‘And I know I should be thankful to him for covering for me.’ Dec clearly wrestled with himself for a moment before he said, ‘But he was so holier-than-thou about it! And I’ve been trying to respect and grace my way through it, but I can’t stand his hypocrisy considering that he–’
‘Don’t–’ I interrupted him, before realising I’d promised Theo I wouldn’t talk about his business, even to refute the lies people told. ‘Don’t assume everything you hear is true.’
For a moment Dec looked like he was going to protest, but then he nodded. ‘Okay, that’s fair,’ he said. ‘God knows I’ve spent weeks trying to convince people they’ve got it wrong about you, me and him.’
There followed several seconds of silence. I took the time to nibble on the rest of my toast and consider how different Dec and Theo were and so how inevitable it was that they wouldn’t get along.
‘Hey.’ Eventually Dec nudged my knee with his and, when I looked over at him, it was to see that he was wearing his most earnest expression. ‘I know I keep saying it, but I am sorry. For everything.’
‘I know.’ I dropped my crust onto the plate and made a face. ‘But it’d be kind of great if, instead of keeping saying sorry, you could stop doing things you have to apologise for.’
‘That’s the plan. And I get that, in some ways, you know McKillop better than I do, but I have worked with him for a couple of years and . . . I just think you should be careful with him, yeah?’
I started to protest, but he knew what I was going to say and talked over me. ‘I get that you said it’s casual between you two, but, come on, we both know you’re not that kind of person. You get emotionally attached to your cakes, let alone someone you’re sleeping with. But, this guy, he’s uncompromising; if he’s told you he’s not going to make room for you in his life, he’s not going to. And I know you think that the gossip-mongers are out to get him, or whatever, but there’ve been rumours that he’s going to–’
He broke off as the door opened and Zoë entered, Dec’s old overnight bag swinging on her arm.
‘You guys okay?’ she asked, halting on the threshold as she saw the tense way the two of us were sitting on the couch.
‘Yes,’ I said firmly, shelving Dec’s warning to have a think about later and deciding we’d all had quite enough serious heart-to-hearts for one day. ‘We’re okay. We’re friends. All three of us.’
I saw them exchange faintly amused looks and then Zoë suggested, ‘Or else?’
‘Yes, or else.’
She opened her mouth again but Dec got in first, getting to his feet and saying, ‘Yeah, yeah, but I’m on probation, I know.’ Crossing the room, he took the bag from her and then, quick as a flash, dropped a kiss on her cheek. ‘Thanks for the clothes,’ he said as she stared at him, clearly astounded by his gall. ‘And everything else.’
Her eyes narrowed and she jabbed a finger into his chest. ‘Probation,’ she repeated. ‘Also, you’re going to take Gio and me out to tea next week. Somewhere expensive. Your treat.’
‘Can’t wait.’
As he headed to the bathroom to change, I was pleased to see that there was a glimmer of his old swagger back in his step.
The three of us spent the rest of the day together, talking more frankly with each other than we had in years. True to my word the previous evening, I did make a massive batch of madeleines, and we munched our way through them as we sat on the couch cushions and pillows that we’d pulled onto the floor like kids at a sleepover.
The death of Dec’s dad thrummed like a constant bassline in the background. Occasionally it rose to a crescendo, such as when Dec spent an emotional hour on the phone to his mother or when, midway through a banal conversation about whether or not he was planning to extend his lease for another year, Dec suddenly started to weep.
We weathered these patches best we could, plying him with a combination of Zoë’s acerbic truths and my more sympathetic platitudes. Dec had a long way to go and a lot of things to sort out, but, beneath the grief and the anger and everything else that went with losing someone he loved and hated in equal measure, there was the sense of things having been reset. It was like that vague tickle of optimism at the back your mind when you woke up on the first of January and realised that before you was the opportunity to start things off right.
And, if nothing else, the three of us were back together again and I’d been freed from reading into every little thing Dec said or did and could just take him as he came, warts and all. It was incredibly liberating.
