“With the best will in the world, Scotland and Cornwall are at opposite ends of the country.”
“She’s genuinely making a new start. She’s promised to try and be a cool granny.”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
Maggie threw a pillow at him. “Not necessarily,” she insisted. “Mind you, she was disappointed to find out that you’re not the dad. She was pretty excited at the idea of having a celebrity in the family.”
Looking at each other from opposite sides of the bed they both rolled their eyes.
When the bed was made, Alex took a blanket from his wardrobe and went off to sleep in the living room. Alone in his very big bed Maggie lay on her stomach, turned onto her side, flipped over on her back, turned onto her other side, and started the whole cycle again. Fifteen minutes later she was no closer to falling asleep. She got up and went to find Alex, dragging the king-size duvet behind her.
“Alex?” she whispered.
He sat bolt upright.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you in pain?”
“No, no,” she assured him. “It’s nothing like that.” She was sorry that she’d worried him, and added sheepishly, “I can’t sleep.”
Her eyes adjusted to the half-dark. Sprawled on a cream-leather sofa, propped on one elbow and naked to the waist, Alex’s swoon-worthy body took her breath away. Again.
She felt like a child who’d announced that she was scared of monsters under the bed as Alex got up and arranged her duvet on the enormous sofa opposite his. “You’d better stay here with me,” he suggested.
“You did say I shouldn’t be alone tonight.” She sounded embarrassingly petulant.
She burrowed into the duvet and got comfy. Alex returned to his sofa, a safe distance away.
“Better now?”
“Yes, much.” She hushed her voice, as though she might wake someone if she spoke normally. “I’m over my meltdown.”
“You had me worried,” Alex whispered back.
“There’s no need to be concerned. I’m back on plan.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He stayed silent a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the plan? I mean you can’t go directly to the maternity ward, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds. You need to get organized.”
“I’m getting organized,” she protested, a little too testily. “I don’t have anything concrete yet, but I’ve got new work plans, and when it’s time for the baby … eeeees, I’m going home to Cornwall.”
“That’s great, Maggie, but who’s going to be there – for you?”
She rolled over, turning her back to him. “I have friends,” she said defensively, “There’s Layla, and old friends from school, and neighbors of my grandmother’s, and I told you, my mother said she’d help, and …” She stopped abruptly, suddenly hesitant. “My life’s not as random as a board game. I’ll manage.”
Too wide awake, a childhood memory floated in her mind. A few months had gone by since her mum had gone and not come home. It was Layla’s eighth birthday party. Her parents had hired a magician and he’d made a rabbit disappear. Lying in the dark with Alex so close, Maggie could still feel the sadness that had overwhelmed her when the rabbit vanished into thin air. Instead of being delighted, she’d been horrified. She’d cried and worked herself up into such a state that her grandmother had been called to collect her early. All cried-out, she’d waited by the door with her party bag and balloon, sucking in shivery, distressed breaths. Before her grandmother had arrived to take her away, the magic show had ended. The other children sat in a circle and took turns holding the white rabbit. Deceived, rejected, Maggie watched the party continue without her. So many times when she was growing up she’d ached for her mum to be there. After that day, even if it got her down, she never let it show. She’d like to think that her mum would stick to her promise. If she didn’t, she’d survive.
It wasn’t her mother’s love that she wanted now. It was Alex’s.
She couldn’t protect her heart. He had it. She’d sneered when he said she needed a man to make her heart sing. How could she look him in the face and tell him that it was him? He was the one that did that. When she thought about not being alone, she couldn’t imagine not being alone with anyone but him.
Alex lay still in the darkness, jaw clenched, holding back on making any kind of stab at articulating what was on his mind. He hoped her mum had meant it. The Maggie he knew ten years ago had a tendency to view life from the sunny side, even where her let-down of a mother was concerned. Nothing would make him angrier than to discover that her mother had been paying lip service to the notion of playing happy families. She hadn’t exactly been reliable in the past. Maggie had come through thanks to her grandmother, but she wasn’t there now. She needed someone she could count on.
