by Mia Hoddell
Takeout pizza didn’t count.
The oven timer pinging caught my attention. The bake looked perfect and the smell alone made my mouth water.
As I assembled the macarons an idea came to me. I couldn’t control the grin tugging at my lips. I planned to bribe Dustin into seeing me with food. He had mentioned Raine had a sweet tooth so I hoped he did too. If not, he could seriously need a sugar high. At least it’d be better than an alcoholic stupor.
Once I’d sandwiched the final macaron together, I picked up my piping bag again.
Chapter Ten
Dustin
I grumbled at the insistent knocking on my front door. I knew who it was and for a split second I considered not answering. After all, if I wanted company I wouldn’t have retreated to my flat. Nevertheless, I had a feeling Tazia wouldn’t leave until I answered. She struck me as the stubborn type.
Dropping the pizza boxes I’d been cleaning up in the recycle bin, I brushed off the crumbs stuck to my hands and wiped them on my jeans. My palms were surprisingly sweaty and my rapid heartbeat only made them worse. I couldn’t be sure whether the nerves were because of Tazia’s presence, or the thought she’d have me spilling my guts within minutes of opening the door. I assumed it was the latter option, and still I couldn’t find the willpower to send her away. I needed her to erase the remnants of my thoughts that hadn’t been dissolved by my furious cleaning session.
It was strange how fast I’d come to rely on Tazia. I didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d worked her way past all of my anger and grief quicker than anyone I’d known. I thought it would be years before I let someone in again. Elora hadn’t blinded me to people’s goodness or created a bitterness against the opposite sex. I knew the majority of women were nothing like her. However, I didn’t think I’d want to move on so quickly, or find myself worrying more over Tazia telling me she was fucked up than the idea of revealing my secrets.
Composing myself, I pulled open the door.
Tazia greeted me with a magazine worthy grin that showed all of her teeth. She had piled her raven hair into a messy bun on top of her head and a few tendrils had broken free to frame her face. A white powder covered her shirt in blotches and a smudge of something resembling chocolate trailed down over her right breast to the top of her cleavage.
I gulped at the sight, my tongue swiping over my lower lip. Her dishevelled appearance reminded me of bed head…after really good sex.
I stopped the thought in its tracks. The last thing I should have been considering were fantasies of Tazia sprawled out across my bed with hot, chocolate sauce dripping over her—
And there I went, back at it again.
I blinked a few times to bring her into focus and I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling swollen. Whether it was down to the fantasies or the guilt rising over having them while still grieving I couldn’t be sure.
“Dustin?”
Quickly composing myself, I braced an arm on the doorframe above my head. “Is everything okay?”
She appeared momentarily perplexed by my question. No doubt she’d expected to find me drunk out of my mind again or in a fit of rage.
I hated she had that opinion of me because of one fucking day. If she’d moved in a day earlier or a day later I wouldn’t have been stuck with a reputation I needed to dispel.
Maybe it was for the best, though, because knowing I could ruin Tazia’s opinion of me made me want to change completely. Even when I shouldn’t have, I wanted her and I couldn’t risk scaring her off by getting pissed every night. No matter how successful the alcohol was at deadening my pain, Tazia soothed me more and I couldn’t afford to lose her.
“I baked you happy macarons,” she stated, and although I didn’t think it possible, her lips curved even more.
“What’s a happy macaron?”
“Macarons that are happy to see you.” She opened the lid on the tub she held and giggled. Like jingle bells at Christmas, the sweet sound warmed me from the inside out and melted the defences I’d built around my heart a little more.
I glanced down into the box, doing a double take. Staring back up at me were about forty orange macarons, each with an individual expression. My lips quirked.
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“What? They’re macarons and they are happy to see you. See?” She shoved the box beneath my nose. The biscuits were so close they blurred.
The box hit me in the nose, followed shortly by another giggle. “Oops.”
When she pulled it away I arched an eyebrow at her bouncing figure. “Have you been drinking?”
“I may have eaten a teensy bit too much sugar while making these.” Tazia held up her fingers to measure around a centimetre and squinted at them.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You may want to lie and go with the alcoholic option next time.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “So you don’t sound like a kid who’s just come home from trick or treating on Halloween?”
She dismissed my comment with a pfft. “I don’t sound like anything. I’m happy and I made happy macarons to make you happy. And by the look on your face, I succeeded. You’re welcome, neighbour.”
“Now who’s the dork?”
She gave me her best doe-eyed expression, and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m a cute dork who brought goodies. So, can I come in?”
My gaze lowered to her cleavage, then drifted to her hips. No doubt she didn’t mean those were the goodies she’d brought with her, yet it didn’t stop my mind from wandering. “What kind of goodies?”
Tazia lowered her head to trace the same path of my eyes. I knew the instant she realised what I meant because her complexion flushed and she averted her gaze as her mouth opened to form an O.
She raised her hand as if moving to swat me, then stopped abruptly.