Dec had promised his mum he’d spend the night back in Jarli with her and, as the sun set and the street lights flickered on outside, we all knew it was time to fly the comforting us-against-the-world nest we’d made for ourselves.
I embraced Dec for a solid minute when he stood to leave, grabbing Zoë as she made to sneak past and forcing her to join us in a group hug. Eventually, however, they escaped my clutches and, after many assurances that we’d all keep in touch throughout the evening and that we’d be there in a flash if Dec needed anything, they left.
For a few minutes I was heartsick at the loss of them. After so many hours spent so firmly in each other’s personal space, I felt their absence like a lost limb. Once the initial pang started to fade, however, and with a leap of my pulse that sent sensation skittering down each of my nerve endings, I realised that my way to Theo was clear. Clearer than it ever had been.
I showered, oscillating between wanting to rush over to his as quickly as possible and wanting to make a bit more effort than usual to look nice. I landed somewhere in the middle, clipping back some of my hair, lashing on mascara and wearing my smartest jeans.
As I knocked on his door, I decided that, at first sight of Theo, I’d launch myself into his arms and kiss him with everything I had. It’d be bright and joyful and a million miles away from the misery and angst he’d been faced with last time he’d seen me.
As he opened the door, however, still dressed in a charcoal suit from work, his expression carefully shuttered and the skin under his eyes so dark it was clear he’d had just as little sleep as I had, all that went out the window.
My bottom lip was already trembling as I said, ‘Hey, neighbour,’ and by the time he’d opened his arms to me, I was sobbing.
*
‘It’s . . . relief,’ Giovanna gasped, for about the sixth time in a minute as he held her against him on the couch, her tears soaking through his shirt. ‘It’s just been such a . . . such a . . . horrible day. But it’s . . . it’s going to be fine . . . and I’m okay . . . I’m just pleased to s-s-see you.’
‘I’ve got you, it’s all right,’ he murmured, trying to calm her, but seeming to make her sob even harder every time he comforted her. Eventually, he resorted to shooshing noises, rocking her back and forth and letting her cry it out.
He’d been able to literally see her holding it together the previous evening. With her muscles tensed, her body had been a humming bundle of tension, every emotion on a leash; a leash he was guessing she’d held onto all day, but which had seemed to snap the moment she’d seen him.
He’d explored every centimetre of her body over the past couple of weeks, but, as she shook against him, he knew this was an entirely different type of intimacy. He ached for her, not with desire as he was used to, but with a sympathy that made his chest constrict. No-one had ever come to him for this, he realised, he’d never been anyone’s shoulder to cry on, and he desperately hoped he was giving her what she needed from him.
Whether it was down to him or not, her sobs did eventually subside and, as she lifted her tear-stained face to his, he saw that she was still his Giovanna.
‘Honestly,’ she said, her voice muffled from her blocked nose, ‘don’t let that complete emotional breakdown fool you, I’m actually fine.’
‘Yes, that’s exactly how I choose to express myself when I’m feeling fine,’ he said gently, blotting her cheeks with his shirt sleeves.
He was rewarded with a b
ubbly little laugh and then she leant her head against his shoulder and murmured, ‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’
‘Thanks and sorry,’ they said together.
He could tell that their synchronisation pleased her, but something in the pit of his stomach was beginning to writhe unpleasantly.
He’d assumed that, with the thirty days being up, and O’Connor so clearly in need of her, Giovanna would return to her old fold. He’d been sure that the knock upon his door had been her coming to say not ‘thanks and sorry’, but ‘thanks and goodbye’.
He’d accepted the job Harry Anderson had been offering him that afternoon, ending weeks of negotiation despite Ari’s dire warnings. He wouldn’t have said that he’d finally signed the contract because he was sure things between him and Giovanna were over, but he couldn’t fool himself that it hadn’t been one of the deciding factors.
‘So you’re all right?’ he asked, telling himself that now wasn’t the time to think about the move, that he still had a couple of weeks before he left in which to explain it all to her.
