by Jody Klaire
“I did. She ran off with an underwear model.” She thwacked Zoë across the knuckle.
Zoë thwacked her back. “I ran off with an underwear model because I was living with you, sleeping with you, because we taught Susannah to walk together, taught her to talk, and I wasn’t even allowed to use my own front door.”
“Yes. I’m a bitch. You knew that when we met.” She rubbed out the arrow.
“You were a sweet kid who mothered me then cried when the other girls insulted you.” Zoë drew another arrow. “You spent one hot night with me and slept with a football player to prove you were straight.”
She rubbed out the arrow. “I am aware I’m a bitch.”
“Just a bitch?” Zoë thwacked her across the nose. “You freaked out because you felt something, then crawled back to me pregnant. I was there. I saw her being born.”
“I didn’t crawl anywhere.” She’d expected Zoë to hate her. Why hadn’t she? Why had she put up with so much?
“I agreed to be quiet because it was different then: our careers needed it, Susannah was the main concern, and because I stupidly thought I could live that way.” Zoë kissed her on the lips. “Fourteen years and you told me if I didn’t like it, I could leave.”
“Again, I’m a big bitch.” And she wanted to say she was a scared one, one who’d regretted saying it ever since Zoë had left and never got the chance to tell her otherwise; instead, she drew boxers on the silhouette. “What do you want?”
“To know you give a shit.” Zoë pulled her around by the shoulders. “You smiled, supported, and didn’t even look bothered that I got married.”
For Susannah. “You have every right to be happy.” She turned back to the sketch.
“Where are you?” Zoë yanked her back around. “Where’s the babe I snuck into bed with, who begged me to touch her, who begged me to do it again?”
She glanced at the door. “Keep it down.”
“If you don’t show me, I swear I’ll go out there and holler it.” Zoë narrowed her eyes. Hurt flickered across the gentle brown irises. She was sick of seeing that pain. It had been why she didn’t run after her. She was a bitch, but she loved Zoë.
“I sing with a hairbrush in my underwear, happy?” She pursed her lips. Why had she come out with that? How did that help?
Zoë rolled her eyes. “I know. I used to do it with you.” She glanced at the door, her eyes seemed to fill with pain. Was she going to leave again? No, she couldn’t do without her being around anymore. Not as a lover, but her presence, her friendship, her care.
“I miss you so much,” she whispered, hearing the crack in her voice. Hopefully anyone near enough to the door was listening to headphones or learning to play the drums. “I miss picking up the phone to call you. I do it…then remember I can’t call in the middle of the night anymore. Your wife wouldn’t like it.”
“She knows. I didn’t tell her, but she goes crazy at the mention of you.” Zoë scrunched up her mouth. “She went nuts at the picture of us on Valentine’s Day.”
“I was defending you.” She folded her arms. That was no reason to have a hissy fit.
“Yes, but I kissed you.” Zoë held her gaze like she was dense. “And you looked beyond relieved.”
Of course she was. It had taken every ounce of self-control to keep it at that single kiss. She couldn’t have cared if the manager threw them out or not. “It doesn’t matter how I felt. You’re married.” She turned back to the sketch.
“And you don’t sound happy about it.” Zoë ducked her head down to meet Darcy’s gaze.
“I hate her. I hate you for marrying her, and I hate that it’s permanent. Happy?” She cleared her throat. They hadn’t been alone, not since Zoë walked out. Just felt inappropriate. Zoë wasn’t hers to hold anymore.
“Why?” Zoë leaned in. Oh, she’d forget all about her wife in an instant and they both knew it. If she told herself that, it made her feel better anyway. “Why wouldn’t you just be proud of me, not ashamed?”
“She gives you what I could never give you. You’re happy with her.” She was not ever going to be that woman. Never. “I won’t ever not feel…not want…” She flicked her gaze away. “She’s better for you.”