Her hand hovered hesitantly in mid-air and guilt seeped into her features. All traces of humour vanished, her expression sobering to transform into pity.
Fucking pity.
It was why I hadn’t told anyone about Elora. I never wanted to be seen as a victim, and it was exactly how Tazia stared at me—like I was a hundred year old doll who had been taken out of its box for the first time and needed to be handled with white gloves and care. I knew the difference between a playful swat and a malicious attack. I wasn’t stupid and I didn’t want her to ever censor herself around me.
She had actually managed to make me forget until one single action brought it all rushing back.
“Don’t, Taz,” I pleaded.
“But—”
“I said no. I’m not talking about it, I’m not thinking about it, and I know you’re nothing like her. Don’t bloody apologise, and stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me.”
The smile she dredged up felt forced. Her eyes creased, though the whole gesture appeared strained. “Are you going to try one then? I’ve been told they’re heaven in a box. They’re bound to bring you pleasure and happiness.”
I stared at her, waiting for her to catch up and realise what she’d said again. “I wish I’d been recording our conversation so I could clip it. It could have made for interesting YouTube viewing.” I sniggered. “‘I brought goodies. They’re bound to bring you pleasure and happiness.’”
The blush on her cheeks deepened. Even the tips of her ears changed colour. With her free hand she covered her eyes with a groan. “Oh God.”
“I bet I could make you moan like that using your goodies.” I couldn’t understand where my comments came from, or why I couldn’t drag my mind from the gutter around Tazia, but she brought out something in me. I wanted to see her blush and erase the lingering tension. Sex jokes were perfect.
Who didn’t love sex jokes?
“Will you take the damned biscuits and shut your mouth?” She thrust the box at my chest.
I grinned down at her. “Why? Am I getting you all hot and bothered?”
She fixed me with a challenging stare which was da
mpened by her gulp. “Of course not, the only thing I’m craving is sugar. I can feel my high wearing off, so either let me in or I’m taking me and my goodies home.”
I stepped back from the door and swept my arm out to gesture her past me. She smelt like sugar as she breezed into my flat. It was a sweet, homely scent of baked goods and chocolate which stirred my desire to taste every inch of her skin.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked, needing to put some distance between us before I did something stupid. My voice had already deepened to a hoarse rasp.
Tazia studied the coffee table where I hadn’t managed to clear up the bottles. At her wariness, I scrubbed a hand over the day old stubble on my chin.
“I meant a soft drink, Taz. There isn’t any alcohol left in the house even if you wanted some.”
“Shocker.”
I chose to ignore the sarcasm in her deliberate dig. “Did you want a drink?”
“Milk, please.” With slow steps she made her way over to my sofa and regarded the bottles with distaste as she sat down.
“Milk? Really?”
“What else do you drink with biscuits?”
“Tea, coffee, hot chocolate.”
She scrunched up her nose at my suggestions, a few crinkles forming between her eyebrows. “Milk, please.”
With a resigned shake of my head I left her to make a coffee for myself and get her drink. Within a few minutes I returned to see she hadn’t moved, though she’d reopened the box of macarons on her lap to munch away on one.
“Haven’t you eaten enough of those?” Tazia’s shoulders rose abruptly when my voice startled her. With a deliberate movement she met my gaze and slid the second half of the macaron between her lips, a defiant glint in her eyes.
“No,” she mumbled, her hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound even further.
I chuckled and held out the glass to her. When I sat down beside her, she hummed a thank you. At least I assumed it was a thank you. For all I knew she could have been calling me an asshole considering none of the words were decipherable, her voice just a continuous sound that fluctuated in pitch.
I took a sip of my coffee then pointed at the box. “Can I have one?”
I thought I’d better check because Tazia seemed weirdly attached to the biscuits. I didn’t want her snapping the box shut on my hand. She shrugged and pushed the tub in my direction.
“Why’d you bake me macarons then?” I took a bite and couldn’t stop the guttural hum of approval from slipping out. “These are really good.”
“I know. They’re my speciality.”
“If you think I’m letting you take the rest of the box home, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“I made them so I get to decide who eats them.”
“Sure, that was true until you brought them over here. If I remember correctly you told me you’d made me happy macarons. Why, by the way?”
Tazia glanced down at her lap, her teeth dragging over her lip. She peered up at me through her thick, dark eyelashes. “Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you could use a friend. I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone after…um…after what happened at the shop.” By her nerves I presumed she was preparing herself for me to lose it again and throw her out.
Instead I simply said, “Thank you.”
She snapped her head up, her eyes holding mine in disbelief. “You’re not mad?”
“Who could be mad when you bribe them with food tasting this amazing?” I grinned and reached for another macaron. This one had a face with a tongue sticking out on it.
“Does this mean you’re ready to talk about what happened?”
My hand froze halfway between the box and my mouth, all of the blood pouring down to my feet like a rainstick as shots of trepidation seized my muscles. I struggled to catch up with the thoughts running away from me as I weighed my options.