A smile broke onto his face listening to her steady breathing that only just stopped short of qualifying as a snore. She was the only woman he’d risk his heart for, but she’d been crystal- clear. Her heart wasn’t up for grabs. Her loving for one night meant more to him than he meant to her. He’d accepted that. She’d armor-plated herself against hurt. She wanted to be a single parent, and he respected her decision, although for days he’d been stamping down on the temptation to ask her if she’d change her mind. It was fortunate that he had Hamlet to absorb him, because when he wasn’t throwing himself into the role, she was all he could think about. The way his heart sat in his mouth at the hospital, staring at the two heartbeats on the screen, he’d almost convinced himself that he could be a dad to Maggie’s children, and then she’d gone into free-fall, freaking out about her babies’ genes, and wretched fear had kicked in, opening up old wounds, reminding him of his family’s chaos, his mother’s irreparable unhappiness.
After he’d left his mother, his father had become emotionally cold. He couldn’t be in a relationship with Maggie because if it didn’t work out, he’d be ruining her carefully thought-out plan. He couldn’t risk hurting her, repeating the past, walking away from his family. With Maggie, he’d stopped caring that he didn’t know where half his DNA came from. Biological or not, Drake was the man he called his father, and he’d abandoned his mother, played a heartless game of reject-you-reject-you-not with him and Nick, and set up expectations where the bar was so high that neither of them could ever measure up.
The feelings he had for Maggie were so strong they hurt. He couldn’t do anything about that. He’d left Maggie behind once before. He owed it to her not to take a chance on failing. Second time around, the best thing he could do was guarantee to be there for her if the going got tough. He’d always care about her, he wanted to support her, but beyond that anything more would be an almighty mistake.
Chapter Nineteen
On the day of Alex’s first night Maggie decided it was time for a re-style.
She called a snazzy West End hair salon. Hooray. One of the stylists had a cancellation. She booked herself in and went straight over. She had a couple of inches cut off her hair, plus a sweepy fringe and highlights.
It had been ages since she’d done a shop-till-you-drop session for herself. She knew exactly what she wanted. Color. Out with the grey and black. In with the colors of the season. First off she bought herself a fab pair of boots in dark-green suede. With those dreamy little numbers in a carrier bag, the rest had been a piece of cake. Alex’s first night was an excellent excuse to splash out. No more blending into the background. She spent her life putting the glamor and color into other people’s wardrobes. It was high time for some va-va-voom of her own. She’d been using monochrome as her personal style-mask. Alex had given her the confidence to be happy with herself again, to trust her instincts. From now on she planned to dress how she liked, express her personality through color, be her authentic self, with no need to hide behind black, white and grey every day. After her shopping spree Maggie headed home to her tiny apartment in Battersea. She had so much to think about and plan for. Just for tonight, she d
ecided to put it all on hold.
Tonight would be everything Alex had dreamt of. Nick and he had got over their bust-up over Mercy of the Vampires ending. He’d stopped wanting to disown Jago, accepted that if he hadn’t spent the last ten years playing the character, he’d never in a month of Sundays have landed this theater role.
It had been over a week since the night she’d spent at his apartment, and her best efforts had gone into sorting out her feelings about him. He’d been busy. He’d sent texts and a couple of heart-stoppingly funny photos. There’d been a technical run and a dress rehearsal. He’d be in his element – apart from the promo. Her heart flipped. Her head was struggling with the fact that she was in the “friend” zone, and her emotions were in the danger zone.
When the time came to get ready, she had a bad case of butterflies. She lined up a row of nail-varnish bottles. What would be the perfect color? She couldn’t decide on one, so she chose five that coordinated with the shades in her not-like-any-animal-known-to-zoologists pink and green leopard-ish-print skirt. She carefully painted each fingernail, a different color on each one matched to its counterpart on the other hand.
