, but she has been single-minded when it comes to telling me about women she knows that I may like, it’s painful. Whatever her reasons, and however I may really feel, I don’t let her, or Luka know how I really feel. As far as anybody knows I am still the
committed playboy.
“No Jess, no set ups. You know how I feel about that.”
“But Mark, come on you would be so happy if you met someone nice.” Her eyes glow as she talks, her own experience shining through.
“Luka, control your woman.”
“Oi, cheeky bastard.” She laughs but her face has a serious frown telling me not to cross her. “Mark, I just want to see you happy.”
“Jess, I am happy. I don’t need a girlfriend to make me happy.” Wow, when did I become such a good liar?
Jess comes over and sits on my knee, taking my hand in hers. “Fine, but Mark, if you change your mind, or decide to just be honest.” She stops and looks me in the eye. “You tell me OK? Because I have a list of friends who would jump at the chance to date you.”
After we finish eating Jess and Luka go back to their apartment and I’m left to think about what she said. Should I just start being honest with her and Luka about what I want? I keep playing the lad, having one-night stands acting as though I don’t care and am not after what they have but I know I do and what is wrong with telling them? Who does it hurt if they know that I want it, that I want to meet someone who makes me feel loved and happy?
I think a lot of it comes down to knowing that I don’t deserve it, I’ve done things in my past I’m not proud of and have probably meant that karma will punish me deeply and ensure I never find love. That fear follows me daily, so I think admitting to what I want would make it all far too real, especially that fear.
I’m feeling pretty beat after the long day and decide to get an early night when my phone rings. With a groan I answer it.
“Hello Father.”
“Mark, how are you, Son?” I could never understand why he did that, named me then reminded me I was his son at the end of the sentence? My Parents infuriated me.
“I’m tired, it’s been a long day.” Get to the point Dad.