‘I am,’ she said firmly. ‘I mean, I’m sad for Dec and I get that there’s going to be a lot more to come for him in grieving and moving on, but . . .’ She sniffed, some of the redness in her cheeks already beginning to fade. ‘But things are finally good between us, so I hope that’ll help.’
‘Good between you as in . . .?’
She lifted her head and gave her shoulders a proud little wiggle. ‘Good as in, I’m pleased to announce that the thirty-day break was a success and I am officially over Dec.’
He stared at her.
‘Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting applause,’ she said with a small smile, ‘but you could look a bit happier for me.’
‘Right,’ he said, unimpressed when his voice came out unsteady. ‘Good for you.’
‘And good for Dec, too. Win–win!’
He couldn’t see how this was good for O’Connor. He’d heard what he’d said last night about loving Giovanna, but not wanting to have sex with her, but it still didn’t make much sense to him. Giovanna had wanted to be with O’Connor and he hadn’t wanted to be with her? It seemed unbelievable, but the end result was at least the right one, because Giovanna deserved to be with someone a lot better than Declan bloody O’Connor.
She seemed to expect some response from him and, aware that she was unlikely to appreciate any of the ‘O’Connor was never worthy of you, anyway’ rhetoric, he said simply, ‘I’m pleased you’re pleased.’
She grinned and it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen her pink lips widen to reveal her pearly teeth like that, it still made something low inside him tremble.
As if to save himself from the grin that made him feel so unhinged, he rested his thumb under her chin and tilted her mouth to his. She kissed him enthusiastically, greedily, and he matched her every step of the way, gliding his tongue against hers and burying his fingers into her curls.
Giovanna wriggled into a more comfortable position atop him, her hands roaming from his jaw to his shoulders to his chest and back up again as if she were mapping him. He liked that idea, and liked it even more when she decided it’d be easier to trace him if his clothing wasn’t in the way and began unbuttoning his shirt.
For someone who said sorry to him so often, she was unapologetic in her need for him, ridding him of the fabric that’d clung to his torso and then pulling her mouth from his to press a hot kiss right in the centre of his sternum. Bucking beneath her, he slid his hands under her T-shirt and ran his thumbs lightly over her breasts, teasing her nipples through her bra until he felt her moan against his chest.
In the next second her top had joined his on the floor and they instinctively leant in, seeking the warm of each other’s skin and returning to a messy, nose-clashing kiss with all the finesse of a couple of teenagers. Except, even as a teenager, he’d never felt as out of control as this. Giovanna made him feel as though, no matter how close they pressed or how long he kissed her, he’d never be able to get quite enough of her.
‘Oh, god, I love you.’
For a moment, her mumbled words didn’t register. When they did, he felt all the breath whoosh out of his lungs as if she’d sucker-punched him. His whole body went rigid with surprise and his thoughts began to scramble for an explanation. She couldn’t have meant . . . it was an expression, or an exaggeration, she didn’t mean . . .
Guilt replaced desire, resonating through him like the reverberations of a gong, and he felt such a sudden surge of self-loathing that all he wanted to do was climb out of his own skin and leave it behind. Giovanna tethered him, though, wrapped around him, her scent drawn deep into his lungs, his fingers still clutching her even as he knew he should let her go.
And then, in the midst of the panic and the self-loathing, the conflicted craving to pull her close and push her away, someone knocked on the door.
18
It was a lot to deal with all at once. I was topless, aroused, embarrassed, confused – oh, and there was someone at the door. Theo was still as a statue beneath me, his expression firmly locked on surprised horror, a mirror, I was sure, of mine.
A year or so ago I’d been subjected to hearing Maya talk at length about when she planned to use the ‘L’ word with her boyfriend. It’d been a stealth operation months in the making during which she’d considered his every possible response. Plus, and this was critical, she’d decided she wasn’t going to say it until she was absolutely certain that it was something he was feeling. At the time, it’d seemed to me to be a whole lot of energy spent on something that should surely have been a more natural, spontaneous affair.