Alex would be on a high after the show. They’d probably both say polite things about not losing touch. She doubted that friends could work. It had been a slippery slope. Once she’d allowed Alex to steal like warm sunshine through the chinks in her emotional mask there’d been no way of going back. Re-finding her friend, finishing their long-overdue fling and going back to square one of their friendship had turned out to be more difficult than she’d thought.
She’d enjoyed the ride. But the longer she stuck around the more likely she was to end up saying something she’d regret. Like I love you. The worst thing she could possibly do would be to ask for something she couldn’t have. Something he wasn’t able to give her. He would never love her back.
She slicked on a layer of confidence-boosting lip gloss, gave herself a squirt of her new zingy perfume, grabbed her handbag and the keys to her apartment and set off for the theater. She needed to lose Alex again. And she planned to tell him soon. Would the Hamlet after-party be too soon? He’d probably be relieved. He’d be off the hook. No more scares and no more talking her down from the ceiling. Not that she’d be freaking out again. She’d got her act together.
Alex was fantastic as Hamlet. After the performance she almost got cold feet. She was tempted to slink off home and send him a polite excuse and congrats by text. He was a magnet. She couldn’t just skulk away and de-friend him. She needed to be strong and tell him face to face.
The first-night party was a far cry from the New York movie premiere and Cassandra’s gala dinner. It was a chilled-out do in the understated theater bar. Most people hadn’t even bothered to dress up, least of all the actors, and the director was wearing a moth-eaten old sweater and faded jeans with rips that definitely hadn’t been put there by a designer.
Maggie strutted in to the after-party wearing her brand-new green-suede boots, circulated, made small talk with complete strangers, and held her head high until Nick spotted her.
“Maggie. Looking good, darling.” They air-kissed. “You’ve had something done. Did you get a boob job?”
“I changed my hair.” She shrugged. “Highlights.”
“You’re different, though.” He put a hand to his chin and gave her his undivided consideration. “I know what it is. You got color.”
“I’m not Monochrome Magenta anymore.”
“Monochrome Magenta? Really?” He gave her a hug. “I’ve no idea who she is, but you were never that to me.”
Maggie smiled. “London’s so grey. I had to do something,” she joked. She was doing a good job of covering up the jittery feeling she had waiting to see Alex. “I took it upon myself to brighten the place up.”
“Go Maggie!”
Nick drained the contents of his champagne flute and plucked another from a passing tray. “What are you drinking?”
Maggie pulled a face. “Organic elderflower and melon cocktail.”
“Yum. Get you a refill?” Maggie shook her head. Nick lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You and Alex caused quite a stir in New York. What’s the story? Are you and he …?”
Maggie blushed. “We’re friends.”
“What’s with you two and this ‘friends’ thing? You’re single. He’s single. You’ve obviously still got the hots for each other. ”
Maggie couldn’t believe her ears. “Nick? Are you matchmaking?”
He laughed. “You’ve sussed me. That’s why I persuaded the people at the magazine to book you for the Boston shoot. Not that they needed persuading. They were happy to oblige.”
“What are you talking about?” She’d had masses of compliments on the photos they’d done, but she felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her. “What am I not getting?”
Nick forked a hand into his blonde hair. His brown eyes pinned her with intensity. “Alex missed his moment with you once before. I thought I’d give you guys a helping hand – a shot at another chance.” He knocked back his champagne. “You two are avoiding each other like the plague. That’s the thanks I get!”
Her heart felt too big for her chest cavity. She knew the way she got that job at the last minute was odd. “Hang on a minute. Let’s rewind this conversation. Are you telling me that I didn’t get hired for those shoots by accident? You arranged it?”
The horror in her rising tone wasn’t lost on Nick. “If I was wide of the mark, I apologize,” he said solemnly. “I promise you. It was well meant.”