“Yes, she is.” Zoë whispered it, but it rang out through the room like she’d bellowed. Hollow-sounding, hurt filled. “I love you too.” Full of pain, of longing. “That’s not going anywhere.” She smiled and stroked her cheek. “I miss Susannah.”
“She misses you too.” She went back to her drawing and drew a lacy bra on Kate’s figure. Ooh, nice shape. That would work.
“Do you have any idea how much it hurts that she doesn’t know she’s my kid too?” Zoë stilled her hand. “She is mine too. You promised me.”
“Yes, I meant it. Legally, emotionally, she’s our daughter.” She drew a slash-necked top over the bra. “You left, and it broke her heart even more than mine. She cried more than I did.”
Zoë shuddered out her breath. “You cried?”
“Are you devoid of all sense?” She glared at Zoë. How could she think she wouldn’t cry? She breathed like her, smiled like her. How could she not know how devastating leaving them had been? “The woman I loved ran off and married some twig within three months…three.” She smacked Zoë across the nose with her pencil. “And you were happy until you started working with her a few months before you ran out on your family.”
“I never cheated on you.” Zoë thwacked her back.
“Yes, you are… You’ll always be.” She thwacked her back harder.
“If that’s the case, you are shamelessly flirting with a security guard.” Zoë poked her in the shoulder. “And publicly.”
“It’s not my fault she’s the most gorgeous women I’ve ever set eyes on.” She poked Zoë right back.
Zoë scowled.
Yes, even more attractive than her.
“Is that it? Because I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” Zoë kissed her on the cheek.
“I haven’t, that’s why. She’s irritatingly funny.” She kissed Zoë back.
“She is not going to put up with your shit.” Zoë smiled, her eyes misting.
“She’s not available.” She shrugged. Why was she even thinking about it? “She is attracted to gay men.”
Zoë howled with laughter.
“She is.” She folded her arms. “She was in love with a man called Bennie.”
“In that case, she’s as crazy as you.” Zoë drew a heart next to the sketch of Kate. “Which means you’re in a load of trouble.”
She rubbed out the heart. Not having that. “I know. Why do you think I called you?”
“I don’t know.” Zoë smirked. “To torture me with the fact you’re moving on?”
“That would only make us even.” She sighed and threw her pencil down. “I’ve only ever been in love with you. I don’t know what I’m doing.” She scowled. “It’s the least you could do for leaving me and our child.”
Zoë sucked in a breath. “Yes, guilt-trip me even more. That feels real good.”
“You deserve it, but it’s up to you to make it up to her.” She shrugged. “So, are you going to stop me making a fool of myself on TV or not?”
“No. That chick is going to spring you from your shell.” Zoë grinned. “And I want to see you free, so I’ll hold your hand the whole way.” She pulled her in and planted a kiss on her lips, then yanked her into a hug. “Thank you for letting me back in. I miss you both.”
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed back.
“Mum?” Susannah mumbled from the doorway.
Darcy groaned. Perfect timing.
Chapter 16
Kate yawned and wandered to the kitchen. She’d left Susannah and Marge to it and spent hours trying to video-call Mikey and Mum. Mum was not good with anything technological, and Mikey had ne
eded to explain, slowly. So funny. When they did talk, Mum and Mikey were so excited that Susannah and Marge thought it would be fun to bring them up on weekends to watch filming. It was a relief. As nice as it was being in an apartment with Darcy and company. It wasn’t like she knew them…or was allowed to.
“You’re not a morning person, I take it?” Darcy’s head stayed down as she stood at the counter, munching something in a bowl—brown sticks? Yummy.
“Not really.” She stretched out her back. “Is there somewhere I can pick up breakfast?”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I think I can afford to feed you.”
Patronising. How nice.
“Maybe I don’t need you to feed me,” she snapped. Okay, so she was grumpy first thing.
Darcy smiled. “Not what I meant.”
“I know.” She folded her arms. Didn’t matter; she’d pick up something on the way. “You still made it sound snobby.”
“Unlike you, I grew up on one of the most crime-riddled council estates in the UK,” Darcy said, crunching away. “Chip on your shoulder better?”