However, having just blurted an ‘I love you’ out into the world, natural and spontaneous suddenly seemed to leave a lot to be desired.
I mean, I wasn’t even sure I’d meant it. Identifying my emotions was hardly a skill of mine; I’d thought I was in love with Dec up until very recently and look how that had turned out!
There was another knock at the door and, without even seeming to realise what he was doing, Theo wordlessly passed me my T-shirt, gently lifted me off him, and rose to his feet.
He wasn’t . . . he surely wasn’t going to answer the door? Now?
As he walked stiffly across the room, I realised he was and quickly tugged my top over my head. Just as I had when Lena had come round a few weeks ago, I scrunched myself into the corner of the couch as I waited to see who had come calling. It was less about giving Theo privacy this time, however, and more about wanting to roll myself into a defensive ball after my stupid, stupid, declaration.
Theo, similarly, had his shoulders hunched tightly and I wondered how the person who’d come a-visiting would react to being presented with such a forbidding, yet deliciously shirtless, countenance.
As it turned out, however, the person in question barely spared Theo a glance as she swept into his flat announcing, ‘We need to talk.’
Oh, dear god. Vanessa. She was dressed in a tight black suit that nipped her in at the waist and made her legs look unfeasibly long, and her aura of authority was so absolute I almost expected Theo to salute.
He didn’t, of course, but there was something distinctly battle ready about him as he faced her.
‘Vanessa.’ He said her name in the same breath as a resigned sigh, almost as if he’d been expecting her. ‘Now’s not really the time.’
‘Except it is, because–’ She broke off and, having seen me out of the corner of her eye, suddenly spun to face me. ‘Gio!’
I stared back at her numbly, wondering as I did so if there was anyone else in the world I would’ve less wanted to see in that moment. No-one sprang to mind.
‘You know each other?’
I shifted my gaze to Theo as he spoke, feeling another brick of anxiety plonking itself atop my precarious Jenga tower of emotions. Where before it’d seemed like there’d been no reason, nor opportunity, to bring up the few times I’d talked with his ex, I now saw that there’d be
en very good reason and that I’d had nothing but opportunity.
Vanessa cast me a calculating look, as if weighing up whether to defend or sacrifice me for her own ends, and then made a dismissive sort of movement with one delicate hand. ‘Not really. We met at Grandpa Allsopp’s party and then I ran into her again and we had lunch a few days after that.’
She sounded so blithe, so reasonable, that even I almost believed her. Theo, however, was unconvinced and let out a small, humourless laugh.
‘Ran into?’ he asked, his words heavy with sarcasm. ‘Really? A coincidence, was it?’
I felt chastised by his disbelief, and disappointed in myself for not seeing through Vanessa sooner. She, however, was unapologetic.
‘Sometimes you have to orchestrate coincidence. And don’t look at me like that.’ She rolled her eyes at him. ‘I just wanted to know whether Gio was the reason you’d moved O’Connor to another team. Once I figured out she wasn’t, I didn’t contact her again until last night.’
‘Last night?’ Theo’s eyes slid from his beautiful ex to me, the planes of his face pulled taut with tension.
I sat up straighter, my hands clasped tightly in my lap as I said, ‘Vanessa left a voicemail telling me about the police coming to AHC to talk with Dec about his dad.’
‘Yes, and I’m looking forward to seeing how you misconstrue that,’ she said.
But Theo and I ignored her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that we’d met,’ I gabbled, desperate to make him stop looking at me as if we were strangers, ‘but we honestly haven’t had anything to do with each other since . . .’ I didn’t finish the sentence. We both knew I meant since I’d found out about Vanessa’s part in the release of the emails that’d damaged both his career and his sense of self-worth. Horrified to find myself presented as yet another person who’d played games behind his back, I hurried to add, ‘I should’ve told you, but I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. And I didn’t tell her anything. How could I? I had nothing to tell.’
Cake at Midnight Page 29