Maggie shook her head and sighed. “What were you thinking?” Clearly he wouldn’t have done it if he’d had a crystal ball. “How could you? I mean, I get that you wanted to do something nice for Alex, but having me turn up like the Ghost of Christmas Past is a bit of risk compared to a basket of muffins.” Nick looked repentant. She should be furious. Quite apart from anything else, her pregnancy hadn’t been factored into his scheming. Thanks to his meddling, her heart was in a mess. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. “Your timing’s awful!” Her jokey tone masked sadness that sluiced through her veins. “I’m having twins.”
“Twins?” Nick gawped. He lowered his eyes to her belly. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Who’s having twins?” Cassandra’s interjection made Maggie jump.
“Maggie is.”
“With donor sperm, I hear. Congratulations, dear. I can’t recommend donor insemination highly enough. And twins! Look at the two dreamboats I got.” She clinked glasses with Nick and winked at Maggie.
Confusion swirled in the air and tied her tongue in a knot. Alex’s family was too much. They’d hit her with a double whammy. As if Nick’s admission that he’d plotted to throw her and Alex together wasn’t bad enough, she was struggling to decipher what their mother had just come out with.
“By the way, I’m sorry I was rude to you in New York,” Cassandra gushed. “That grandma business was quite a shock.”
“My fault, I’m afraid.” Although, strictly speaking, Nick was to blame for turning them all into press fodder, Maggie graciously accepted culpability. “Sorry.” She was still trying to get her head around Cassandra’s revelation. Was Alex donor-conceived?
“Don’t apologize. Actually, I’d gotten to quite like the idea when Alex told me he’s not the dad. Go figure.”
Nick, contrition still stamped on his face, spotted someone he wanted to speak to and darted off, leaving her stranded with Cassandra. She’d been at the party for the best part of an hour and she hadn’t even said hello to Alex yet. Desperation set in. The minute she got a chance, she’d say hi and congratulations, then she’d leave. After everything she’d just heard she was ready to put her plan to distance herself straight into action.
Cassandra unnerved Maggie. “One word of warning.” She held up a ruby-taloned index finger. “Advice, really.” Her tone softened and she tapped the nail against her glass. “Make sure y
ou tell your kids the truth. Right from the start. Don’t keep anything from them. I made that mistake. I kept my boys in the dark, used the fact that Drake wasn’t their real dad to get at him. I …” She corrected herself. “We hurt them.” There was real remorse beneath her air of superficiality. “Now they’re hung up on not knowing who they really are.”
Maggie’s heart thudded. Misery seeped through the cracks in her outwardly cheerful appearance. Alex knew exactly who he was – a no-commitment, no-strings guy.
Cassandra twiddled her champagne flute distractedly. “Wasn’t Alex a marvel? It’s like Shakespeare could have written the Hamlet role especially for him.” Maggie stifled a hysterical guffaw. She didn’t want to snort organic elderflower and melon. “He always wanted to be just like Drake, despite his genes. I think he can safely say that tonight he’s proved himself.”
Maggie was intrigued by the woman Cassandra had been – attention-seeking, broken-hearted, needy, hooked on drugs and alcohol. Her heart went out to the little boys at the center of that mess. Was that chaos what drove Alex’s determination to be the perfect son, the reliable brother? He never talked much about his dad. Now she understood why. No wonder he’d been thrown by her wanting a donor-sperm baby. He must despise her choice. She wished he hadn’t kept it from her. Apparently his mother assumed he trusted her enough to have told her. Her confidence sank, realizing that he didn’t.
Cassandra’s partner descended like a bird of prey, “Darling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He whisked her away.
Maggie looked for a place to set her glass. She found a table crammed with glassware and rejected canapés. She put it there. Right above the table was an enormous poster of Alex in Elizabethan costume, angst-ridden, and still sexy as hell. Sexier maybe. Who’d have thought he’d carry off the doublet-and-hose look so well? No doubt she’d soon be seeing his face plastered all over digital advertising screens on the escalators in the Underground, a weird memento of their New York fling.
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 21