“I do not have a chip,” she growled. Why was Darcy so irritating? “I grew up in one of the richest areas in Wales. I went to public school and never worried about money.”
Darcy smiled around her spoon. “I know.”
“So then I don’t have a chip, and I should buy you breakfast.” She nodded. Yeah, take that, McGregor.
“I have my own, thank you.” She slid a box of cereal at her. “Help yourself.”
How did that feel like Darcy had won a battle? She yanked the packet over. “Oh, I can’t have these, sorry.”
“Yes, you can. Susannah is a celiac too.” She tapped the packet. “Gluten-free cornflakes.”
“She is?” Kate poured a bowl. She’d never tried rice milk before, but…ah well. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
Darcy flicked a page over. Looked like a clothes catalogue. “Thousands of people apply every week for me to dress them.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t.” She tucked into her bowl, then winced. Gross. Maybe just needed sugar…
Darcy slid a bowl of it over, smile on her glossy lips. “You signed the form.”
“I didn’t. But if you take me to court, I’ll swear I did.” She spooned a load of sugar on. Yes, lots of sugar.
“Ah, mothers know best.” Darcy flicked her elegant eyebrow. The light bathed her face. She looked so gorgeous…achingly gorgeous. How? “You’re staring.”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I have a thing for…” Her—No, don’t say that. “Lighting.”
Darcy finished her bowl of twigs—or whatever they were—and picked up a glass of orange juice. “That your story?”
Kate cocked her head. Was that the hint of a smile? “Yes. Light is diffused by whatever your glass windows are made of. It balances it out and softens your features.” Like they needed a soft focus; Darcy looked untouchable. Like a moving picture or sculpture that she didn’t dare get too close to.
Darcy leaned back against the counter and sipped on her orange juice. “Photography?”
“No, not really.” How did she explain? “Dad makes…or used to…lights for studios and public places.” She forced down another mouthful of the disgusting milk. “I used to like hearing him talk about it.”
“Why are you a security guard?” Darcy studied her. The aqua eyes popped with colour against the high-key white background. If only she could pull a camera. What a shot.
“I like pencils.” She chomped more cardboard flakes and milk that wasn’t close to milk.
Darcy laughed. There it was. Full, warm, breathy, sexy laugh. “You don’t like rice milk though, do you?”
She shook her head. “This has to be the foulest breakfast I’ve ever had.”
Darcy smiled around her orange juice. “It stops you getting cramps, so it’s worth it, yes?”
“That what you tell Susannah?” She wagged her spoon, which bounced light onto the ceiling. “Because I’m calling in social services.”
Darcy laughed again, eyes pulsing with that shocked, sexy laugh. “Took her a while to like it.” She smiled a maternal smile, then it turned to sensual until the light played on her lips. “Are you going to be a good patient today?”
“No.” She downed the dregs of her bowl. Still gross. “Are you going to be any less…” What word wouldn’t get her slapped?
“Of a bitch?” Darcy sipped at her orange juice, just studying her like she might eat her.
“You said it…but yeah.” She cocked her head. “What is it with that, anyway?”
“I like being one?” Darcy finished her glass and poured one for her. “Drink.”
“Why? You’re…” She held up her hand. “Actually…sometimes…” It was sexy—correction: beyond flipping sexy.
Darcy raised an eyebrow like she could read her.
“Sometimes it’s alright?” Oh great. Now she sounded like Dad. He was never the master of overstatement.
Darcy slid the glass to her. “Just alright, Kate?”
Ooh, challenging tone that dipped into husky and did all kinds of things to her stomach until she had to rub it. She caught the glass, and Darcy’s hand. “Why, are you hoping to hear something else, Darcy?”
Was she using the same tone? The mood seemed to switch. Darcy’s eyes deepened and her lips twitched. “Now, what makes you think such a thing?”
“Don’t know.” She trailed her finger over Darcy’s, over the dazzling diamond—or whatever it was—ring. “Feels like you do.”