Tazia had seen Elora’s actions; it wouldn’t be anything new if I told her. She could already judge me on what she’d seen. Adding to the list of cruelties bestowed upon me by Elora wouldn’t make much difference. I’d already seen the pity she felt after all. Regardless, a small section of pride didn’t want me detailing my life to a virtual stranger. It was why I’d cut Raine and Teo off. People would view me differently and I would become a victim again.
I didn’t want people to whisper behind my back or check up on me. All I wanted—no desired—was to move on. I needed to get over everything and leave it in the past if I had any hope of succeeding. And for some reason, Tazia helped me. I doubted it was intentional on her part, though I reasoned she deserved the truth if I planned to use her in secret.
I leaned back against the sofa and puffed out my cheeks. I kneaded the back of my neck and exhaled heavily. “What do you want to know?”
Silence lingered for nearly a minute. Tazia appeared deep in thought, her expression impassive before finally settling on a mix of confusion and resentment. “Were you really engaged to that…um what’s a nice way of putting this? Bitch?”
Her question stumped me. I’d been preparing myself to conjure answers for the reasons behind the violence. Tazia didn’t seem like a person to dodge the major issues and I thought she would remember that most from the day. Unless she wanted to ease me in gently.
“No. I’ve never been engaged to her, and I never will be.”
Tazia nodded. She reminded me of a doctor waiting to diagnose a problem. “Why did Elora say she was then?”
“Because she’s a psychotic, abusive, and manipulative woman.” I paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “Listen, my relationship with Elora wasn’t healthy. What you saw today had nothing on the levels she’s reached in the past.”
I screwed my eyes shut to block out Tazia’s shock, but all it did was fill my mind with memories.
* * *
I walked in through the front door to Elora’s parents’ house. They knew me well enough that I could forgo knocking, so I dumped my bag by the shoes scattered around the hallway, kicked mine off too, and headed deeper into the house.
“Baby, I’m back,” I called out.
“You’re late,” Elora’s voice came over the back of the sofa.
Rounding the corner of the chair, I took in her sleek body sprawled out. She had her feet kicked up and her body slumped as low as possible. Resting on her stomach was her mobile.
“Our flight was delayed,” I explained apologetically. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“No, Dustin. I didn’t get your stupid fucking text. You can check my phone if you want.”
I perched on the corner of the coffee table in front of her with a sigh. “I don’t need to check your phone, Lor.”
“Well maybe I need to check yours, because I got no text. What were you really doing, Dustin?” Her eyes narrowed and her lips formed a tight line. Hauling herself up, she dropped her feet to the floor.
I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Really? We’re back to this old story again? I’m not cheating on you, Lor. I’ve been working the whole weekend.”
“Surrounded by gorgeous women twenty-four seven.”
“Shit. How many times do I have to say it? I’m. Not. Cheating. My plane got delayed because of an issue they found during checks.”
“Then why didn’t you text me?”
“I did. I can’t help it if you didn’t receive the message.”
She reached for her mobile. I didn’t have time to process what she was doing. Elora drew her arm back and hurled it at me with all the force she could summon. “You didn’t! Stop fucking lying to me,” she screeched.
Even with my racing speed reactions I wasn’t quick enough to intercept the phone. It hit my collarbone, dangerously close to my throat.
* * *
“Why.” Punch. “Don’t you.” Hit. “Love.” Smack, punch. “Me?”
Elora pounded on my chest around her sobs. No matter how many times I restrained her, she always managed t
o weasel out of my hold since I didn’t want to risk breaking her wrists. Despite all of the marks and bruises she’d left on me, I never wanted to be responsible for a single hair on her head falling out, let alone anything worse.
“Why, Dustin?” she cried and I dodged the fist she threw at my jaw.
I caught her hand and knocked it to one side. I’d just ended our relationship after four months. She’d changed dramatically from the woman I met, and this reaction only proved it. “How can I love you when you treat me like this?”
Focused more on her hands, I didn’t see the kick coming in time to move. It connected with my shin, causing me to drop my guard from my face.
Elora launched herself at me. “You bastard!”
Rising in time, I caught her. Using her momentum, I spun so she was the one backed against the wall. Pinning her arms against her side, I pressed her into the plaster. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, only disable.
“Calm the fuck down.”
* * *
“Tell me what’s going on. Is it the baby?”
She stalked over to the sofa and dropped down onto it with a huff. “There’s nothing for you to worry about anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve taken care of everything.”
Icy tendrils started to creep around my heart, smothering it in paralysing fear as her words sank in. “What have you done, Elora?”
She waved a hand at me dismissively. “You can go now. I’m no longer your concern.”
I straightened my lips into a tight, thin line and my nostrils flared. “What about the baby? That sure as hell is my concern. If you think for one second I’m allowing you to keep me from my child then—”
“There is no baby, Dustin.”
* * *
A hand on my thigh pulled me from the thoughts. The burning heat and gentle caress as Tazia ran her palm over me forced my eyes open. My blood pumped so furiously my breathing became ragged. A sheen of sweat broke out across my forehead.