Darcy threaded long, elegant fingers through hers. “And how do you know what I feel?” Guarded tone, edgy, confused?
Yes, how would she know? Darcy was a woman who millions thought they knew, a woman who had some kind of attraction to other women, yes, but seemed to date a lot of men too. Darcy was a woman she could never know. What would Darcy McGregor want with a normal person like her? A real person. A person who put out the recycling in her pyjamas?
She pulled her hand free. “I’ll read your tweet on it.”
Darcy grabbed her hand, squeezed it, then let it go. “And there is the chip.”
She frowned. “Is this some kind of shrink crap?” She folded her arms. “Like, I’m insecure so I wear rugby shirts?”
“That’s not my take on it.” Darcy placed the dishes in the sink. “Rugby shirts are tribalism, just like any team shirt.”
“And you dislike them?” Why had Darcy’s tone been so noncommittal?
“I have no opinion either way.” Darcy went back to her catalogue.
“Why? Don’t you tell women they look like bin bags because they wear a tidy coat to walk the dog?” She knocked back the orange juice, then winced at the bitterness and the bits. Yuck.
“Professionally, yes.” Darcy smiled and took the glass. “Let me guess, you don’t like orange juice either?”
“Only if it doesn’t have bits.” She shuddered, then winced. “You don’t think it personally?”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “If you want to walk the dog looking like a sack of coal, enjoy.” She washed up the glass. “Just don’t expect a man to appreciate you looking like it.”
She laughed. “Why—?”
“You did not finish before me,” Susannah shot as she waltzed in, Zoë in tow.
“Yeah, I did.” Zoë wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You cannot deny that I inhale donuts.”
Darcy tutted. “I’ll send you the bill for the doctor.”
Zoë poked out her tongue, kissed Darcy on the cheek, and lifted the box. “Hers were gluten-free, honey.” She placed a second box on the counter. “Mine is full of the stuff. So much tastier.”
Susannah nodded. “It is.” She sighed at the milk. “Rice milk is so gross.”
Kate smiled. “Definitely.”
Darcy shook her head at Zoë and tapped her on the cheek. “Healthy.”
“Eh.” Zoë kissed her cheek again and stole another gluten-filled donut. “I get enough of that at home, thanks.” She pushed the gluten-free box toward Kate. “So fattening.”
Kate took a pink-covered one.
Darcy raised her eyebrow.
“Thought you’d appreciate the girly colour.” She winked. Hopefully, Zoë wouldn’t get irritated. It was clear something was going on between them. They were so easy together. “Compromise?” She chomped into it. Now that was how to do gluten-free.
Darcy tutted, but her mouth twitched into a smile. “And you were saying you’d be difficult.”
Chapter 17
Darcy made sure that Susannah, Marge, and Zoë were between her and Kate as they drove to Oxford Street. She wasn’t sure what had happened at breakfast, but linking fingers with Kate? Stroking hands, squeezing. Flirting. She didn’t even know this woman. Yes, she’d studied her and could pick psychological assumptions about her, but Kate wasn’t gay. She wasn’t interested, so why did it feel like they were straying over lines?
Kate was someone whom she would dress and send on her way. Easy. Kate knew nothing about the spotlight.
She pulled out her phone and sent out a tweet about how to pull things together, with the help of the right underwear. #FoundationDressing.
“Mum, I have so many tweet questions, I don’t know where to start.” Susannah chewed her lip as she studied her tablet.
“Honey, just pick a selection,” Zoë said, leaning in like she used to when helping Susannah with reading or homework. Nice to see that again. She leaned back in the seat. Bittersweet. “They all have a theme. You see?”
Susannah beamed up at her like the awestruck child she’d been. She’d always been so different with Zoë. No scowling, no doll-shaving when Zoë was around… And someone was watching her. She looked over, expecting to see Marge gloat, only it was Kate and her big green eyes studying her, almost as if she wanted to send reassurance.
